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distinguished himself, by truly useful political labours, above most of those who were content to be numbered as his imitators and admirers. It was in "riding the whirlwind and directing the storm" of Irish agitation that he was alone supreme; and divested of his prerogatives in that character, he would become comparatively unimportant.

But the game which he played was a hazardous one, and involved consequences for which he was not prepared. Whatever may be thought of his own honesty or sincerity in following the phantom of repeal, there was a growing number, by whom it was pursued with a passionate devotedness, and whom no cajolery could blind or baffle, in the intensity of their desire for its attainment.

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had begun to see very clearly the danger of pushing agitation to extremes, just as they had become convinced that by bolder movements they must be successful. He became fully impressed with the tremendous responsibility which he would incur, if he plunged the country into civil war ; while over them hallucinations were predominant, which led them to regard such a contingency as the harbinger of Ireland's disenthralment; and it soon became manifest that there were irreconcilable differences between the Old and the Young Irelanders, and that the one were ready to brave all consequences in a reckless daring for their country's rights; while the other, after ancient Pistol's fashion, talked, indeed, " very brave words," but took, at the same time, very good care "to let I dare not' wait upon 'I would,'" like the old cat in the adage.

Thus, the very turbulence and insubordination by which the agitator had bullied and terrified successive governments, were now turned against himself. The Young Irelanders now became his "difficulty." He had nourished and brought up children, whose countenances reflected the very features of their parent, and they rebelled against him. Not only did they urge him to bolder measures, and threaten revolt, if their demands were not complied with, but they were perpetually making inconvenient allusions to matters of account, and demanding a full and satisfactory explanation of the expenditure of the vast sums which had been raised for repeal purposes, by the enthusiasm of the people. This was "the unkindest cut of all." It struck the dictator in the tenderest part, and clearly proved to him that his supremacy was no longer undisputed. We will not say that he sank under the blow; but his warmest partisans ascribed to the annoyances thus experienced from the impracticable pertinacity of the Young Irelanders, the rapid increase of the maladies which hurried the old man to his grave.

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But the evils that he caused have not been buried with him. Too long was he suffered to make a sport of the laws; too long was he suffered to trade upon agitation. He found those very acts and principles a passport to power and influence, which in former and better times would have led to another species of exaltation. waged, for nearly half a century, a guerilla warfare against the institutions of the country. At first he was neglected, because he was despised; and, finally, he was tolerated, if not encouraged, because he was feared, if not respected. A Conservative government made the fatal mistake, of admitting him and his faction to power, upon grounds of intimidation and alarm; and a Whig government soon found that they could not stand without him. The Litchfield House compact was the consequence, by which Ireland was given over to his tender mercies; and the anomalous and portentous spectacle was presented, of a British administration, controlled and manacled by an agi tator who had excited the masses in Ireland to the verge of treason. Offences for which former dema

gogues paid the penalty of exile, or forfeited their lives, he found sources of personal emolument, and political consideration; and had the Young Irelanders been only quiescent under his rule, there is no amount of mischief which he would not have finally accomplished, until, by obtaining concession after concession of constitutional principle and Protestant strength, he had succeeded in effecting the dismemberment of the empire.

Of the mistakes and oversights thus made, we are now reaping the bitter fruits. The dragon's teeth were then sown, which have since sprung up into armed men. When turbulence was made the arbiter of order, it is not surprising that "confusion worse confounded," should be produced. Former demagogues had to wrestle with the law; here the laws were placed in abeyance to the popular disturber, and the Arch Agitator himself was enabled "to bestride our narrow world, like a colossus," "while we, little men," were compelled "to peep about, and find ourselves dishonourable graves."

When, at length, treason had reached a height beyond which endurance was impossible, the mode of dealing with it was almost as reprehensible as the previous neglect by which it had been rendered so alarming. The monster meetings, which never should have been suffered to assemble, were attacked by a monster indictment, which was almost as unwieldly in the hands of the law officers, as the danger which it was intended to avert was tremendous. The case required a supersession of the ordinary clemency of the laws. A power of intimidation had been suffered to prevail, which rendered it in a high degree improbable, that they could be wisely or fearlessly administered. Such, and so open, was the seditious violence of the disaffected, that the principal difficulty of the law officers was to know whether what they were about to prosecute as sedition, should not be prosecuted as treason-and, had the bolder course been taken, it would have been justified by the result, and agitation, in the person of Mr. O'Connell, would have received a blow from which it could not have speedily recovered. As the case was managed, contrary to all probability, a verdict was obtained; but

no moral result was produced; and the demagogues exulted in their defeat, as in a victory. The following extract is exceedingly instructive, and clearly shews how Mr. O'Connell felt both before and after this abortive prosecution;-how seriously he was affected when he apprehended (as well he might) that the charge against him would be made a capital felony; and how lightly he regarded it as soon as he found that he was to be indicted only for a seditious conspiracy.

