IFTY-SIX years ago a British general stood encamped on a neck of land in Portugal confronting, with a few thousand men, the gigantic military power of Napoleon. Behind him spread the Tagus and the sea; and before, separated only by the lines which have made Torres Vedras a memorable name, the legions of France extended for miles, led by the champion of Rivoli and Essling, and themselves but the van of the hosts of the empire. The situation appeared desperate, yet Wellington clung tenaciously to his post, and, in the menacing pauses of the war, he wrote repeatedly to the Cabinet at home with reference to the state of Ireland, a subject with which he was well acquainted. With characteristic sagacity and precision he 'pointed out the weak moral influence of the British Government in that country, the misery. and discontent of the poor, the want of loyalty among the middle classes, the dissatisfaction even of the rich, and the disastrous results of religious dissension pervading deeply the frame of society. Ireland, in his judgment, was ruled by the sword, and could be ruled by no other means; and it would not be safe to detach to his aid, though the fate of Europe were staked on the issue, even one regiment of the

VOL. LXXIV.-NO. CCCCXXXIX.

forty thousand men who formed the necessary garrison of the island. He described the mass of the people as serfs, in extreme poverty and continual distress, who abhorred England and the gentry above them, and found in the Roman Catholic priesthood their only natural guardians and protectors; declared that no reliance could be placed on the majority of the farmers and traders in the Roman Catholic provinces of the country; and intimated that many, even of the aristocracy, were not pleased with their actual position. Nor was he blind to the obvious consequences of sectarian domination and discord, of the fatal system by which a caste of Protestants had secured an ascendant church and a monopoly of the privileges of the state, while a Roman Catholic nation and their clergy were kept down in degrading inferiority-although he rather appreciated the mischief than conceived that any remedy was possible. More than once he remarked that, in this state of things, the hold of England on Ireland might prove less firm than his own on the Peninsula, even though Massena was in his front, and the Cabinet were constantly urging him to embark. The Ministers,' he exclaimed in one of his letters, 'forget the political situation

B 2

of Ireland, the detestation of the whole people of the connection with England, and the indifference even of friends which has grown out of it. . . . In Ireland I think matters are in a much more dangerous state than they are even here.'

The Ireland of the present day is certainly a very different country from that described by our soldier statesman. Yet can we deny that a true picture of Ireland in 1866 resembles in some essential features the ominous sketch of 1810; that the dark lines which appear in the one must, though softened in several particulars, be necessarily seen again in the other? Three times, in the course of twenty years, there have been rebellious movements in Ireland, with which the mass of the population, in the Roman Catholic provinces at least, felt more or less undoubted sympathy; and twice in that time it became inevitable to suspend the constitution of the country and to govern it undisguisedly by force. In 1848 the conspiracy of Smith O'Brien exploded, and though it came to a ridiculous end, it had thousands of open and secret adherents, it caused no little alarm in England, it was put down only by coercive measures, and, had it received assistance from France, it might have become extremely formidable. Eleven years afterwards, at a period remarkable for material progress, the spirit of insurrection in Ireland assumed again a tangible shape; in the southern, and part of the western counties, considerable numbers of the people were organised and drilled, usually by emissaries from America, for the avowed purpose of a treasonable outbreak; and though, in this instance, the ordinary powers of the Government seem to have crushed the plot, its ramifications spread wide and deep, and were hardly touched, still less extirpated. Since

1859, a confederacy, taking its rise in America among the millions of emigrant Irish, but finding ample support at home, has been formed to revolutionise Ireland; and, after a series of faint demonstrations, so faint as to have escaped much notice, it culminated in the Fenian League, detected during last autumn only, and happily for the moment dissipated.

If the facts connected with this movement are reassuring in some respects, if they show, to judge from the state trials, and other manifestations of opinion, that the middle classes of Ireland generally are hostile to communistic designs, and that the Roman Catholic priesthood are, as usual, opposed to attacks on society, they unhappily have a dark side, which must not escape a thoughtful observer. From the proportions Fenianism actually assumed, from its extensive and elaborate organisation, from the confidence expressed by its leaders, we apprehend that it certainly had considerable hold on the Irish people, at least as an embodiment of discontent; and it is idle to infer that because it is disliked by the middle classes and the Roman Catholic clergy, these orders are attached to the law, or satisfied with society as it is. The opinion of Parliament and the executive on this subject is shown by their acts: Great Britain has no reliance on Ireland; her liberties have been once more suspended; her people have been deprived of their arms; her militia are not permitted to assemble; and now, as half a century ago, a small but formidable British army is the real engine of government in Ireland.

