The values of the external relations of Hungary and Transylvania with

foreign nations direct, are of little importance. The bulk of the

traffic with them doubtless passes through the Austrian dominions,

properly so called. Thus their joint foreign traffic direct, was in--

1830, no more than 14,000,000 florins

1834, decreased to 11,511,000 ...

1837, ... 12,616,000 ...

The imports, only once, in 1836, surpassed those of 1830, within the

eight years. The foreign exports were, in

1830, to the amount of ... 9,574,800 florins.

1837, the yearly amount had increased to 11,213,400 ...

But the commercial relations of Hungary and Transylvania, with the other

provinces of the Austrian monarchy, were, on the contrary,

satisfactorily extending. The returns before us, never before published

here, it is believed, do not date further back than 1835, and exhibit

the following results:--

Florins. Florins.

1835, Imports from Austria, 79,678,051 Exports to, 46,408,290

1836, ... 96,057,019 ... 53,876,115

1837, ... 90,404,555 ... 47,878,424

1838, ... 101,396,470 ... 61,684,111

The value of manufactured cottons alone, imported from the other

Austrian provinces, amounted, in 1838, to the almost incredible sum of

sixty-four millions of florins, or say not far short of six and a half

millions sterling; of woollens, the import was nearly to the value of

eighteen millions of florins. It is difficult to conceive that such a

mass of cottons could be destined for internal consumption alone; and

therefore the suggestion naturally occurs, that a considerable portion

at least must pass only in transit to the ports for re-exportation to

the coasts of the Black Sea and the Levant; but on reference to the

exports, we find cottons entered only for 31,296 florins. The

proportions in which the different leading articles of importation and

exportation enter into the total amounts of each may be thus stated:--

Imports

Cottons for 62 per cent.

Woollens, 17 ...

Linen and hempen fabrics, 4º7 ...

Silks, 1º7

Exports

Wool for 45.6 per cent.

Grains and fruits, 19 ...

Cattle, 12 ...

Various raw products, 5º7 ...

The great bulk of this commerce with Hungary and Transylvania is carried

on with the three great provinces of the empire--Lower Austria, which

alone absorbs about two-thirds of the total; Moravia and Austrian

Silesia, one-fourth; and Gallicia and Austrian Poland, the imports from

whence represent above one-tenth, and the exports to which form

one-twentieth of the whole.

Such has been the progress of the Austrian empire even under the

unwisely strained _regime_ of prohibition and restriction. The absolute

theory men will not gain much certainly by its comparison with the free

trading elysium of Switzerland, although the most favourable for the

latter which could well be selected, inasmuch as representing a

principle carried to a prejudicial extreme.

We have not, however, done with our absolutists of the one-sided

free-trade theory yet. We must traverse Belgium with them, but at

railway speed; Belgium, of commercial system less restricted than

Austria, yet more exclusive than England, where, however, some approach

towards the _juste milieu_ of the equitable principles of reciprocity,

may be observed in progress. How then has she fared in the general

_melee_ of industrial strife, and what are her prospects for the future

in despite of her stubborn resistance to the new lights? Let the figures

which follow answer for her. The imports and exports by land and sea,

were in--

Imports. Exports.

1834, for 192,909,426 francs. 135,790,426 francs.

1838, ... 238,052,659 ... 193,579,520 ...

1842, ... 288,387,663 ... 201,970,588 ...

For commerce special, that is, of internal production and consumption

alone, the returns show, in--

Imports. Exports.

1834, for 182,057,851 francs. 118,540,917 francs.

1838, ... 201,204,381 ... 156,851,054 ...

1842, ... 234,247,281 ... 142,069,162 ...

The commerce general comprises as well the imports and exports of the

special commerce as the transit and deliveries in entrepot of foreign

merchandise. From 1834 to 1842 the increase of imports and exports,

combined under the special head, was equal to more than three millions

sterling. Under the general head, the increase was nearly equal to six

and a half millions sterling. The comparatively large and

disadvantageous inequality betwixt the exports and imports, under both

heads, results mainly from the loss of those markets in the Dutch

colonies, and in Holland also, of which, during her connexion with

Holland and under the rule of the same sovereign, Belgium was almost

exclusively in possession. The formation of the German Commercial Union

cannot have failed also to damage her intercourse with Germany, to the

markets of which her contiguity afforded so easy and advantageous an

access.

It was our intention to have reviewed at some length the progress of the

German Customs Confederation since its complete formation, with some

inconsiderable accessions subsequently in 1834; but space forbids. In

brief, but conclusive, evidence of that progress under the rule of

protection, we may afford, however, to cite the following returns of

revenue accruing under the poundage system, representing, of course, the

growing quantities imported. The alternate years only are given, to

avoid the needless multiplication of figures:--

Gross sum. Net sum.

1834, 14,382,066 Thalers. 12,020,340 Thalers.

1836, 18,192,313 ... 15,509,758 ...

1838, 20,110,404 ... 17,801,113 ...

1840, 21,293,232 ... 19,019,738 ...

1842, 23,394,831 ... 21,059,441 ...

The Prussian thaler is 2s. 10-3/4d. sterling.

Year by year the rise has been uninterrupted; and with the growth of

imported commodities thus represented by the revenue, have indigenous

products multiplied, and native manufactures flourished and extended

more rapidly and widely still.

In a review of protected nations it is impossible that France should be

lost sight of. More rigorously protective than Belgium, prohibitive even

in some essential parts of her system, whilst stimulating by bounties in

others, the results of a policy so artificial and complicated can hardly

fail to confound your dabblers in first principles and rigid uniformity.

In the sense economical France has not hesitated to violate outrageously

all these first principles, all that perfect theory, in the worship and

application of which, politically and socially, her philosophers were

wont to run raging mad, and her legislators, like frantic bacchanals,

were in such sanguinary "haste to destroy." Singular as it may seem, and

audaciously heretical as the consummation in defiance of the order

inevitable of first causes and consequences invariable, the comparative

freedom of commercial principles in the old _regime_ of France allied

with political despotism, was, however, ruthlessly condemned to the

guillotine, along with the head of the Capets, never to be replaced by

the ferocious spirit of democracy, revelling in the realization of all

other visionary abstractions of perfect liberty, equality, levelling of

distinctions and monopolies. With the reign of the rights of man was

established, in the body politic, that of prohibition and restriction

over the body industrial--gradually sobered down, as we find it now, to

a system singularly made up of prohibition, restriction, protective, and

stimulant, since the last great revolution of July. It is in vain to

deny that, under the reign of that system, France has prospered and

progressed beyond all former example; that whether freer Switzerland may

have stood still or not, France, at least, has never retrograded one

step, nor ceased to advance for one year, as thus may be concisely

exemplified in the citation of three terms of her commercial career,

faithfully indicative of the annual consecutive movement of the whole

series:--

Imports.--General Commerce, Exports.

1831 512,825,551 francs, 618,169,911

1836 905,575,359 ... 961,284,756

1841 1,122,000,000 ... 1,065,000,000

Thus the imports in ten years had more than doubled, whilst the exports

had advanced 400 millions in official value; say upwards of twenty

millions sterling per annum for imports, and sixteen millions for

exports. The special commerce of France, representing exports of

indigenous and manufactured products, and imports for consumption, and,

therefore, significative of the march of domestic industry, presents the

following movement:--

Imports.--Special Commerce. Exports.

1831 374,188,000 455,574,000

1836 504,391,000 628,957,000

1841 805,000,000 761,000,000

The imports, therefore, for consumption, that is, duty paid upon and

consumed, had multiplied twofold in the ten years; and the exports of

the products of the soil and manufactures, at the rate of 300 millions

of francs or twelve millions sterling.

