Chapter XIV: Part VII (2)

The letter then turned to my own circumstances, and entered into them with the singular mixture of ardour and sneering which formed this extraordinary character.

"I am doing your business here as indefatigably as if I were
robbing nabobs in India, or setting up republics at home. The
tardiness of the Horse-Guards is to be moved by nothing but an
invasion; and it would be almost as rational to wait the
growth of an oak, as to wait the signing of your commission;
but it shall be done in my own way. I have means which can
make the tardy quick, and open the eyes of the blind. You
_shall_ be a subaltern in the Guards, unless you are in too
much haste to be a general, and get yourself shot by some
Parisian cobbler in the purloined uniform of a rifleman. But,
let me tell you one fact, and I might indorse this piece of
intelligence, 'Secret and Confidential,' to the English
cabinet, for even our great minister has yet to learn it--_the
Allies will never reach Paris_. Rely, and _act_ upon this.
They might now enter the capital, if, instead of bayonets,
they carried only trusses of straw. The road is open before
them, but they will look only behind. The war was almost a
feint from the beginning. The invasion was the second act of
the farce--the retreat will be the third. Poland has been the
_true object_; and, to cover the substantial seizures there,
has been the trick of the French invasion. I predict that, in
one month from the date of this letter, there will not be an
Austrian or Prussian cartridge found in France. Potsdam and
Schoenbrunn know more on the subject at this moment than the
duke. I write to you as a friend, and by Mariamne's especial
order, to take care of yourself. I have seen the retreats of
continental armies in my time; they are always a scene of
horrors. Follow the army so long as it advances; then all is
well, and even the experience of service may be of use to you.
But, in this instance, the moment that you find it come to a
stop, turn your horse's head to any point of the compass but
the front, and ride to the nearest seaport. The duke is a
brave man, and his army is a brave army; but both will be
instantly covered with all the obloquy of all the libelers on
earth. If you have met him as man with man, you have doubtless
been captivated with his manners, his wit, his animation, and
his accomplishments. I have known him long and well. But
Europe, within a month, will decry him, as a fugitive, a fool,
and a dastard. Such is popular wisdom, justice, and knowledge.
A pupil of the first warrior of Prussia and of modern ages,
and wanting only experience to do honour to the lessons of
Frederick, he will be laughed at by the loose loungers of the
Palais Royal, as ignorant of the art of war, and branded by
the graver loungers of courts and councils, as ignorant of the
art of government. Once more, I say, take care of yourself.
The first step in retreat will raise all France against the
Allies. Ten victories would not cost as much as the first
week's march towards the frontier. Every thicket will have its
troop; every finger, for a hundred leagues round, will be on
the trigger. Robbery and murder, famine and fatigue; disease
and death, will be upon the troops; the retreat will become a
flight, and happy is the man who will ever see the Rhine
again. Be wise in time."

Enclosed within this long epistle was a brief note from Mariamne.

"You must not think me dying, because I importune you no
longer. But, _can_ you give me any tidings of Lafontaine? I
know that he is rash, and even enthusiastic; but I equally
know that he is faithful and true. _Yet_, if he _has_
forgotten me, or is married, or is any thing that, as a preux
chevalier, he ought not to be, tell me at once, and you shall
see how grateful I can be, before I cease to be any thing. But
if he has fallen--if, in the dreadful scenes now acting in
Paris, Lafontaine is no more--_tell me not_. Write some
deluding thing to me--conceal your terrible knowledge. I
should not wish to drop down dead before my father's face. He
is looking at me while I write this, and I am trying to laugh,
with a heart as heavy as lead, and eyes that can scarcely see
the paper. No--for mercy's sake, do not tell me _that he is
dead_. Give me gentle words, give me hope, deceive me--as they
give laudanum, not to prolong life, but to lull agony. Do
this, and with my last pulse I shall be grateful--with my last
breath I shall bless you."

Poor Mariamne! I had, at least, better hopes than those for her. But within this billet was a third. It was but a few lines; yet at the foot of those lines was the signature--"Clotilde de Tourville." The light almost forsook my eyes; my head swam; if the paper had been a talisman, and every letter written with the pen of magic, it could not have produced a more powerful effect upon me. My hands trembled, and my ears thrilled; and yet it contained but a few unimportant words--an enquiry addressed to Mariamne, whether she could forward a letter to the Chateau Montauban in Champagne, or whether her father had any correspondent in the vicinity who could send her the picture of a beloved relative, which, in the haste of their flight to England, they had most reluctantly left behind.

The note at once threw every thing else into the background. What were invasions and armies--what were kings and kingdoms--to the slightest wish of the being who had written this billet? All this I admit to be the fever of the mind--a waking dream--an illusion to which mesmerism or magic is but a frivolity. Like all fevers, it is destined to pass away, or to kill the patient; yet for the time, what on earth is so strange, or so powerful--so dangerous to the reason--so delicious to the soul!

But, after the long reverie into which I sank, with the writing of Clotilde in my hand, I recollected that fortune had for once given me the power of meeting the wishes of this noble and beautiful creature. The resemblance of the picture that had so much perplexed and attracted me, was now explained. I _was_ in the Chateau de Montauban, and I now blessed the chance which had sent me to its honoured walls.