"On the following day, the 12th of October, a report was spread that the Government would prosecute upon a charge of high treason. O'Connell's spirits, which had previously been excellent, seemed suddenly and greatly depressed by this information. He knew that the Government would not risk a prosecution for high treason without first being thoroughly certain of the jury. It was true, he said, that he should have the privilege of challenging the jury, a privilege which in a mere prosecution for sedition he would not possess; but the materials from which Dublin panels were taken were so leavened with bigoted orangeism, that he looked on his life as the certain forfeit.'But', said he, I scarcely think they will attempt a prosecution for high treason-though, indeed, there is hardly any thing too desperate for them to attempt! If they do, I shall make my confession, and prepare for death. Such a step would either immensely accelerate Repeal, or else throw it further back than ever.'

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"But the real nature of the prosecution was speedily made known to the traversers. When O'Connell heard that he and his fellow-patriots were to be tried for a conspiracy,' he scoffed at the whole proceedings, as likely, indeed, to be harassing and tedious, but in no other respect formidable. One day he said to John O'Connell, I do not think two years' imprisonment would kill me; I should keep constantly walking about, and take a bath every day.'

"But why talk of imprisonment at all?' returned John; surely there is, please God, no danger of it.'

"I take the most discouraging view of the case,' said his father in order to be prepared for the worst.'"

The prosecution ended in his committal to Richmond Penitentiary, for a period of three months, when the decision of the House of Lords, by which the verdict against him was set

aside, procured his enlargement; which took place in grand procession, and with every circumstance which could mark his triumph over the government. Numerous were now the accessions to repeal. Demonstration after demonstration took place, which marked the progress which it was mak ing in the public mind. Many believed, that by no stretch of power, could the career of the demagogue now be arrested; and when, in almost regal state, he took his place in the Rotundo, to receive the declarations and addresses of the deputations who came from various parts of the country, to tender to him their congratulation and confidence-we had almost said their homage and allegiancethe scene was one of the most imposing that could be imagined, and might well be called the very apotheosis of agitation.

It was while he was in prison that poor Smith O'Brien declared himself an out-and-out repealer. The delight of the imprisoned Agitator at this accession, was quite unbounded.

"On being visited by Smith O'Brien (who had joined the Repealers at the commencement of the prosecutions), he took him by both hands, saying, 'I think it was Providence that raised you up to us in our need; I look on your adhesion as indicative of what Providence will yet do for us.'

"Mr. O'Brien's junction at this crisis was of very great value to the Repeal cause. O'Connell said that 'he did the best thing at the best time.'"

Alas, poor man! what does he himself now think of the course upon which he then adventured? We shall not hazard a conjecture. May God give him the grace of repentance, and render him a fitting subject for a degree of clemency for which, if he be not indeed demented, and be guilty of the high crime for which he stands committed, he can have very little claim!

But he only attempted to carry out into act, the lessons which he learned from precept and example. As to the moral force theory, he, as well as every other man who was not positively a simpleton, knew that it was a great moral humbug-a masque, behind which the batteries of treason were to be erected, and concealed

carefully, until the time came, when they might be opened with effect upon hated enemies. Meanwhile money was to be gathered in-measure after measure was to be extorted from government, by which, the loyal and peaceable portion of the community were to be discouraged, and the seditious increased and strengthened; an or ganisation was to be perfected, by which a unity of action would be given to the masses-by which their powers of mischief would be prodi. giously augmented; and then, let any accident, such as foreign war, internal distraction, financial derangement, or commercial distress,embarrass England, and it would soon be seen how rapidly the moral would develop into physical force; how soon petition and remon strance would be superseded by the musket and the pike: and how rapidly the barricades would be formed, and the forces arrayed; who would attempt, at least, by strife of arms, and at the cannon's mouth, to win, what they would call "Justice for Ire land."

At present, the evil has been ar rested. The outbreak of rebellion, which was premature, and therefore feeble, has, for the present, been suppressed; but let no one suppose that the danger is overpassed. Of many parts of Ulster, and of most parts of Munster and of Connaught, it may, with perfect truth, be said,

"Incedis per ignes, suppositos cineri doloso."

How long is this state of things to last? The government have now the power of putting down treason and sedition with a high hand; and if they neglect to avail themselves of their opportu nity, or, by mistaken measures, show that they do not know the quarter in which the danger chiefly lies, not only will present dangers be greatly aug mented, but unborn ages may have to deplore their folly or their infatuation.

We wish not to give utterance to a single sentence by which the cases of the unhappy men who are still to be tried for their offences, might be prejudged. But of the measures which should follow their acquital or convic tion, if the Union is to be preservedthat is, if the empire is not to be dismembered we may, briefly, be per mitted to put on record our deliberate convictions.