Thus flourish, wherever we turn our eyes, the interests of industry,

where defended and encouraged by that protection to which so righteously

entitled at home. The abolition of all protection, in the economical

sense, would be policy just as sane as, politically, to dismantle the

royal navy, start the guns overboard, and leave the hulls of the

men-of-war to sink or swim, in harbour or out, as they might. Conscious

of the inherent rottenness or insanity of such a destructive principle

of action, its advocates would now persuade us, that, although inimical

to protective imposts, they are by no means averse from the imposition

of such fiscal burdens as might be necessary for raising the amount of

revenue required for State exigencies. The difference between one sort

of impost and the other, would seem little more than a change of name--a

flimsy juggle of words--"a rose by any other name would smell as sweet;"

and, to the consumer, it matters little whether the tax he pay is levied

for protection or finance, the sum being equal. It is, and it has been

objected against various protective duties, that, as revenue, they are

little productive; but, in fact, they were not originally or generally

laid on with a view to revenue direct, but with the intent of protecting

those growing or established interests, which are productive of revenue

indirectly, by enabling protected producers to consume largely of taxed

commodities, or to contribute, by direct taxation, their quota towards

general revenue. If, by reciprocal agreement and stipulations with

foreign states which are, or might become, consumers of the products of

national industry, equitable equivalents can be found for the sacrifice

of a certain amount of home protection, that may be a question deserving

of consideration; but a very different question from the one-sided

suicidal abolition of all protection. It may pass under review

hereafter. In the mean time, let us hope that neither Government nor

Legislature will be insidiously betrayed, or openly bullied, into any

unsafe tampering with, or rash experiments upon, a sound and rational

principle.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote I: See _Morning Chronicle's_ report of an anti-corn-law farce

called by himself at Uxbridge or Aylesbury, or elsewhere, which is not

important, as the fact is vouched for. In answer to a query from a

worthy farmer, "to what cause he attributed the present depressed state

of agriculture?" Cobden unhesitatingly replied, "to over-production."

Cross-questioning of this kind would speedily prove the emptiness and

ignorance of the man.]

[Footnote J: _Vide_ Blackwood, 1843.]

JOLLY FATHER JOE

A TALE FROM "THE GOLDEN LEGEND," IN HONOUR OF THE B.V.M., TO BE READ

ESPECIALLY ON THE 15TH OF AUGUST, BEING THE FESTIVAL OF HER ASSUMPTION.

In olden times, when monks and friars, and priests of all degrees,

About the land were cluster'd thick as swarms of summer bees,

And, like the bees on sunny days, were wont abroad to roam,

To gather, as they went along, sweet provender for home,

Bright blazed the abbey's kitchen fire, the larder well was stored,

And merrily the beards wagg'd round the refectorial board.

What layman dare declare that they led not a life divine,

Who sat in state to dine off plate, and quaff the rosy wine?

Good men, and true as bricks were they, to every Church decree;

Because as kings were called "The State,"[K] they said "the Church are we;"

And then all men believed "The Church" could pardon every sin;

And foul as was the outward stain, wash white the soul within.

No marvel that they prosper'd so, for then, as in our times,

Sins ever were most plentiful--their traffic was in crimes;

And as each man who pardon sought, became the Church's debtor,

Each wicked deed their store would feed, the worse it was the better.

For they'd a regular tariff, as we've Sir Robert Peel's,

Stating so much for him who "lies, swears, murders, stabs, or steals;"

And p'rhaps a thousand items more, as "not attending mass,"

"Ogling the girls," "neglecting shrift," and others we'll let pass.

However, all a duty paid for priestly absolution,

According to the culprit's sex, rank, purse, or constitution.

Such was the pleasant state of things, some centuries ago,

With holy men throughout the land and jolly Father Joe.

"A round, fat, oily man of God," as ever sang a psalm,

Or closed a penitential fee devoutly in his palm,

Was Father Joe; and he also, when psalms and prayers were done,

In festive scene, with smile serene, aye cheerfully made one.

Fond of a jest, he'd do his best good-humour to provoke,

Fill up his glass, extol some lass, and crack some convent joke;

Nor heed the frown or looks cast down of atrabilious friars,

Till his gills grew red, and his laughing head look'd a rose amid the briers.

Right well he knew each roast and stew, and chose the choicest dishes,

And the bill of fare, as well as prayer, with its venison, game, and fishes;

Were he living now he might, I vow, with his culinary knowledge,

Have writ a book, or been a cook, or fellow of a college.

In those old days the wealthy knew such qualities to prize,

And our good priest much favour found in lords' and ladies' eyes;

For seldom in their ancient halls a sumptuous feast was dressing,

But Father Joe that way would go thereon to "ask a blessing."

When lords and ladies bade their guests to castles, halls, and towers,

Though every thing beside was good they seldom kept good hours;

Course after course slow marshall'd in with dignity and state,

Their prime repasts were apt to last sometimes till rather late.

And Father Joe esteem'd it rude to break a party up,

Indeed, it was his usual plan, where'er he dined to sup;

And then to take what modern rakes sometimes "a nightcap" call--

That is, a friendly parting glass, a sort of "over-all."

He used to say it kept at bay the night-air, cold, and damp,

And cheer'd him on his journey home as though it were a lamp;

Nought cared he then how black the clouds might gather overhead,

His heart felt brave as he humm'd a stave and boldly onward sped.

So Father Joe his course pursued--a pleasant mode of living;

Alternately at prayers and feasts--now taking, now forgiving;

But dark or light, by day or night, the great thing to be said is,

Where'er he went he ne'er forgot due homage to the ladies.

By this it is not meant that he knelt down to living beauty--

A deed forbidden and eschew'd by priests who mind their duty;

His were not walking, breathing belles, to monkish rules contrary,

But images of wood and wax, dress'd like the Virgin Mary.

He seldom pass'd by one of these without a genuflexion,

Beseeching that she'd condescend to grant him her protection;

Or if in too much haste to pray, he always bow'd politely

Before her shrine, as heretics to damsels fair and sprightly.

But such a holy, jolly man could scarce escape the eye

Of Satan, who, if all be true that legends testify,

Was then allow'd great liberty, and took, of course, much more,

Playing his pranks among all ranks, till he was "quite a bore."

Go where one might, some ugly sprite of his long-tail'd police

Was ever on the dodge to break, instead of keep, the peace;

And he himself at times appears to have appear'd where he,

By rules canonical forbid, no business had to be.

Much he alarm'd the laity, while reverend men of grace,

Like Father Joe, we're told, might snap their fingers in his face,

Or order him to take a dip all in the sea so red;

Wherefore, when holy men he saw, he turn'd about and fled.

Yet not the less watch'd he their steps, but set his imps to mark

The paths they trode, in hopes to catch them stumbling in the dark;

And one dark night--ah me! it is a grievous tale to tell--

In coming home past twelve o'clock, our jolly father fell.

He fell--and fell into a stream that ran both deep and strong;

No pain felt he, but seem'd to be as borne in sleep along;

His head contused, or else confused, allow'd him not to swim,

And Satan swore, with joyous roar, "At least, I'm sure of him!"

Crowding along the river's banks, his imps all eager ran,

Each striving to be first to catch the fallen holy man;

And when at length they fish'd him up, and laid him on the ground,

'Twas plain an inquest's verdict must have been brought in "found drown'd."

But twelve grave men were not there then, the case was graver far;

An evil set, as black as jet, all gabble, grin, and jar,

Claim'd Father Joe as lawful prize, and Satan said, "No doubt!

Angels and saints abandon him, or they'd have pulled him out:

"So bear him off!" But as he spake a sudden gleam of light

Broke forth, nor ceased, but still increased, till all around was bright;

And then appear'd what most he fear'd, in white and wing'd array,

A company of angels come to take from him his prey.

"We claim all holy men," said one who seem'd to be their chief;

"I don't dispute that," Satan cried; "but really, to be brief,

This friar or monk died reeling drunk, without or shrift or prayer;

So yours can't be, but comes to me. I only want what's fair."

The bright one look'd, of course, surprised, and then observed, that he

Could not conceive nor yet believe that such a thing could be;

So Satan call'd his witnesses, who swore through thick and thin,

That Father Joe couldn't stand or go before he tumbled in.

Now though the angel knew that imps were never over nice

In swearing at their master's call to prop each foul device,

He felt perplex'd, because the case look'd really rather shady,

And so declared, "I daren't decide till I consult Our Lady."

While thus he spake, a sudden quake ran through the dingy crowd,

And, as in votive paintings seen, encircled by a cloud,

With 'broider'd coat and lace-frill'd throat, and jewels rich and rare,

The Virgin Queen, with smiles serene, came sailing through the air.

The angels with an "Ave!" hail'd the lady to the place,

The impish band, each with his hand conceal'd his ugly face,

And Satan stared as though ensnared, but speedily regain'd

His wonted air of confidence, and still his claim maintain'd.

Said he, "I'm sure your ladyship could never stoop to own

Acquaintance with a libertine, to drunkenness so prone;

A gormandizer too you see, as full as any sack,"

And here he gave poor Joe a kick, and turn'd him on his back.