To hasten to the chamber where I was again to look upon the exquisite resemblance of features which, till then, I had thought without a similar in the world, was a matter of instinct; and, winding my way through the intricacies of galleries and corridors, loaded with the baggage of the emigrant army, and strewed with many a gallant noble who had exchanged the down bed of his ancestral mansion for the bare floor, or the open bivouac, I at length reached the apartment to which the captive general had been consigned. To my utter astonishment, instead of the silence which I expected under the circumstances, I heard the jingling of glasses and roars of laughter. Was this the abode of solitude and misfortune? I entered, and found M. Lafayette, indeed, conducting himself with the composure of a personage of his rank; but the other performers exhibiting a totally different temperament. A group of Polish officers, who had formerly borne commissions in the royal service, and now followed the Emigrant troops, had recognized Lafayette, and insisted on paying due honours to the "noble comrade" with whom they had served beyond the Atlantic. Hamlet's menace to his friend, that he would "teach him to drink deep ere he depart," had been adopted in the amplest sense by those jovial sons of the north, and "healths bottle-deep" were sent round the board with rapid circulation.

My entrance but slightly deranged the symposium, and I was soon furnished with all the freemasonry of the feast, by being called on to do honour to the toast of "His Majesty the King of Great Britain." My duty was now done, my initiation was complete, and while my eyes were fixed on the portrait which, still in its unharmed beauty, looked beaming on the wild revel below, I heard, in the broken queries, and interjectional panegyrics of these hyperborean heroes, more of the history of Lafayette than I had ever expected to reach my ears.

His life had been the strangest contrast to the calm countenance which I saw so tranquilly listen to its own tale. It was Quixotic, and two hundred years ago could scarcely have escaped the pen of some French Cervantes. He had begun life as an officer in the French household troops in absolute boyhood. At sixteen he had married! at eighteen he had formed his political principles, and begun his military career by crossing the Atlantic, and offering his sword to the Republic. To meet the thousand wonderings at his conduct, he exchanged the ancient motto of the Lafayettes for a new one of his own. The words, "Why not?" were his answer to all, and they were sufficient. On reaching America, he asked but two favours, to be suffered to serve, and to serve without pay.

In America he was more republican than the Republicans. He toiled, traveled, and bled, with an indefatigable zeal for the independence of the colonists; his zeal was a passion, his love of liberty a romance, his hostility to the dominion of England an universal scorn of established power. But if fantastic, he was bold; and if too hot for the frigidity of America, he was but preparing to touch France with kindred fire. He refused rank in the French army coupled with the condition of leaving the service of the Republic; and it was only on the French alliance in 1788 that he returned to Paris, to be received with feigned displeasure by the King, and even put under arrest by the minister, but to be welcomed by the praises of the true sovereign, the Queen, feted by the court, the sovereign of that sovereign, and huzzaed by the mob of Paris, already the sovereign of them all; from his military prison he emerged, colonel of the King's regiment of dragoons.

While this narrative was going on, mingled with bumpers, and bursts of Slavonic good-fellowship, I could not help asking myself whether Lavater was not quack and physiognomy a folly? Could this be the dashing Revolutionist? No plodder over the desk ever wore a more broadcloth countenance; an occasional smile was the only indication of his interest in what was passing around him. He evidently avoided taking a share in the discussion of his Transatlantic career, probably from delicacy to his English auditor. But when the conversation turned upon France, the man came forth, and he vindicated his conduct with a spirit and fulness that told me what he might have been when the blood of youth was added to the glow of the imagination. He was now evidently exhausted by toil, and dispirited by disappointment. No man could be more thoroughly ruined; baffled in theory, undone in practice--an exile from his country, a fugitive from his troops--overwhelmed by the hopelessness of giving a constitution to France, and with nothing but the dungeon before him, and the crash of the guillotine behind.

"What was to be done?" said Lafayette. "France was bankrupt--the treasury was empty--the profligate reign of Louis XV. had at once wasted the wealth, dried up the revenues, and corrupted the energies of France. Ministers wrung their hands, the king sent for his confessor, the queen wept--but the nation groaned. There was but one expedient, to call on the people. In 1787 the Assembly of the Notables was summoned. It was the first time since the reign of Henry IV. France had been a direct and formal despotism for almost two hundred years. She had seen England spread from an island into an empire; she had seen America spread from a colony into an empire. What had been the worker of the miracle?--Liberty. While all the despotisms remained within the boundaries fixed centuries ago, like vast dungeons, never extending, and never opening to the light and air, except through the dilapidations of time, I saw England and America expanding like fertile fields, open to every breath of heaven and every beam of day, expanding from year to year by the cheerful labour of man, and every year covered with new productiveness for the use of universal mankind. I own that there may have been rashness in urging the great experiment--there may have been a dangerous disregard of the actual circumstances of the people, the time, and the world--the daring hand of the philosopher may have drawn down the lightning too suddenly to be safe; the patriot may have flashed the blaze of his torch too strongly on eyes so long trained to the twilight of the dungeon. The leader of this enterprise himself, like the first discoverer of fire, may have brought wrath upon his own head, and be condemned to have his vitals gnawed in loneliness and chains; but nothing shall convince Lafayette that a great work has not been begun for the living race, for all nations, and for all posterity."