All agitation for a Repeal of the Union should be made highly penal. We say not how this should be done : that, it is the province of the legal functionaries to determine. But stringent measures should be taken to guarantee the inviolability of the Act of Legislative Union; and any agitation which contemplated its dissolution should be regarded with the same vindictive sternness as would be exhibited towards those who sought, by force or fraud, the overthrow of the monarchy, or the deposition of the queen.

This, it will be said, would be a strong measure. Granted. But is it or is it not, one which the case requires? Will any lesser measure be sufficient to take the country out of the chronic agitation by which it is periodically convulsed; and to make a preparation for those healing processes by which it might be rendered peaceful and prosperous, contented and happy in itself, and a blessing, instead of a curse, to the empire? Is there any other mode by which it is possible to provide against the severance of Great Britain and Ireland?

We will not here stop to argue with the babblers, who contemplate Repeal as a final measure, by which the union of the countries would be consolidated, while the union of the legislatures would be divided. If he be not an idiot or a driveller who entertains such a chimera, he must be worse. Is it entertained by any of her majesty's ministers? Is it entertained by any one of the least personal consideration in either houses of parliament ? Do they not know that a divided legislature must soon lead to a divided empire? Do they not know

that if Ireland were severed from the British crown, England herself would be undone? Did not the unhappy man, Mitchel, who has been expatriated, under the recent felony act, for his offences, declare that his mission, as he called it, was not so much a Repeal of the Union, and a separation of the countries, as the destruction of the British empire? These were the words of a monomaniac, and for which he has already paid the penalty. Granted. But a monomaniac may sometimes speak God's truth; and he was wiser, in that respect, than our rulers, if they suppose that Repeal, if accomplished, would not lead to separation, and that separation would not place in most perilous jeopardy every interest and every possession of the British crown.

A word or two we had intended to say respecting the Protestant repealers. But we will suppose that they have been already sufficiently admonished by the signs of the times. It is not, surely, a season when they should associate themselves with the seditious, in demanding organic changes. For some of them we entertain great respect; and feel persuaded that they are qualified to work out, in many particulars, much good for their country.

But

we trust their own good sense, aided by reflection upon recent events, both at home and abroad, will yet, if it have not done so already, inform them that the course upon which they have adventured is both dangerous and impracticable, and so far from being the forerunner of prosperity, would but lead to distraction and anarchy, in Ireland.

THE PICTURE.

You bid me frame for you in fancy-work,
Ideal loveliness of mind and form,
Such as a Poet, some ambrosial hour,
Might draw upon the canvas of his heart,
Taking a living model, and thereto
Adding and rounding, chisel-like of pen.
-Well, boots it not to say if dream divine
Haunted the winding galleries of my thought;
Or truth put down, point-blank, adornmentless,
Like fancy seem, because so like the truth;
I cannot tell you-look, and you shall say;
-There is a beauty, startling as the gush
Of sudden sunlight on an inland sea,

Girt round with many hills, that shines at once
Bright to the eye, electric to the heart;
There is a timorous beauty, as a bud's,
Among the full-blown roses manifold.
Not such is hers: 'tis rather like the light,
The pale and tender light of summer eve-
Not golden and not amber-not of night,
Far less of day; rose melting into pearl,
Ivory just tinged between the sun and stars.
Not such is hers: the white moss-rose, I think,
Were less dissimilar; for she takes the heart
More as of right than does your good-girl bud,
Not quite by storm, like the inviting red
On the ripe charms that bend the heavy stalk,
But with a half-way course betwixt the twain.
And you may miss the light; you may not mark
That gentle blossom mine, its own green leaves
Do so enwrap it and its moss enswathe.
But see the light I speak of, and broad day
Will make you long for eventide again;
And the moon's delicate tracery woofed across
White sails of vapour boats will have no charm.
But cast your eye upon my white moss-rose,
And ne'er a queenly bloom or peasant bud
Shall be her peer within comparison.

There are who take you with a storm of words,
Of sport or sentiment; and to and fro

Bandy your laughter or some heavier thing.
There are who open all the heart at once,

Light found, light lost-'tis scarcely worth one's while
To ask what's given with so liberal grace.
There are who fence them in with many thorns
Of giggling shyness: when your finger's pricked
You find you've scrambled for a foolish thing
Not worth your silly wearing when it's won,
Not such is she: she has no storm of words,
Pelting like hail-drops till you hide your face;
No bread-and-butter sentiment has she
For a fourth cup of gossip round the urn-
But she is outward cold and calm of eye,

Pale-browed, low-voiced, and round her as she moves
There is an atmosphere of gracefulness,

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