The lady started with surprise, and cried, "That face I know:

Oh yes! 'Tis he! I plainly see! Dear jolly Father Joe!

I do not say but perhaps he may, be somewhat over fat,

But there's no rule why sage or fool should go to you for that.

"His appetite was always good, a fact that makes it clear

He was no heavy-headed sot, be-stupefied with beer,

Nor spoil'd his dinners with hot lunch, but kept his palate clean,

And sat down cheerfully to dine--and that's no sin, I ween.

"And as for drink, I really think a man who weighs twelve score,

May be allow'd an extra pint, or p'rhaps a bottle more,

Than folks who're slim, or gaunt and grim, like some that I could name,

Who, when in company, are wish'd safe back to whence they came."

Here the black prince was seen to wince, the lady waved her hand,

And then resumed, "But now I'll speak of what I understand

A trifle better than you all--I mean of what is due

To ladies from all gentlemen. Of course I don't mean you.

"I mean all those whom folks suppose, or who themselves believe,

To be entitled to the name, (although I oft perceive

That many are mistaken quite,) should keep on the alert

In ladies' company, lest they our tender feelings hurt.

"A word or look that men may brook, may give a lady pain,

Wherefore from all that's coarse and rude, real gentlemen refrain;

Their manners gentle as their name, when they a lady greet,

A pleasant thing enough it is such gentlemen to meet.

"And such a man was Father Joe. He never pass'd me by

In disrespectful haste, although there might be no one nigh;

Nor duck'd his head, or look'd askance, like some rude people now,

Who seem to chuckle as they pass, to cheat one of a bow."

"But may it please your ladyship!" exclaimed the dusky wight,

"A man may be a precious rogue, though perfectly polite."

"I don't know that," the lady said, "but grant that now and then

Some fellows may appear polite who really are rude men,

"'Tis not the simple smirk or bow that makes the gentleman,

But constant care to please the fair in every way he can;

And this good father never miss'd whene'er my shrine he pass'd,

To kneel or bow, extremely low, up to the very last.

"Therefore I don't, because I won't, believe a word you say

Against him in his present plight, which, happen how it may,

Was doubtless accidental quite--at all events my will

Must be obey'd, and I command, you'll let him lie there still."

The dark one scowl'd and mutter'd low, about "a losing game,"

And being "done clean out of one," "done brown," and "burning shame,"

Then hung his head, and slank away, and all his dirty crew

Dispersed themselves about the land fresh mischief to pursue.

The lady then, in accents kind, accosted Jolly Joe,

"They're gone! You're safe! Come! Rouse yourself! You are not dead, I know;

But in a swoon that very soon away like dreams will pass,

Much sooner than the cold you'll catch by sleeping on the grass.

"Go quickly home and get to bed--don't stop to thank me now,

But come to-morrow to my shrine and make a solemn vow,

That when for friends or fellowship henceforth abroad you roam,

You'll never take a drop more wine than you can carry home."

She spake and vanish'd, and again the night was dark and drear;

Joe gave a grunt and shook himself, then shook again with fear,

For though his body lay inert, to all appearance dead,

It seems his mind was quite awake to what pass'd overhead.

Such near escape from such a scrape was certainly enough

To shake the stoutest nerves, and his were not by nature tough;

He got upon his legs, and then went down upon his knees,

Gave thanks, and said, "Dear Lady, pray do with me what you please."

Then up he rose and shook his clothes, and dripping by the way,

Straight homeward sped, and went to bed, where long he sleepless lay;

But natheless at the peep of dawn rose up again alert,

And as beseem'd a penitent put on a hairy shirt.

With humble air he then repair'd unto the Lady's shrine,

And took the vow, as she advised, concerning taking wine;

And thenceforth, as the legend runs, was never after found

In such a plight as on the night when he was nearly drown'd.

Here ends the tale. May it prevail this moral to impress

On good men all, who're apt to fall at times into excess,

To seek the ladies' company when sins or wine entice,

And strive not only for their smiles, but follow their advice.

Now prosper long our lovely Queen, and Albert whom she loves;

And may they, though at eagles' height, live lovingly as doves,

From youthful prime till father Time may change their locks to gray,

While all their Royal progeny "love, honour, and obey!"

May peace long smile on Britain's isle! may Blackwood's Magazine,

If possible, be better still than it hath ever been;

May every thing that's good increase, and what to goodness tends;

And may the writer always have the ladies for his friends!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote K: "L'Etat. C'est moi!" Quoth some French Roi; but which of

the "most Christian" set it was, I do not now recollect, and being from

home at this present writing, have no means of reference.]

THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN.

BY ELIZABETH B. BARRET.

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers!

Ere the sorrow comes with years?

They are leaning their young heads against their mothers,

And _that_ cannot stop their tears.

The young lambs are bleating in the meadows,

The young birds are chirping in the nest,

The young fawns are playing with the shadows,

The young flowers are blowing from the west;

But the young young children, O my brothers!

They are weeping bitterly!

They are weeping in the playtime of the others--

In the country of the free.

Do you question the young children in the sorrow,

Why their tears are falling so?

The old man may weep for his to-morrow

Which is lost in long ago.

The old tree is leafless in the forest--

The old year is ending in the frost;

The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest--

The old hope is hardest to be lost!

But the young young children, O my brothers!

Do ye ask them why they stand

Weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers,

In our happy fatherland?

They look up with their pale and sunken faces,

And their looks are sad to see;

For the man's grief untimely draws and presses

Down the cheeks of infancy.

"Your old earth," they say, "is very dreary--

Our young feet," they say, "are very weak!

Few paces have we taken, yet are weary--

Our grave-rest is very far to seek!

Ask the old why they weep, and not the children;

For the outside earth is cold--

And we young ones stand without, in our bewild'ring,

And the graves are for the old.

"True," say the young children, "it may happen

That we die before our time!

Little Alice died last year--the grave is shapen

Like a snowball, in the rime.

We look'd into the pit prepared to take her--

Was no room for any work in the close clay!

From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her,

Crying--'Get up, little Alice, it is day!'

If you listen by that grave in sun and shower,

With your ear down, little Alice never cries;

Could we see her face, be sure we should not know her,

For the new smile which has grown within her eyes.

For merry go her moments, lull'd and still'd in

The shroud, by the kirk-chime!

It is good when it happens," say the children,

"That we die before our time!"

Alas, the young children! they are seeking

Death in life, as best to have!

They are binding up their hearts away from breaking,

With a cerement from the grave.

Go out, children, from the mine and from the city--

Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do!

Pluck your handfuls of the meadow cowslips pretty--

Laugh aloud to feel your fingers let them through!

But the children say--"Are cowslips of the meadows

Like the weeds anear the mine?[L]

Leave us quiet in the dark of our coal-shadows,

From your pleasures fair and fine.

"For oh!" say the children, "we are weary--

And we cannot run or leap:

If we cared for any meadows, it were merely

To drop down in them and sleep.

Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping--

We fall upon our face, trying to go;

And underneath our heavy eyelids drooping,

The reddest flower would look as pale as snow.

For, all day, we drag our burden tiring,

Through the coal-dark underground--

Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron

In the factories, round and round.

"All day long, the wheels are droning, turning--

Their wind comes in our faces!

Till our hearts turn, and our heads with pulses burning,

And the walls turn in their places!

Turns the sky in the high window blank and reeling--

Turns the long light that droppeth down the wall--

Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling--

All are turning all the day, and we with all!

All day long, the iron wheels are droning--

And sometimes we could pray--

'O ye wheels' (breaking off in a mad moaning)

Stop! be silent for to-day!'"

Ay! be silent! let them hear each other breathing,

For a moment, mouth to mouth;

Let them touch each other's hands, in a fresh wreathing

Of their tender human youth;

Let them feel that this cold metallic motion

Is not all the life God giveth them to use;

Let them prove their inward souls against the notion

That they live in you, or under you, O wheels!

Still, all day, the iron wheels go onward,

As if Fate in each were stark!

And the children's souls, which God is calling sunward,

Spin on blindly in the dark.

Now, tell the weary children, O my brothers!

That they look to Him, and pray

For the blessed One, who blesseth all the others,

To bless _them_ another day.

They answer, "Who is God that he should hear us,

While this rushing of the iron wheels is stirr'd?