I could not suppress the question--"But when will the experiment be complete? When will the tree, planted thus in storms, take hold of the soil? When will the tremendous tillage which begins by clearing with the conflagration, and ploughing with the earthquake, bring forth the harvest of peace to the people?"

"These must be the legacy to our children," was the reply, in a grave and almost contrite tone. "The works of man are rapid only when they are meant for decay. The American savage builds his wigwam in a week, to last for a year. The Parthenon took half an age and the treasures of a people, to last for ever."

We parted for the night--and for thirty years. My impression of this remarkable man was, that he had more heart than head; that a single idea had engrossed his faculties, to the exclusion of all others; that he was following a phantom, with the belief that it was a substantial form, and that, like the idolaters of old, who offered their children to their frowning deity, he imagined that the costlier the sacrifice, the surer it was of propitiation. Few men have been more misunderstood in his own day or in ours. Lifted to the skies for an hour by popular adulation, he has been sunk into obscurity ever since by historic contempt. Both were mistaken. He was the man made for the time--precisely the middle term between the reign of the nobility and the reign of the populace. Certainly not the man to "ride on the whirlwind and direct the storm;" but as certainly altogether superior to the indolent luxury of the class among whom he was born. Glory and liberty, the two highest impulses of our common nature, sent him at two and twenty from the most splendid court of Europe, to the swamps and snows, the desperate service and dubious battles of America. Eight years of voyages, negotiations, travels, and exposure to the chances of the field, proved his energy, and at the age of thirty he had drawn upon himself the eyes of the world. Here he ought to have rested, or have died. But the Revolution swept him off his feet. It was an untried region--a conflict of elements unknown to the calculation of man; he was whirled along by a force which whirled the monarchy, the church, and the nation with him, and sank only when France plunged after him.

I have no honour for a similar career, and no homage for a similar memory; but it is from those mingled characters that history derives her deepest lesson, her warnings for the weak, her cautions for the ambitious, and her wisdom for the wise.

On the retiring of the party for the night, my first act was to summon the old Swiss and his wife who had been left in charge of the mansion, and collect from them all their feeble memories could tell Clotilde. But Madame la Maréchale was a much more important personage in their old eyes, than the "charmante enfant" whom they had dandled on their knees, and who was likely to remain a "charmante enfant" to them during their lives. The chateau had been the retreat of the Maréchale after the death of her husband; and it was in its stately solitudes, and in the woods and wilds which surrounded it for many a league, that Clotilde had acquired those accomplished tastes, and that characteristic dignity and force of mind, which distinguished her from the frivolity of her country-women, however elegant and attractive, who had been trained in the _salons_ of the court. The green glades and fresh air of the forest had given beauty to her cheek and grace to her form; and scarcely conceiving how the rouged and jewelled Maréchale could have endured such an absence from the circles of the young queen, and the "_beaux restes_" of the wits and beauties of the court of Louis the 15th, I thanked in soul the fortunate necessity which had driven her from the atmosphere of the Du Barris to the shades thus sacred to innocence and knowledge.

But the grand business of the thing was still to be done. The picture was taken down at last, to the great sorrow of the old servants, who seemed to regard it as a patron saint, and who declared that its presence, and its presence alone, could have saved the mansion, in the first instance, from being burned by the "patriots," who generally began their reforms of the nobility by laying their chateaux in ashes, and in the next, from being plundered by the multitudes of whiskered savages speaking unknown tongues, and came to leave France without "_ni pain ni vin_" for her legitimate sons. But the will of Madame la Maréchale was to them as the laws of the Medes and Persians, irresistible and unchangeable; and with heavy hearts they dismounted the portrait, and assisted in enfolding and encasing it, with much the same feeling that might have been shown in paying the last honours to a rightful branch of the beloved line.

But, in the wall which the picture had covered, I found a small recess, closed by an iron door, and evidently unknown to the Swiss and his old wife. I might have hesitated about extending my enquiry further, but Time, the great discoverer of all things, saved my conscience: with a slight pressure against the lock it gave way; the door flew open, and dropped off the hinges, a mass of rust and decay. Within was a casket of a larger size than that generally used for jewels; but my curiosity durst not go beyond the superscription, which was a consignment of the casket, in the name of the Maréchale, to her banker in London. Whatever might be the contents, it was clear that, like the picture, it had been left behind in the hurry of flight, and that to transmit it to England was fairly within my commission. Before our busy work was done, day was glancing in through the coloured panes of the fine old chamber. I hurried off the Swiss, with my precious possessions, to the next town, in one of the baggage carts, with a trooper in front to prevent his search by hands still more hazardous than those of a custom-house officer; and then, mounting my horse, and bidding a brief farewell to the brave and noble fellows who were already mustering for the march, and envying me with all their souls, I set off at full speed to rejoin the army.

With all my speed, the action had begun for some hours before I came in sight of the field. With what pangs of heart I heard the roar of the cannon, for league on league, while I was threading my bewildered way, and spurring my tired horse through the miry paths of a country alternately marsh and forest; with what pantings I looked from every successive height, to see even to what quarter the smoke of the firing might direct me; with what eager vexation I questioned every hurrying peasant, who either shook his moody head and refused to answer, or who answered with the fright of one who expected to have his head swept off his shoulders by some of my fierce-looking troop, I shall not now venture to tell; but it was as genuine a torture as could be felt by man. At length, exhausted by mortal fatigue, and ready to lie down and die, I made a last effort, would listen no more to the remonstrances of the troop, whose horses were sinking under them. I ordered them to halt where they were, pushed on alone, and, winding my way through a forest covering the side of a low but abrupt hill, or rather succession of hills, I suddenly burst out into the light, and saw the whole battle beneath, around, and before me. It was magnificent.

* * * * *

LETTER FROM LEMUEL GULLIVER.

TO THE EDITOR.

Sir--At the request of my four-footed friends, I forward to you a free translation of the proceedings of a meeting of Houynhyms, recently held for the protection of their interests in corn. As the language appears more temperate, and the propositions quite as rational, as those which are ordinarily brought forward in the other Corn-law meetings which still continue to agitate the county, I have no difficulty in complying with their wishes; and if you can afford space for the insertion of the report in your valuable Magazine, you will greatly oblige the Houynhym race, and confer a favour upon, sir, your obedient servant,

LEMUEL GULLIVER.

_Stable-Yard, Nov. 10th, 1843._

* * * * *

ADVERTISEMENT.

A meeting of delegates from the different classes of consumers of oats was held on Friday last, at the Nag's Head in the Borough, pursuant to public advertisement in the _Hors-Lham Gazette_. The object of the meeting was to take into consideration the present consumption of the article, and to devise means for its increase. The celebrated horse Comrade, of Drury-Lane Theatre, presided on the occasion.

The business of the meeting was opened by a young Racer of great promise, who said it was his anxious desire to protect the interests of the horse community, and to promote any measure which might contribute to the increase of the consumption of oats, and improve the condition of his fellow-quadrupeds. He was not versed in political economy, nor, indeed, economy of any kind. He had heard much of demand and supply, and the difficulty of regulating them properly; but, for his own part, he found the latter always equalled the former, though he understood such was not the case with his less fortunate brethren. He warmly advocated the practice of sowing wild oats, and considered that much of the decrease of consumption complained of arose from the undue encouragement given to the growth of other grain; and that the horse interest would be best promoted by imposing a maximum as to the growth of wheat and barley, according to the acreage of each particular farm.

A HACKNEY-COACH HORSE declared himself in favour of the sliding-scale, which he understood from Sir Peter Lawrie to mean the wooden pavement. He admitted it was not well adapted for rainy seasons, but it was impossible to doubt that things went much more smoothly wherever it was established; and that he, and the working classes whom he represented, found in it a considerable relief from the heavy duties daily imposed upon them. He wished that some measure could be devised for superseding the use of nosebags, which he designated as an intolerable nuisance, especially during the summer months; but he principally relied for an improvement in condition on the prohibition of the mixture of chaff with oats; which latter article, he contended, was unfit for the use of able-bodied horses, who earned their daily food, and ought to be limited to those cattle who spent an idle existence in straw-yards.

A BRIGHT CHESTNUT HORSE, of great power, and well-known in the parks, warmly replied to the last neigher. He denounced the sliding-scale as a slippery measure, unworthy of a horse of spirit, and adding greatly to the burdens with which horses like himself were saddled. He daily saw steeds of the noblest blood and most undaunted action humbled to the dust by its operation; and if Sir Peter Lawrie was to be believed, it was more dreaded by the household troops than Napoleon's army on the field of Waterloo. He yielded to no horse in an anxious desire to promote the true interests of the horse community; but he could not give his support to measures so unsafe, merely because they enabled a small and inferior section of their community to move more smoothly. He reprobated, in strong terms, the unfeeling allusion of the last neigher to the unfortunate inmates of union straw-yards, whom, for his own part, he looked upon as nowise inferior to the hackney-coach horse himself, of whose right to be present at a meeting of consumers of oats he entertained serious doubts. (Loud neighs of "Order! Order!")

A SCOTCH HORSE feared that, strictly speaking, he was included in the same category with the hackney-coach horse, and had no right to be heard, having no personal interest in the question; but he trusted he might be permitted to speak as the delegate of the horses of Scotland, who were ignorant of the Houynhym language, and not entitled to attend. Permission being granted, to the surprise of the assembly he descanted with much asperity upon the gross oppression to which horses in Scotland were subject, as their rough coats and ragged appearance plainly manifested; and stated, in conclusion, that no hope or expectation of bettering the condition of the Scotch horse could be entertained until their lawful food was restored to them, and Scotchmen were compelled, by act of Parliament, to abstain from the use of oatmeal, and live like the rest of the civilized world.

Several worn-out horses belonging to members of the Whig administration then endeavoured to address the meeting, with an evident intention of converting the proceedings into a party question; but they were informed by the president, in the midst of loud snorting and neighing, that they had not the slightest right to be present, as they were all undoubtedly turned out for life. This decision appeared to give universal satisfaction.