When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us

Pass unhearing--at least, answer not a word;

And _we_ hear not (for the wheels in their resounding)

Strangers speaking at the door.

Is it likely God, with angels singing round him,

Hears our weeping any more?

"Two words, indeed, of praying we remember;

And, at midnight's hour of harm,

_Our Father_, looking upward in the chamber,

We say softly for a charm.[M]

We say no other words except _our Father!_

And we think that, in some pause of angels' song,

He may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather,

And hold both within his right hand, which is strong.

_Our Father!_ If he heard us, he would surely

(For they call him good and mild)

Answer--smiling down the steep world very purely--

'Come and rest with me, my child.'

"But no," say the children, weeping faster;

"He is silent as a stone,

And they tell us, of his image is the master

Who commands us to work on.

Go to!" say the children; "up in heaven,

Dark, wheel-like, turning clouds are all we find!

Do not mock us! we are atheists in our grieving--

We look up for HIM--but tears have made us blind."

Do ye hear the children weeping and disproving,

O my brothers, what ye teach?

For God's possible is taught by his world's loving--

And the children doubt of each!

And well may the children weep before ye--

They are weary ere they run!

They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory

Which is brighter than the sun!

They know the grief of men, but not the wisdom--

They sink in the despair, with hope at calm--

Are slaves, without the liberty in christdom--

Are martyrs by the pang without the palm!

Are worn as if with age; yet unretrievingly

No joy of memory keep--

Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly--

Let them weep--let them weep!

They look up with their pale and sunken faces,

And their look is dread to see;

For you think you see their angels in their places,

With eyes meant for Deity.

"How long," they say, "how long, O cruel nation!

Will you stand, to move the world, on a child's heart,

Trample down with a mail'd heel its palpitation,

And tread onward to your throne amid the mart?

Our blood splashes upward, O our tyrants!

And your purple shows your path--

But the child's sob curseth deeper in the silence,

Than the strong man in his wrath!"

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote L: A commissioner mentions the fact of weeds being thus

confounded with the idea of flowers.]

[Footnote M: The report of the commissioners represents instances of

children, whose religious devotion is confined to the repetition of the

two first words of the Lord's Prayer.]

LETTER TO CHRISTOPHER NORTH, ESQ.

RESPECTED CHRISTOPHER,

As an appendage to the "_Whippiad_," so happily rescued from the fate

designed for it by its author, to be embalmed in the never-dying pages

of Maga, the following _jeu d'esprit_, connected with its hero, may not

be unacceptable, especially as both productions were generally

attributed to the same pen. A note on the line--

"And cuckoo mingle with the thoughts of Bell,"

towards the end of the first canto, alludes to "a young lady of singular

elegance and personal accomplishments," to whom Dr Toe's attentions were

supposed not to have been unacceptable. This elegant and accomplished

young lady, however, (a certain Miss Bell H----,) is said to have

eventually jilted the Doctor, and married her footman; a circumstance

which gave rise to the following stanzas:--

'Twixt footman John and Dr Toe

A rivalship befell,

Which of the two should be the Beau

To bear away the _Belle_!

The Footman won the Lady's heart,

And who can blame her?--No man.

The _whole_ prevail'd against the _part:_

'Twas _Foot_-man _versus Toe_-man.

By the way, Christopher, your compositor has "misused the queen's press

most damnably" in the quotation from Coriolanus prefixed to the second

canto, where he converts the "Great _Toe_ of the Assembly" into its

"Great _Foe_." Rap his knuckles with your crutch, old Gentleman; and

tell him, too, that the "Shawstone's party" he speaks of was a very

jolly _symposium_, given by a very hearty fellow of the name of

"Rawstorne," whose _cognomen_ stands _sic in orig._

Thine ever.

My dear Christopher,

ERIGENA.

BRAZENOSE QUAD., _July_ 15, 1843.

THE REPEAL AGITATION.

No popularity does, or can exist which is not liable to collapses.

Two-fold infirmity, alike for him who judges, and for him who suffers

judgment, will not allow it to be otherwise. Sir Robert Peel, a minister

more popular by his tenure of office than any whom this generation will

perhaps again behold, has not been able to escape that ordinary trial of

human prosperity. Suddenly a great cloud of public danger has gathered

around him: upon every path there were seen to lie secret snares: no

wisdom could make an election amongst them absolutely safe: he made that

election which comparison of the cases and private information seemed to

warrant: and immediately, of his own supporters many are offended. We

believe it to be a truth, one amongst those new truths whose aspiring

heads are even now rising above our horizon, that the office of first

minister, either for France or England, is becoming rapidly more trying

by the quality of its duties. We talk of energy: we invoke the memories

of Pitt and of Chatham: "oh, for one hour," we exclaim, of those great

_executive_ statesmen--who "trampled upon impossibilities," or glorified

themselves in a "vigour beyond the law!" Looking backwards, we are

right: in our gratitude we do not err. But those times are past. For Sir

Robert Peel no similar course is open. Changes in the temper of the age,

changes in the constitution of public bodies, absolute revolutions in

the _kind_ of responsibilities by which a minister is now fettered,

forbid us to imagine that any raptures of national sympathy will ever

crowd forward to the support of extreme or summary measures, such as

once might have been boldly employed. That style of aspiring action

presumes some approach to unity in public opinion. But such unity we

shall hardly witness again, were a hostile invader even landed on our

shores.

Meantime it will add weight to any thing we can offer in behalf of the

Irish policy now formally avowed by Government, if we acknowledge

ingenuously that for some weeks we ourselves shared in the doubts upon

its wisdom, not timidly expressed by weighty Conservatives. We believe

it, indeed, natural and honourable that the first movement of feeling

upon cases such as those now proceeding in Ireland, should be one of

mere summary indignation. Not that scurrility and the basest of

personalities from Mr O'Connell are either novelties, or difficult to

bear. To hear an old man, a man whose own approach to the period of

physical decay, is the one great hope and consolation of all good

subjects in Ireland, scoffing at grey hairs in the Duke of

Wellington--calling, and permitting his creatures to call, by the name

of "vagabonds" or "miscreants," the most eminent leaders of a sister

nation, who are also the chosen servants of that mistress whom he

professes to honour: this might have been shocking in any man who had

not long since squandered his own ability to shock. As it is, these

things move only laughter or silent disgust, according to the temper of

readers. And we are sure that not merely the priests, or men of

education amongst Mr O'Connell's followers, but even the peasantry, must

in their hearts perceive how indispensable is a _general_ habit of

self-restraint and abstinence from abusive language to the effect of any

individual insult These were _not_ the causes of public indignation. Not

what Mr O'Connell said, but what he did, kindled the general wrath. To

see him marching and countermarching armies, to find him bandying

menaces with the Government of this great nation, and proclaiming

(openly or covertly) that he would not be the party to strike the first

blow, but that assuredly he would strike the second--thinking it little

to speak as a traitor, unless also he spoke as an European potentate;

this was the spectacle before which the self-control of so many melted

away, and which raised the clamour for vindictive justice. It quickened

the irritation to know, that hostile foreigners were looking on with

deep interest, and every where misinterpreting the true readings of the

case. Weeks passed before we could thoroughly reconcile our own feelings

to the passive toleration, or apparent apathy, of the Government. Our

sense of prudence took the alarm, not less than our feelings. And

finally, if both could have acquiesced, our sense of consistency was

revolted by what met the public eye; since, if the weak were to be

punished, why should the strong be connived at? Magistrates, to the

amount of three score, had been dismissed for giving their countenance

to the Repeal meetings; and yet the meetings themselves, which had

furnished the very principle of the reproach, and the ground of

punishment, were neither dispersed nor denounced.

Rarely, however, in politics, has any man final occasion to repent of

forbearance. There may be a tempest of provocation towards the policy of

rigour; that policy may justify itself to the moral sense of men; modes

even of prudence may be won over to sanction it; and yet, after all the

largest spirit of civil prudence, such as all of us would approve in any

historical case removed from the passions of the times, will suggest a

much nobler promise of success through a steady adherence to the

counsels of peace, than any which could attend the most efficient

prosecution of a hostile intervention. The exceeding weight of the

crisis has forced us into a closer comparison than usual of the

consequences probably awaiting either course. Usually in such cases, we

are content to abide the solutions of time; the rapid motion of events

settling but too hastily all doubts, and dispensing with the trouble of

investigation. Here, however, the coincidence of feelings, heavily

mortified on our own part, with the serious remonstrances in the way of

argument from journals friendly to Sir Robert Peel's government, would

not suffer us to rest in the uneasy condition of dissatisfied suspense.

We found ourselves almost coerced into pursuing the two rival policies,

down to their separate issues; and the result has satisfied ourselves,

that the minister is right. We shall make an effort for bringing over

the reader to our own convictions. Sir Robert, we shall endeavour to

show, has _not_ been deficient in proper energy; his forbearance, where

it has been most conspicuous, is either absolute--in which case it will

be found to justify itself, even at present, to the considerate--or it

is but provisional, and waiting for contingencies--in which case it will

soon unmask itself more terrifically than either friend or enemy,

perhaps, anticipates.

The Minster's defence is best pursued through the turns of his own

admirable speech in the recent debates on the grievances of Ireland.

But, previously, let us weigh for a moment Mr O'Connell's present

position, and the chances that seem likely to have attended any attempt

to deal with him by blank resistance. It had been always understood, by

watchful politicians, that the Repeal agitation slumbered only until the

reinstalment of a Conservative administration. The Whigs were

notoriously in collusion at all times, more or less openly, with this

"foul conspiracy:"[N] a crime which, in them, was trebly scandalous; for

they it was, in times past, who had denounced the conspiracy to the

nation as ruinous; in _that_ they were right: but they also it was, who

had pointed out the leading conspirator as an individual to national

indignation in a royal speech; and in _that_ they degraded, without a

precedent, the majesty of that high state-document. Descending thus

abjectly, as regarded the traitor, the Whigs were not unwilling to

benefit by the treason. They did so. They adulterated with treason

during their term of power: the compact being, that Mr O'Connell should

guide for the Government their exercise of Irish patronage so long as he

guaranteed to them an immunity from the distraction of Irish

insubordination. When the Tories succeeded to power, this

armistice--this treasonable capitulation with treason--of necessity fell

to the ground; and once again Mr O'Connell prepared for war. _Cessante

mercede cessat opera_. How he has conducted this war of late, we all

know. And such being the brief history of its origin, embittered to him

by the silent expression of defiance, unavoidably couched in any

withdrawal of the guilty commerce, we all guess in what spirit he will

wish to conduct it for the future. But _there_ presents itself the

question of his ability--of his possible resources--for persevering in

his one mode of hostility. He would continue his array of mobs, but

_can_ he? We believe not. Already the hours of his sorceries are

numbered: and now he stands in the situation of an officer on some

forlorn outpost, before a superior enemy, and finding himself reduced to

half a dozen rounds of ammunition. In such a situation, whatever

countenance he may put on of alacrity and confidence, however rapidly he

may affect to sustain his fire in the hope of duping his antagonist into

a retreat, he cannot surmount or much delay the catastrophe which faces

him. More and more reluctantly Mr O'Connell will tell off the few

lingering counters on his beadroll: but at length comes the last; after

which he is left absolutely without resources for keeping the agitation

alive, or producing any effect whatever.

Many fancy _not_. They suppose it possible that these parades or

field-days may be repeated. But let us consider. Already it impresses a

character of childishness on these gatherings of peasants; and it is a

feeling which begins to resound throughout Ireland, that there is

absolutely no business to be transacted--not even any forms to be gone

through--and, therefore, no rational object by which such parades can be

redeemed from mockery. Were there a petition to be subscribed, a vote to

be taken, or any ostensible business to furnish an excuse for the

meeting--once, but once only, in each district, it might avail. As it

is, we have the old nursery case before us--

"The king of France march'd up the hill,

With twenty thousand men,"

followed by his most Christian majesty's successful countermarch. The

very children in the streets would follow them with hootings, if these

fooleries were reiterated. But, if that attempt were made, and in some

instances should even succeed, so much the worse for the interests of

Repeal. The effect would be fatal. No device could be found more

excellent for killing the enthusiasm which has called out such

assemblies, than the evidence thus forced upon the general mind--that

they were inoperative, and without object, either confessed or

concealed. Hitherto the toil and exhaustion of the day had been

supported, doubtless, under a belief that a muster of insurrectionary

forces was desired, with a view to some decisive course of action, when

all should be found prepared. The cautionary order issued for total

abstinence from violence had been looked upon, of course, as a momentary

or _interim_ restraint. But if once it were understood that this order

was absolute, or of indefinite application, the chill to the national

confidence would be that of death. For we are not to suppose that the

faith and love of the peasantry _can_ have been given, either personally

to Mr O'Connell, or to Repeal, as a cause for itself. Both these names

represent, indirectly, weightier and dearer objects, which are supposed

to stand behind: even Repeal is not valued as an end--but simply as a

means to something beyond. But let that idea once give way, let the

present hope languish, let it be thrown back to a period distant or

unassigned--and the ruin of the cause is sealed. The rural population of

Ireland has, it is true, been manoeuvred and exhibited merely as a

threatening show to England; but, assuredly, on that same day when the

Irish peasants, either from their own sagacity, or from newspapers,

discover that they have been used as a property by Mr O'Connell, for

purposes in which their own interest is hard to be deciphered,

indifference and torpor will succeed. For this once, the nationality of

Ireland has been too frantically stimulated for the toleration of new

delays. Mr O'Connell is at last the martyr of his own success. Should

the priestly order refuse to advance further on a road nominally

national, but from which, at any moment, the leader may turn off, by

secret compromise, into a by-road, leading only to family objects,

universal mutiny must _now_ follow. The general will of the priesthood

has thus far quelled and overruled the individual will; but that

indignant recusants amongst that order _are_ muttering and brooding we

know, as well from the necessities of human nature, as from actual

letters already beginning to appear in the journals. Under all these

circumstances, a crisis is to be dreaded by the central body of

Repealers, which body is doubtless exceedingly small. And what will

hasten this crisis is the inevitable result from a fact noticed as yet

only for ostentation. It is this. The weekly contributions in money, and

their sudden overflow, have occasioned some comments in the House of

Lords; on the one side with a view to the dishonesty apparent in the

management of this money, and to the dark purposes which it may be

supposed to mask--on the other, with a view to the increasing heartiness

in the service, which it seems to express. It is, however, a much more

reasonable comment upon this momentary increase, so _occasional_ and

timed to meet the sudden resurrection of energy in the general movement,

that the money has flowed so freely altogether under that sane

persuasion which also has drawn the peasantry to the meetings--viz. the

fixed anticipation of an immediate explosion. Multitudes in the belief,

suddenly awakened and propagated through Ireland--that now at length,

all further excuses laid aside, the one great national enterprize, so

long nursed in darkness, had ripened for execution, and would at last

begin to move--have exerted themselves to do what, under other

circumstances, they would not have done. Even simple delay would now

irritate these men beyond control. They will call for an account. This

will be refused, and cannot _but_ be refused. The particular feeling of

these men, that they have been hoaxed and swindled, concurring with the

popular rage on finding that this storm also, like all before it, is to

blow over--if there be faith in human nature, will do more to shake the

Repeal speculation than any possible course of direct English

resistance. All frauds would be forgiven in an hour of plausible

success, or even in a moment of undeniable preparation. But

disappointment coming in the rear of extravagant hopes will be fatal,

and strike a frost to the heart of the conspiracy. For it cannot be

doubted that none of these extra services, whether in money or personal

attendance, would have been rendered without express assurances from

high quarters, and not _merely_ from fond imaginations founded on

appearances, that the pretended regeneration for Ireland was at land.

Now let us see how these natural sequences, from the very nature of the

showy demonstrations recently organized, and from the very promises by

which they must have been echoed, will operate in relation to the

measures of the Government; either those which have been adopted, or

those which have been declined. Had the resolution (a fatal resolution,

as we _now_ think) been adopted in the cabinet to disperse the meetings

by force, blood would have flowed; and a plea, though fraudulent in

virtue, would have been established for O'Connell--such as we may

suppose to be built upon a fact so liable to perversion. His hands would

have been prodigiously strengthened. The bloodshed would have been kept

before the eyes of the people for ever, and would have taken innumerable

forms. But the worst, ultimately the ruinous, operation of this official

intervention would have lain in the plenary excuse from his engagements

furnished to Mr O'Connell, and in the natural solution of all those

embarrassments which for himself he _cannot_ solve. At present he is at

his wits' end to devise any probable scheme for tranquillizing the

universal disappointment, for facing the relapse from infinite

excitement, and for propitiating the particular fury of those who will

now hold themselves to have been defrauded of their money. Leave this

tempest to itself, and it will go near to overwhelm the man: or if the

local separation of the parties most injured should be so managed as to

intercept that result, assuredly it will overwhelm the cause. In the

estimate, therefore, of O'Connell, we may rely upon it--that a battalion

of foot, or a squadron of horse, appearing in aid of the police to clear

the ground at Mallow or at Donnybrook, would have seemed the least

questionable godsend that has ever illuminated his experience. "O

_jubilate_ for a providential deliverance!" that would have been his

cry. "Henceforward be all my difficulties on the heads of my opponents!"