AN IRISH HORSE was of opinion that the great cause of the present difficulties arose from deficiency in the quality and not the quantity of the article, and strongly recommended the growth of Irish oats in England. To the surprise of the English delegates, he warmly eulogized the superiority of the Irish oat; but it afterwards appeared, upon the production of a sample, that he had mistaken the potatoe oat for the Irish oat.

AN OLD ENGLISH HUNTER next addressed the meeting, and was listened to with deep attention. He impressed upon the young delegates the good old adage of "Look before you leap," and cautioned them against the delusive hope that their condition would be improved by change of measures. In the course of his long life he had experienced measures of every description, and had invariably found that his supplies depended, not on the measure itself; but on the hand that filled it. He had ever given his willing support to his employers, and served them faithfully; and if they were as well acquainted as quadrupeds with the secrets of the stable, they would learn the fallacy of their favourite maxim of "Measures, not men," and trust the administration of their affairs to upright and steady grooms, rather than those fanciful half-educated gentlemen who were perpetually changing the rules of the stables, and altering the form of the measures, whereby they embarrassed the regular feeding and training of the inmates, without producing any practical good.

A STAGE-COACH HORSE imputed their want of condition to the misconduct of their leaders, who, he said, could never be kept in the right path, or made to do one-half of the work which properly belonged to them. By a strange fatality, they were generally purblind, and always shyed most fearfully when an Opposition coach approached them. Indeed, it was well known that the horses selected for these duties were, generally speaking, vicious and unsound, and not taken from the most able and powerful, but from the most showy classes. He then proceeded to descant upon the general wrongs of horses. He congratulated the community upon the abolition of bearing reins, those grievous burdens upon the necks of all free-going horses; and he trusted the time would soon arrive when the blinkers would also be taken off, every corn-binn thrown open, and every horse his own leader.

Several other delegates addressed the meeting, and various plans were discussed; but it invariably turned out, upon investigation, that the change would only benefit the class of animals by whom it was proposed. A post-horse was of opinion, that the true remedy lay in decreasing the amount of speed, and shortening the spaces between milestones. A Welsh pony was for the abolition of tolls, which, he said, exhausted the money intended for repairs; whilst some plough-horses from Lincolnshire proposed the encouragement of pasture land, the abolition of tillage, and the disuse of oats altogether. The harmony of the meeting was, at one period, interrupted, by the unfortunate use of the word "_blackguard_" by a delegate from the collieries, which caused a magnificent charger from the Royal Horse Guards, Blue, to rear up, and, with great indignation, demand if the allusion was personal; but who was satisfied with the explanation of the president, that it was applicable only in a warlike sense. A long, lean, bay horse, with a sour head, demanded a similar explanation of the word "_job_," and was told it was used in a _working_ sense. Several resolutions, drawn by two dray-horses, embodying the supposed grievances of the community, were finally agreed upon, and a petition, under the hoof of the president, founded upon them, having been prepared, and ordered to be presented to the House of Commons by the members for Horsham, the meeting separated, and the delegates returned to their respective stables.

* * * * *

THE PROCLAMATION.

Bold warriors of Erin, I hereby _proclaim_,
That the world never witness'd your rivals in fame;
Bold sons of Macmurraugh, Macarthy, O'Neill,
The armies of earth at your sight would turn pale.
A flash from your eyes would light England's last pile,
And a touch give her sceptre to Erin's green isle.

Hurrah for the vengeance of old Mullaghmast,
On the blood-bolter'd ground where your gauntlet was cast;
Hurrah for the vengeance of Tara's proud hill,
Where the bones of our monarchs are blood-sprinkled still.
Hurrah for Clontarf, though the Saxon may smile,
The last, greatest triumph of Erin's green isle!

Let the scoffer scoff on, while I hereby _proclaim_,
That flight may be courage, and fear but a name;
That boasting is good, when 'tis good for the cause,
But, in sight of cold steel, _we should honour the laws_;
That powder and shot make men swallow their bile--
So, hurrah for the glory of Erin's green isle!

If they ask for your leader, the land's sword and shield,
At least none can say that _he fled from the field_.
_He_ kept a whole skin--for the service of Rome;
So he fix'd his headquarters in quiet at home.
They might just as well hunt for the head of the Nile,
While he reckon'd his beads for St Patrick's green isle.

If beggars on horseback will ride--to Clontarf;
If tailors will caper with truncheon and scarf,
At Sunday carousels, all know, I'm in flower,
My taste for the grape don't extend to the shower.
Besides, those blue pills disagree with my chyle,
So, hurrah!--pence and peace for the grand Emerald Isle!

If the scoffer should ask, what the deuce brought you there?
Of course, it was only to taste the fresh air;
To pick cowslips and daisies; and brush off the dew,
Or drink gin o'er the tombstone of Brian Boru.
As to flags, and all that; 'twas but doing in style,
The honours of Freedom to Erin's green isle.

Then, as to your "Squadrons," your "Mount for Repeal,"
'Twas merely to teach them the "Right about wheel,"
By the word of command from the Saxon to run,
As your leader would fly from a bailiff or dun;
In short, since a miss is as good as a mile,
Swear the whole was a humbug for Erin's green isle.