But at least, it is argued, the _fact_ would have been against him; the

dispersion would have disarmed him, whatever colouring he might have

caused it to bear. Not at all. We doubt if one meeting the less would

have been held. Ready at all times for such emergencies, the leader

would not suffer himself to be found without every conceivable legal

quillet, sharpened and retouched, against the official orders. He would

have had an interview with the authorities: he would have shown a flaw

in the wording of the instructions: he would have rebaptized his

assembly, and, where no business goes on, any name will answer: he would

have called his mob "a tea-party," or "an agricultural association;" the

sole real object concerned, which is the exhibition of vast numbers

trained and amenable to instant restraint, would have proceeded under

new names. This would no longer have languished when Government had

supplied the failing impulse: and in the mean time to have urged that,

merely by its numbers, combined with its perilous tendencies, the

gathering was unlawful--would have availed nothing: for the law

authorities in parliament, right or wrong, have affected doubts upon

that doctrine; and, when parliament will not eventually support him, it

matters little that a minister of these days would, for the moment,

assume the responsibility of a strong measure. Or, if parliament were to

legislate anew for this special case, the Repealer would then split his

large mobs into many small ones: he would lecture, he would preach, he

would sing, in default of other excuses for meeting. No law, he would

observe coolly to the magistrate, against innumerable prayer-meetings or

infinite concerts. The items would still be reported to one central

office: the _facit_ would be the same; and it would tell for the same

cause.

Thus it appears that no fact would have resulted against the Repealers,

had the Government taken a severe course. Still, may it not be said that

a _fact_, and a strong one, survives on the other side, viz. against the

Government, under this forbearing course which they really have taken?

What fact? Is it the organization of all Ireland? Doubtless that bears

an ominous sound: but it must be considered--that if the leader cannot

wield this vast organization for any purposes of his own, and plainly he

cannot so long as he acquires no fresh impulses or openings to action

from the indiscretion of his opponents, but on the contrary must be

ruined--cause and leader, party and partisan chief, by the very 'lock'

(or as in America is said, the 'fix') into which he has brought himself,

by the pledge which he cannot redeem--far less can that organization be

used by others or for any other purpose. It is an organization not

secret; not bound by oaths; loose and careless in its cohesion; not

being good for its proper object, it is good for no other, and we hear

of no one attribute by which it threatens the public peace beyond its

numerical extent.

But is _that_ true? Is it numerically so potent as it is represented? We

hardly need to say, that the exaggerations upon this point have been too

monstrous to call for any pointed exposures. With respect to one of the

southern meetings--that at Cork, we believe--by way of applying some

scale or measurement to the exaggerations, we may mention that a

military man, actually measured the ground after the retirement of the

crowd. He ascertained that the ground could barely accommodate

twenty-five thousand men standing in regimental order. What was the

report of the newspaper? Four to five hundred thousand, as usual.

Indeed, we may complain of our English Conservative Journals as, in this

point, faithfully reflecting the wildest statements of the Repeal

organs. So much strength was apparently given, for the moment, to the

Repeal interest by these outrageous fictions, that we, for our own

parts, (whilst hesitating as to other points of the Government policy,)

did not scruple to tax the Home Minister and the Queen's Lieutenant with

some neglect of duty[O] in not sending experienced officers of the army

to reconnoitre the meetings in every instance, and authentically to make

returns of the numbers present. Since reading the minister's speech,

however, we are disposed to think that this neglect was not altogether

without design. It appears that Sir Robert relies in part upon these

frightful falsehoods for effecting a national service by rousing the

fears of the Roman Catholic landholders. In this there is no false

refinement; for, having very early done all the mischief they could as

incendiary proclamations of power to the working classes, the

exaggerations are now, probably, operating with even more effect in an

opposite direction upon the great body of the Catholic gentry. Cordially

to unite this body with the government of Ireland would, by much,

overbalance the fickle support of the peasantry, given for the moment to

the cause of disaffection. That disaffection, under its present form, is

already, perhaps, on the point of unlocking its union. It _cannot_ be

permanent as an organization; for, without hope, no combination can

sustain itself, and a disaffection, founded purely upon _social_ causes,

can be healed by no Government whatever. But if the Catholic gentry,

treated as they now are with fraternal equality, should heartily

coalesce with the party promoting a closer _British_ connexion, that

would be a permanent gain.

The Irish policy, therefore, the immediate facts of the policy, pursued

by the Government, if we distinguish it from the general theory and

principles of their policy as laid down in the speech of the Premier,

has not been what it is said to have been. Summing up the heads, let us

say that we are _not_ resigned negligently to the perils of civil war;

those perils, though as great as Mr O'Connell could make them, are not

by any means as great as Mr O'Connell describes them; the popular arrays

are ridiculously below the amounts reported to us: in some instances

they have been multiplied by 20, probably in all by 15; the rumour and

the terror of these arrays have operated both ways; _for_ us more

permanently than against us. Lastly, it is not true that the Government

has proceeded only by negative steps; the army has been increased in

Ireland, the garrisons have been better arranged; military stations have

been strengthened, and seditious magistrates have been dismissed.

Upon this last point, one word: we have seen nothing more grossly

factious in the conduct of the Whigs, than the assertion, that these

magistrates ought _not_ to have been dismissed. Well might the

Chancellor say, that the discussion had been conducted by petty

lawyerlike quibbles. The case stands thus: there are two principles

concerned in the tenure of the magistrate's office--theoretic

amenability to the letter of the law, and practical serviceableness for

his duties. Either furnishes a ground of dismissal. To be scandalously

indecorous, to be a patron of gambling in public places, would offer no

_legal_ objection to a magistrate; but he would be dismissed as a person

unsuitable by his habits to the gravity of the commission. If you hire a

watchman to protect your premises, and you discharge him upon the ground

that he has been found drinking with reputed burglars, no man will hold

the watchman to have been hardly used, because the burglars had not been

convicted judicially. That allegation amounts to this: that he has not

committed any offence known to the laws. What will you reply? "I know

it," you say: "I grant it; and therefore I charge you with no offence.

But I dismiss you on a principle of expedience. You have violated no

law; but you have shown yourself to be a man disqualified for the very

urgent duties of the post--much more disqualified than you would have

been by sickness, blindness, or any other physical infirmity."

Mr O'Connell now threatens to pursue his career, by repeating that same

absurd misdemeanour of summoning a mock parliament, which, some twenty

and odd years ago, a Staffordshire baronet expiated by the penalties of

fine and imprisonment. At that crisis we shall see the tranquil minister

unmask his artillery. But could it be reasonable to look for a faithful

discharge of painful duties, arising in these later stages of the Repeal

cause (and duties applying probably to the cases of gentlemen,

neighbours, fellow partisans,) from one who had already promoted that

cause, in its previous stages, to the extent of sedition and

conspiracy? He who has already signalized to the nation his readiness

to co-operate in so open a mischief as dismemberment of the empire,

wherefore should he shrink from violating an obscure rule of the common

law, or a black letter statute?

But enough of the policy which _has_ been pursued. _That_, by its nature

is limited, and of necessity, in many points of recent application, is a

policy of watching and negation. Now, let us turn to the general policy,

as it is reviewed in the very comprehensive speech of the Prime

Minister. This applies equally to the past and the future. The French

journals, and in particular the _Debats_, complain that it is crowded

with details. How should this be otherwise? Can there be an answer given

to charges whose vice is their vagueness, otherwise than by

_circumstantial_ exposures of their falsehood? Ireland, for instance,

has been unfairly treated as to taxes, partition of indulgences,

pecuniary advances. That is the charge. Can it be met with another

answer than by absolute arithmetic, tax-office proofs, or returns from

the Exchequer? "But in these a foreigner takes no interest." Doubtless!

and _that_ should be an argument with the foreigner for his declining to

judge upon the question. Want of understanding is not at all a worse

disqualification for acting as a judge than want of interest in the

subject. We mention this pointedly; because it is not to foreigners

chiefly that this maxim applies: a profound injustice continually

operates in this way amongst the parliamentary foes of Government. Often

in private life we witness the unprincipled case--that, upon suspecting

a man's vindication to be established by any investigation, men will

decline to look into it, as really possessing too little interest for

themselves; though these same people had not found any want of interest

in the allegations--nay, had mastered all the details--so long as the

charges pointed to some disgraceful issue, and the verdict threatened to

be unfavourable. An instance of this baseness, truly shocking to the

moral sense, is found in the ridiculous charge against the ministers,

founded upon the mail-coach contract. This was not at all too petty to

be pressed with rancour. However, it was answered. The answer, on the

principle of the case, and coupled with the illustrations from parallel

cases, is decisive. And then the taunt is--"But why fasten upon charges

so minute and frivolous?" Minute and frivolous, we grant; but not so in

that degree which prevented you gentlemen in opposition from dwelling on

then with genial spite, as being odious in proportion to their

pettiness. "You, you, it was," says Sir Robert, "that pressed the case!"

Certainly: and they it was who would never have withdrawn the case had

they not found it untenable. It is thus easy for two men to concert a

collusive attack which shall succeed either way, and be dishonest both

ways. "Do you," says the one, "_try on_ this particular case for

harassing the minister. If it tells, if it sticks, then we both pitch

into him. If it fails, then rise I and say:--'How shameful in an

official person to throw dust in the eyes of the House by detaining it

upon a miserable trifle, whilst the criminal gravities of his conduct

are skulking in the rear under this artifice for misleading the public

attention!'"

With this prefatory explanation, called for, perhaps, by the unequal

importance of the points reviewed, we shall now rehearse the heads of

this speech. It is a speech that, by anticipation, we may call

memorable, looking before and after; good, as a history for half a

century gone by since our union with Ireland; good, we venture to hope,

as a rule and as a prophecy for the spirit of our whole future connexion

with that important island. We shall move rapidly; for our rehearsal

will best attain the object we have in view by its brevity and

condensation.

I.--Mr Roebuck had insisted that Ireland was made the victim of our

English parsimony; not once and away, but systematically. This happens

to be a charge peculiarly irritating to all parties--to the authors of

the parsimony, and to its objects. And, says Sir Robert, I am told to

avoid it as secondary; but observe, it is quite substantial enough, as

others say, to justify "an impeachment." This is the honourable

barrister's word; and a "soft" impeachment it will turn out.

_a._ By the Act of Union, it was provided that, in voting the civil

estimates for Ireland, whatever sum it should appear that Ireland had

averaged for six years before the Union, in her own votes for a

particular purpose, annually that same sum should be voted for a period

prescribed by the United Parliament. The purpose was, internal

improvement in Ireland, and any national uses, whether pious or

charitable. What, then, had been the extent of the Irish vote? We

neglect small fractions, and state that it had averaged seventy-three

thousand a year. For the first twenty years, therefore, the obligation

upon the Imperial Parliament had been, to vote twenty times that sum, or

L. 1,460,000. This was the contract. What was the performance? Five

millions, three hundred and forty-eight thousand pounds, or three and a

half times the amount of the promise.

_b._ Another extraordinary vote in the Irish Parliament, previous to the

Union, had been upon the miscellaneous estimates. This vote, when

averaged on the same principle, had produced annually one hundred and

twenty-eight thousand pounds. To the same sum the United Parliament

stood pledged for the first period of twenty-eight years succeeding the

Union. The reader will see at once that the result ought to have been

little more than three and a half millions. That was the debt. What was

the payment? Something beyond five millions.

_c._ Upon another comparison, viz. between Scotland and Ireland, as to

another class of _extras_ and contingencies, it turns out--that, during

the last period of seven years, to Scotland had been voted six hundred

and sixty thousand pounds, to Ireland two million, two hundred, and

sixty thousand; to Scotland, that is, less than _one_ hundred thousand

_per annum_; to Ireland, more than _three_ hundred thousand.

In the same category stands the relative taxation. Ireland was to pay

two-seventeenths of the whole imperial burden. That was the bargain,

which we are not called on to reopen. But, as _extras_, as a liberal

_bonus_ upon this bargain, Ireland has been excused from paying for

windows--for assessed taxes--for soap. At this moment, in addition to

these liberal discounts, she has no _national_ share, _as_ Ireland,[P]

in the Income Tax: and she may be said, in one sense, to receive her

letters gratuitously, for the postage yields nothing to Government, all

being absorbed by the Irish post office. It is little, after this, to

start possibilities of unequal contribution as regards the indirect

taxation: this could not be separately apportioned to the three great

limbs of the empire without disturbing the great currents of commerce.

It is enough that by exemptions upon the direct taxes, so far as

concerns three of them--window, assessed, and income--Ireland receives a

large indemnity.

II. Connected with the last head is the reproach made to Great Britain

upon the subject of railway encouragement. What encouragement? By money?

Yes, says Lord John Russell, whose experience in office (as one of a

cabinet plagued in the way that all cabinets are by projectors and

scheming capitalists) ought to have taught him better. Have we given any

money to our own railways? No: but England is rich. True: and Ireland is

not suffered to be _so_ rich as she might be by her Irish "friends." But

rich or not rich, is no question here. If schemes of profit are not

profitable in this country, we do not encourage them. If they _are_

profitable, they want no encouragement. Still, it is said, might it not

be prudent to feed the railroads in Ireland, not with any view to the

scheme for itself but considered as a means of development for the

circumjacent country? No, replies Sir Robert, that is an error: railways

may benefit _by_ the country: but the country through which they race,

is rarely affected by _them_ more than the atmosphere aloft by the

balloons. The great towns on the route, or at the extremities, doubtless

benefit; but in too small a degree, unless they are manufacturing towns,

to warrant the least thoughtful of ministers in assisting them. However,

to make a beginning, and as a topic to be borne in mind, how much would

be wanted? A matter of _ten millions_, says Lord John. _Olli

subridens_, replies the minister, "What! only that?" But, returning to

business, he reminds the house--that, even for so small a sum as ten

millions sterling, the nation would perhaps expect security. Who is to

give it? Are the counties traversed to be assessed? But they will disown

the benefit arising. And, says Sir Robert, take a miniature case--a sum

little more than one-tenth of ten millions was advanced by this country

on account of the Irish work-houses, and for a time there was some

advantage gained to the industry of the land. But that soon passed away,

and then two evils arose at once. The money was to be repaid, and the

employment was at an end. But this latter evil was worse than it seemed,

for it did not act as a simple privation of so much good; the _extra_

stimulation of the national industry, as invariably happens, and as at

this moment we see in England upon the cessation of a ten years' demand

for iron, on account of our own railways, brought about a corresponding,

exhaustion for the new Poor Law, tending violently to civil tumults. The

repayment of that advance will yet cost Ireland many a groan.

III. If Ireland, then, is not ill-treated as to her taxation, or her

public improvements, is it true that she is ill-treated in the persons

of her children? That also has been said; but Sir Robert disperses that

fancy by facts which are as conclusive as they are really little needed

at this day. Sculptors had been appointed by members of the cabinet,

police commissioners, &c.; and, as will easily be believed, with no

question ever mooted as to their birth, whether English, Scotch, or

Irish. Subsequently, however, it had turned out as a blind fact, which

is useful in showing the entire indifference to such a point in the

minds of public men, that the larger proportion of successful candidates

were Irish. This was an accident certainly, but an accident

irreconcilable with the least shadow of prejudice pointing in that

direction.