Besides, these are delicate moments to croak,
Since the Saxon's new plan of a word and a stroke.
My mind is made up, like a poodle or pug,
No longer to stir from my berth on the rug;
Though the bold may revile me, so let them revile--
I'm determined to _live_ for old Erin's green isle.

I _proclaim_--that the Saxon will tremble to meet
The heroes of Erin; but, boys, life is sweet.
I _proclaim_--that your shout frightens Europe's base thrones;
But remember, my boys, there is luck in whole bones;
So, take the advice of a friend--wait a while,
In a century or two you'll revenge the Green Isle.

I know in my soul, at the very first shot

That your whole monster meeting would fly at full trot;
What horrid mêlée, then, of popping and flashing!
At least I'LL not share in your holiday thrashing;
Brawl at Sugden and Smith, but beware "rank and file"--
They're too rough for the lambkins of Erin's green isle.

Observe, my dear boys, if you once get me hang'd,
'Tis fifty to one if you'll e'er be harangued.
Farewell to the pleasure of paying the "Rint"--
Farewell to all earth's vilest nonsense in print--
Farewell to the feast of your gall and your guile--
All's over at once with the grand Emerald Isle.

* * * * *

THE FIREMAN'S SONG.

"Ho, comrade, up! awake, arise! look forth into the night:
Say, is yon gleam the morning-beam, yon broad and bloody light?
Say, does it tell--yon clanging bell--of mass or matin song?
Yon drum-roll--calls it to parade the soldier's armèd throng?"

"No, brother, no! no morning-beam is yonder crimson glare!
Yon deep bell tolls no matin--'tis the tocsin's hurried blare!
Yon sullen drum-roll mutters out no summons to parade:
To fight the flame it summons us--the valiant Fire-Brigade!"

Then fast the Fireman rose, and waked his mate that lay beside;
And each man gripp'd his trusty axe, and donn'd his coat of hide--
There bounds beneath that leather coat a heart as strange to fear
As ever swell'd beneath the steel of gilded cuirassier.

And from beneath the leather casque that guards the Fireman's brow,
A bolder, sterner glance shines out than plumy crest can show;
And oft shall ply the Fireman's axe, though rude and rough it be,
Where sabre, lance, and bayonet, right soon would turn and flee!

Off dash the thundering engines, like goblin jäger-chase--
The sleeper shudders as they pass, and pallid grows his face:
Away, away! though close and bright yon ruddy glow appear,
Far, far we have to gallop yet, or e'er our work we near!

A plain of upturn'd faces--pale brows and quivering lips,
All flickering like the tropic sea in the green light of eclipse;
And the multitude waves to and fro, as in the tropic sea,
After a tempest, heaves and falls the ground-swell sleeplessly.

Now, by my faith! goodly sight you mansion fast asleep--
Those winking lamps beside the gate a dull watch seem to keep--
But a gay awaking waits them, when the crash of blazing beam,
And the Fireman's stern réveille, shall mingle with their dream!

And sound as sleeps that mansion, ye may mark in every chink
A gleam, as in the lava-cracks by the volcano's brink;
Through key-hole and through window-slit, a white and sullen glow--
And all above is rolling smoke, and all is dark below.

Hark! hear ye not that murmur, that hush and hollow roar,
As when to the south-wester bow the pines upon the shore;
And that low crackling intermix'd, like wither'd twig that breaks,
When in the midnight greenwood the startled squirrel wakes!

Lo, how the fire comes roaring on, like a host in war array!
Nor lacks it gallant music to cheer it on its way,
Nor flap of flame-tongued banner, like the Oriflamme of old,
Its vanward cohorts heralding, in crimson, green, and gold.

The engines now are ranged a-row--hark, how they sob and pant!
How gallantly the water-jets curve soaringly aslant!
Up spins the stream--it meets the flame--it bursts in fleecy rain,
Like the last spout of the dying whale, when the lance is in
his brain.

Ha, ha! from yon high window thrill'd the wild shriek of despair,
And gibbering phantoms seem to dance within the ruddy glare;
And as a valiant captain leads his boarders to the fray,
"Up, up, my sons!" our foreman shouts--"up firemen, and away!"

Their arms are strong and sinewy--see how the splinters fly--
Their axes they are sharp and good--"Back, comrades! or ye die--
Look to the walls!"--a rending crash--they topple--down they come--
A cloud of sparks--a feeble cheer--again!--and all is dumb.

A pause--as on that battle-day, 'twixt France and England's might,
When huge L'Orient blew up at once, in the hottest of the fight:
There was not one, they say, but wink'd, and held his breath
the while,
Though brave were they that fought that day with Nelson at the Nile.

And by to-morrow's sunrise, amid the steaming stones,
A chain of gold half-melted, and a few small white bones,
And a few rags of roasted flesh, alone shall show where died--
The noble and the beautiful, the baby and the bride!

O fire, he is a noble thing!--the sot's pipe gives him birth;
Or from the livid thunder-cloud he leaps alive on earth;
Or in the western wilderness devouring silently;
Or on the lava rocking in the womb of Stromboli.

Right well in Hamburg revell'd he--though Elbe ran rolling by--
He could have drain'd--so fierce his thirst--the mighty river dry!
With silk, and gold, and diamond, he cramm'd his hungry maw;
And he tamed the wild republicans, who knew nor lord nor law!

He feasted well in Moscow--in the city of the Tsar--
When 'fore the northern streamers paled Napoleon's lurid star:
Around the hoary Kremlin, where Moscow once had stood,
He pass'd, and left a heap behind, of ashes slaked in blood!

He feasted once in London--he feasted best of all--
When through the close-packed city, he swept from wall to wall:
Even as of old the wrath of God came down in fiery rain,
On Sodom and Gomorrha, on the Cities of the Plain!

* * * * *

POSITION AND PROSPECTS OF THE GOVERNMENT.

A recruited revenue; reviving trade and commerce; reduction in the price of provisions; the triumphant termination of hostilities in all parts of the world, with its great immediate prospective advantages: a general feeling of confidence, arising from the steady administration of public affairs, in spite of persevering and atrocious efforts to excite dissatisfaction and alarm; nay, even the stern repose prevailing in Ireland, preserved though it be, for a while, under cover of artillery, and at the bayonet's point, but affording a precious respite from agitation, and a foretaste of the blessings that may be expected from its permanent suppression: all these circumstances unequivocally attest the existence of a powerful Government acting upon a comprehensive and enduring policy, which is becoming daily better appreciated by the strong good sense which ever distinguishes the British character, when a fair opportunity is afforded for its exercise.

Upwards of two years have now elapsed since the accession of the present Government to power, at a period of universally admitted difficulty and danger. We have been, during this critical interval, dispassionate and independent observers of Ministers, and their conduct of public affairs, anxious to see whether they were really equal to the occasion, and worthy of the confidence of the Sovereign and the country. We are ourselves satisfied, and undertake to demonstrate to our readers, that this question must be answered in the affirmative. We say all this advisedly, and with no disposition to deny the existence of difficulties, which, if serious to the present, would be absolutely insuperable to any other Government. During the interval in question, Ministers have triumphed over more formidable difficulties than any which they have at present to encounter. _That_, also, we say advisedly--cheerfully, confidently--with Ireland before our eyes, and the din of the audacious and virulent Anti-corn-law League in our ears.

Passing these topics for the present, let us proceed to examine carefully the real position of Sir Robert Peel and his Government, with a view to ascertaining its prospects of a continuance in power. This enquiry cannot be successfully conducted, without referring for a moment to the immense changes in principles and parties effected by the Reform Bill in 1832--a period of quite as great a revolution as that of 1688. The Tory party it nearly annihilated!--The first Reform Parliament consisting of only 187 Tories to 471 Whigs and Radicals--the former being thus in the fearful minority of 284. We recollect sharing in the despondency, and even despair, which paralysed our party. There was, however, one signal exception in the person of Sir Robert Peel, whose conduct on that occasion entitles him to the eternal gratitude of every man pretending to the character of a Conservative, nay, of every true lover of his country and its institutions. With surprising energy, calmness, and foresight, he instantly addressed himself to the formation, even under those inauspicious and disheartening circumstances, of that _great_ CONSERVATIVE _party_ of which he is now the acknowledged head. In 1841, just _before_ the general election, he thus _reminded that party_, and apprized the country at large of the principle on which he had acted in 1832. We beg our readers to ponder his words, and the period when he uttered them.

"I then foresaw the good that might result from laying the
foundation of a great Conservative party in the state,
attached to the fundamental institutions of the country--not
opposed to any rational change in it which the lapse of years,
or the altered circumstances of society might require, but
determined to maintain, on their ancient footing and
foundation, our great institutions in church and state. In
order to form that party, however, it was necessary, in the
first instance, to widen the foundation on which it should
stand: to call into our connexion men from whom we had been
separated in consequence of differences which no longer
existed. My grand object was to build up that great party
which has been gradually acquiring strength in this
country--which has been gradually widening the foundation on
which it stands, and which has drawn, from time to time, its
support from its opponents."[11]

[11] Speech to the Tamworth Electors on 28th June 1841,
(Painter, Strand.)

The shortest and best evidence of the success which has attended the unwearied exertions of Sir Robert Peel during the ensuing then years, is afforded by the following summary of the results of the four general elections since the passing of the Reform Bill; three of them under the auspices and with the unscrupulously exercised patronage of the Reform Government. Observe the ascending and descending scales:--