IV. Of social grievances, grievances connected with the state of

society, there are but too many in Ireland: relations between landlord

and tenant for instance; but these are so little caused or aggravated by

Parliament, that they cannot even be lightened by Parliament. What

little is possible, however, says Sir Robert, we will attempt. The

elective franchise is another case; yet, if that is now too much

narrowed, why is it so? Let Ireland thank herself, and the growing

indisposition amongst Irish landlords to grant leases. Might we not,

then, transfer to Ireland our English franchise? But _that_, applied to

Irish institutions and arrangements, would narrow the electoral basis

still further than it is narrowed. Not, therefore, _against_ the Irish,

but in their behalf, we withhold our own unsuitable privileges. It is a

separate question, besides, whether the _moral_ civilization of Ireland

is equal to the exercise of our English franchise. Education of the

people again, if there is an obstacle at this time to its movement in

Ireland, where does it originate? We all know the great schism upon that

subject existing amongst the Irish Protestants, and how embarrassing the

Government has found that fend--how intractable and embittered, for the

very reason that it rested upon no personal jealousies which might have

relaxed or been overruled, but (for one side at least) upon deep

conscientious scruples. Reverence those scruples we must; but still the

Irish are not entitled to charge upon ministers a public evil of their

own creation. In all these calamities, or others of the same nature,

oppressing the state of society in Ireland, and derived as an

inheritance from ancient times, the blame too notoriously, in no part of

it, rests with the English ministers; and the proof is evident in this

fact--that, except by one monstrous anti-social proposal from a very few

of the opposition members, as a remedy for the land-occupancy

complaints--a proposal strongly disavowed by the leaders of the party,

no _practical_ flaw was detected, either of omission or commission, as

affecting the ministerial policy. The objections were pure generalities;

and even Lord John Russell, who adopted the usual complaint against the

minister, that he brought forward no definite plan, and whose own field

of choice was therefore left all the wider, offered nothing more

specific than the following mysterious suggestion, which is probably a

Theban hieroglyphic--that, like as the "celebrated" Cromwell, in times

past, did appoint Sir Matthew Hale to the presiding seat on the bench

of justice, even so ought Sir Robert Peel to----. But there the

revelation ceased. What are we to suppose the suppressed _apodosis_ of

the proposition? Was it to disarm Mr O'Connell, by making him an

archbishop? Little propensity have we to treat a great national crisis

with levity; but surely every man is entitled to feel indignant, that

when the burden of attack upon Government, is for their silence with

regard to specific measures, (which, to be effectual, must often be

secret,) those who have the good fortune to be under no such restraints

of secrecy, find themselves able to suggest absolutely nothing. National

resources were not locked up in the treasury--the particular choice may

be secret, but the resources themselves lie open to the whole world--to

us, to Lord John Russell, who have no power, quite as much as to Sir

Robert Peel, who wields the thunder. And we cannot but remind the

reader, that one reason, beyond the policy of concealment, which made it

hard for Government to offer suggestions absolutely new, was the simple

fact, that such as were fit to be published they had already _acted_ on.

The remodeling of arrangements for the army, the bill for intercepting

the means of arming a rebel force, and the suppression of

insurrectionary magistrates--these three measures were clearly the first

steps to be taken. One only of the three is still lingering; whom, have

we to thank for _that_? A ministry to which the Duke of Wellington

belongs, is not likely to talk first and act afterwards. By the time it

became necessary to talk, their work, _for the present_, had been done.

But some few significant words there were from leaders in both Houses,

which convince us, that, upon any important _change_ of movements on the

part of the Repealers, the silent menaces of Government will begin to

speak in a tone such as no man can misunderstand.

V. _Patronage_.--Has that great instrument of government been abused by

Sir Robert Peel in the management of Ireland? This question might have

arranged itself under either of the two first heads; but we choose to

bring it forward in an insulated form. For we believe that no

administration of any day has ever made the avowal, or had it in their

power to make the avowal, which Sir Robert Peel made to the House of

Commons in the speech we are now reviewing. He read two separate

extracts from his own official instructions to Lord De Grey, which

actually announced his resolution (unfettered by the slightest reserve)

to renounce the entire church patronage of Ireland as an instrument of

administration. The Lord-Lieutenant was authorized to dispense this

patronage with one solitary view to merit, professional merit, and the

highest interests of Ireland. So noble an act as this, and one so

unprecedented in its nobility, needs no praise of ours. It speaks for

itself. And it would be injurious to spend words in emblazonry of _that_

which, by a spontaneous movement, _both_ sides of the House received

with volleying cheers. That kind of applause is as rare and as

significant as the act itself.

VI. and VII. Finally, however, all other questions connected with this

great crisis, sink in importance by the side of the one great interest

at stake upon the Union--is _that_ to be maintained? And, as the Union

could not possibly survive the destruction of the Protestant

Establishment, is _that_ to be protected? Are we to receive, at the

hands of traitors, a new model for our glorious empire? and, without

condescending to pause for one instant in discussing consequences, are

we to drink of this cup of indignity--that the constitution and

settlement of our state, which one hundred and fifty five years ago

required the deliberations of two ancient nations, England and Scotland,

collected in their representatives, to effect, now at this day are to be

put into the furnace anew by obscure conspirators, and traitors long

since due to the gallows. Say not, with Sir James Graham, "that this

all-conquering England would perish by the consequences." If that were

endured, already she _has_ perished: and the glory of Israel has

departed. The mere possibility that, by a knot of conspirators, our arch

of empire could be dismembered, that by a bare shout of treason it could

be thrown down for ever like the battlements of Jericho at the blast of

trumpets, would proclaim, as in that Judean tragedy, that we stood

under a curse of wrath divine. The dismemberment itself would be less

fatal than the ignominy of its mode. Better to court the hostility of

foreign nations, better to lay open our realms to a free movement of

that wrath against us which is so deeply founded in their envy, than to

perish by the hands of poltroons, of thieves, of conspirators. But this

fate is not ours. Many times our Government have repeated that

assurance. But, as in the expressions of our affection to the Sovereign,

this assurance is rightly renewed from time to time, and occasions are

sought for renewing it, let the ministers be assured--that, on this

point, we are all sound at heart. All of us are with them from shore to

shore. In this island there will be no faltering. It is shocking,

undoubtedly: it is awful, and _at such a moment_, to hear three lords of

old official standing--Lords Palmerston, Howick, and John Russell,

taking occasion to propound ridiculous and senseless modifications of a

plan essentially rebellious, the plan of partial confiscation, or of

partial degradation, for the Protestant Church. Patience hardly can keep

pace with the deliberate consideration of the contradictions which would

follow--whether from tampering with the Church, or with the political

settlement of our nations. Sir R. Peel has traced both. From the one

case _must_ follow an independent army, for Ireland an independent

government, an independent war as often as the popular will should speak

loudly. From a participation of Protestant property, or Protestant

dignities with the Roman Catholics, would follow instantly the transfer

of Protestant churches, already few enough, the translation of Popish

priests (that is, of selected traitors) to our senate. The very hint is

a monument to the disgrace of these noble lords; fatal to all pretences

of _earnest_ patriotism; but still in _them_ accounted for, and perhaps

a little palliated, by the known necessities of party. As respects the

_general_ mind, there is no such imbecility abroad; no such disposition

to traffic or go halves, temporize or capitulate with treason. One only

error is prevalent: it has been noticed by Sir R. Peel, who indeed

overlooked nothing; but it may be well to put the refutation into

another form. The caballing for dissolution of the Union, why should

that be treasonable? Is the Act of Union more than an Act of Parliament?

Is not every act of Parliament open to objection, petition, annulment?

No. It is dismemberment, says Sir Robert Peel, of the state. We add

this--How, and in virtue of what law, does the house of Brunswick reign?

By the Act of Settlement--an act of Parliament--an act about a hundred

and fifty years old. That is but an act of Parliament. Is it open, then,

to any of us, or all of us, to call a meeting for rescinding the Act of

Settlement? But all will now advance to a rapid consummation; Mr

O'Connell pursues only his old movement--then he is lost by the decay of

the enthusiasm. He adopts a new one--that which he has obscurely

announced. Then we are as sure as we are of day and night, of _his_

treason, as of British power to crush it, that the suspended

thunderbolt, now raised aloft by the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert

Peel, will put an end to him for ever.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote N: We use the words of the Chancellor; words, therefore,

technically legal, in the debate of July, on Lord Clanricarde's motion

for a vote of censure upon Sir E. Sugden.]

[Footnote O: A more striking neglect is chargeable upon _some_

administration in suffering the Repealers quietly to receive military

training. We no more understand how this seditious act could have been

overlooked at the time, than we understand the process by which modest

assemblies of Orangemen have come to be viewed as illegal, pending a

state of law, which, upon the whole, justifies the much larger

assemblies of "foul conspirators."]

[Footnote P: People in Ireland, under various heads, as officers of the

different services, &c., pay, but not in quality of Irishmen, when by

accident they are such.]