C. L.
187 471 (1832)
275 383 (1835)
314 344 (1837)
373 283 (1841)

Who was it but its founder, that led the Conservative party through these successive stages of triumph? Who did so much as he to effect that gradual but decisive change in public opinion which, in 1841, routed the Liberal Ministry in spite of their extraordinary exertions and advantages, and placed a Conservative Government at the head of affairs? To enable us to appreciate the importance of that great victory, and also the decision of character evinced on that occasion by Sir Robert Peel, let us for a moment advert to the calm self-reliance with which, amidst the breathless apprehensions and misgivings of his whole party, he gave battle to the enemy--proposed the memorable vote of want of confidence, and carried it by a majority of one.[12] A more critical move never was followed by more signal success; every ensuing event serving to show, that so far from his movements having been impelled by rash and desperate party speculations, they had been based upon a profound and accurate knowledge of his resources, and of the state of feeling and opinion in the country. "I gave the Government every advantage," said he, "to make their appeal to the country. They boast of the confidence of the crown--they have every means at their disposal which official influence can command to exert in their own behalf. An appeal has been made by them from the House of Commons to you, and it is for the country to decide the question at issue. They have made an appeal to public feeling on account of cheap sugar and cheap bread. My firm belief is, that the people of this country have not at all responded to that cry." How well-founded was that "firm belief," was proved by the glorious result:--the "people of this country did" _not_ "respond to that cry"--they rejected--they repudiated it, and they would do so again if another such appeal were made to them to-morrow.

[12] Ayes, 312; Noes, 311--4th June 1841.

Let us now proceed to show what pretence there is for the injurious insinuations and assertions of Sir Robert Peel's traducers--whether treacherous friends or open enemies--that, in order to obtain power, he hung out false colours to the nation; that his declarations before the general election have been disregarded and falsified by his acts on attaining office. We will for ever demolish all such calumnies and false pretences by going, step by step, through a document which we made a point of procuring at the time, and preserving hitherto, and to which we have since frequently referred, on hearing uttered the slanderous charges to which we allude. That document is a copy of the speech which Sir Robert Peel, on the 28th June 1841, addressed formally to his constituents, but virtually, of course, to the whole nation.

One of his earliest declarations was the following:--"Gentlemen, _I have ever professed moderate opinions on politics_. The principles I professed, and adhered to, I shall adhere to during my public life, whether in opposition or in power, are, I believe, in perfect conformity with the prevailing good sense, the moderation, and the intelligence of the great body of the people of England." This was a sufficiently distinct notice to all men, especially to those of extreme opinions, whether Tory, Liberal, or Radical, of the course of action which was to be looked for from the expectant Prime Minister.

Then, first, he proceeded to admit the existence of manufacturing distress.

"I admit and deplore it, but I do not despair. I have seen distress in manufactures and in commerce before now. I think the causes of the present distress are but temporary--that the cloud will soon blow over--and that the great foundations of manufacturing prosperity are not affected; and I hope I shall very shortly see the day when our manufactures will once more revive, and when we shall again fill the place we have always occupied--that of producers for the markets of the world."

Now for its _cause_.

"Now let us consider the important question, as to how far the distress in the manufactures and commerce of the country is fairly attributable to the corn-laws." He proceeded to show, from Lord Palmerston's official statement in Parliament on the 22d July 1840, that, between the years 1830 and 1839, the _exports_ had risen from the value of L.38,000,000 to L.53,000,000, and the _imports_ from L.46,000,000 to L.62,000,000, "a clear proof that, notwithstanding the local and temporary checks which our commerce had experienced, on the whole it had gone on steadily improving, and that between the two periods it had increased not much less than from two to three."

He then took the _shipping_ and _navigation_ of the country for the preceding three years; and in looking at them, I cannot help thinking that, if there was any thing like an absolute decrease in trade and commerce, there would also be a decrease in the shipping of the country. "Well," said Sir Robert Peel, "What do I find?" The returns "showed an increase, presented within the last three years, from 4,000,000 tons to 4,780,000 tons." Now mark--"during the whole of this period the corn-laws were in operation; how then can they be fairly or honestly assigned as the cause of the present manufacturing and commercial distress?"

But if the corn-laws were _not_, what _was_ the cause?

"I see causes enough in the world, as well as in this country, why there should be manufacturing and commercial distress at the present moment, irrespective and totally independent of the corn-laws."

These were--

1st, "_I do fear that, in the north of England, an undue stimulus has been given to manufacturing industry by the accommodation system pursued by the joint-stock banks. I think the connexion of the manufacturer with the joint-stock banks gave an undue and an improper impulse to trade in that quarter of the county; and I think that, in consequence of this, there have been more manufactures produced within the last two years than were necessary to supply the demand for them._"

2ndly, "Look to the state of some of the foreign countries, which took, at one time, the greatest quantity of our manufactures;" South America, its ports strictly blockaded by France; the United States of North America, "in a state of nascent hostility," and also labouring under "a distress similar to our own, and arising from similar causes. The facility of accommodation afforded by certain banks there gave an undue stimulus to industry; this produced extravagant speculations; many persons failed in consequence, and trade necessarily then came to a stand-still." Canada--the peninsula, France, the great Kingdoms of the middle and north of Europe--Syria, Egypt, China, had been, and were, in such a state, as occasioned all interruption of our trade thither; "a stoppage in the demand for manufactured goods, and a correspondent depression in commerce." "When you put all these things together, all causes, mind you, affecting the market for your goods, and then combine them with the two or three defective harvests we have had of late, I ask you to answer me the question, Whether or not they have been sufficient to account for the depression of manufacturing industry."

Then came Sir Robert Peel to the two grand and suddenly discovered panaceas of the late Government, for recruiting the exhausted revenue, and relieving the general distress--viz. "cheap sugar," and "cheap bread."

1st, As to foreign sugar:--