If we look, too, at the frame of society, and the correlation and feelings of its orders, we shall see that, though much good has been done, the Ireland of 1866 bears still far too close a resemblance to the Ireland described by the pen of

Wellington. The organic structure of the nation, no doubt, has undergone considerable improvement; the relations between the landed classes, though still in an unsatisfactory state, are on a safer basis than of old. There has been an immense decrease in pauperism; agriculture has made very great progress; and the wealth of the island has largely augmented. The political reforms of the last forty years have also borne a happy fruit; all Irishmen, without distinction of creed, have been admitted to the rights of citizens; the domination of a Protestant oligarchy is no longer encouraged by the State; and many of the Roman Catholics of Ireland have adorned the legislation and the public service. It would be idle to say that this policy has been unattended by success, in effacing the odious lines of demarcation that once divided society in Ireland; in producing a natural and just equality among classes that should be equal; in binding many persons to the State by the ties of gratitude and self-interest; and in softening and enlightening Irish opinion. Yet underneath this happier appearance, some evil features of the Ireland of the past remain, without essential change, although in their outline somewhat modified. Ireland is still an exceedingly poor country, and in her three Roman Catholic provinces and to a certain extent in Ulster the peasantry are usually small agriculturists, divided for the most part from the gentry by ancient differences of race and sect, with no real hold on the land, the villains of a commercial feudalism in the civilisation of the nineteenth century. The middle classes differ but little in thought and feeling from that below them; and both, when of the national faith, have little sympathy with a Protestant aristocracy, and what is called a Protestant constitution, while they are deeply attached to the Roman

Catholic priesthood. This powerful body, admirably organised, the spiritual rulers of three fourths of Ireland, stands openly aloof from the State, condemns several of its chief institutions, denounces the Protestant State Church as a monument of iniquitous wrong, and proclaims itself the moral champion of a Church, outraged and yet national, and of a people still exposed to injustice. We need not suppose that real loyalty and real affection to British law exists among such elements as these; and the fact is that the Irish priesthood, and the great mass of the Roman Catholics of Ireland, below the wealthier and higher class, although quiescent and even orderly, are more or less dissatisfied with the state of the society in which their lot is cast, and do not form a contented people. The aristocracy of Ireland, too, is not without occasional complaints, and, since its ascendancy has been overthrown, it has viewed the executive with some jealousy. In short now, as in 1810, though certainly in a far less degree, the state of Ireland must suggest grave thoughts to every one interested in the greatness of England.

It is not our purpose to inquire at length into the causes of these complex phenomena. The more remote, yet the more powerful, go far back into the history of Ireland, and are seen in its course during many centuries. If we reflect that Ireland was annexed to England by a slow process of reiterated conquests, extending over five hundred years; that during this period the mutual hatred of the two nations was fierce and constant, and was aggravated by inhuman laws; and that evil memories of this kind only vanish slowly from the minds of men, we may understand why many of those who are the representatives of the vanquished race, are not particularly attached to the constitution.

If we recollect that the

of Ireland, the detestation of the whole people of the connection with England, and the indifference even of friends which has grown out of it. . . . In Ireland I think matters are in a much more dangerous state than they are even here.'

The Ireland of the present day is certainly a very different country from that described by our soldier statesman. Yet can we deny that a true picture of Ireland in 1866 resembles in some essential features the ominous sketch of 1810; that the dark lines which appear in the one must, though softened in several particulars, be necessarily seen again in the other? Three times, in the course of twenty years, there have been rebellious movements in Ireland, with which the mass of the population, in the Roman Catholic provinces at least, felt more or less undoubted sympathy; and twice in that time it became inevitable to suspend the constitution of the country and to govern it undisguisedly by force. In 1848 the conspiracy of Smith O'Brien exploded, and though it came to a ridiculous end, it had thousands of open and secret adherents, it caused no little alarm in England, it was put down only by coercive measures, and, had it received assistance from France, it might have become extremely formidable. Eleven years afterwards, at a period remarkable for material progress, the spirit of insurrection in Ireland assumed again a tangible shape; in the southern, and part of the western counties, considerable numbers of the people were organised and drilled, usually by emissaries from America, for the avowed purpose of a treasonable outbreak; and though, in this instance, the ordinary powers of the Government seem to have crushed the plot, its ramifications spread wide and deep, and were hardly touched, still less extirpated. Since

1859, a confederacy, taking its rise in America among the millions of emigrant Irish, but finding ample support at home, has been formed to revolutionise Ireland; and, after a series of faint demonstrations, so faint as to have escaped much notice, it culminated in the Fenian League, detected during last autumn only, and happily for the moment dissipated.

If the facts connected with this movement are reassuring in some respects, if they show, to judge from the state trials, and other manifestations of opinion, that the middle classes of Ireland generally are hostile to communistic designs, and that the Roman Catholic priesthood are, as usual, opposed to attacks on society, they unhappily have a dark side, which must not escape a thoughtful observer. From the proportions Fenianism actually assumed, from its extensive and elaborate organisation, from the confidence expressed by its leaders, we apprehend that it certainly had considerable hold on the Irish people, at least as an embodiment of discontent; and it is idle to infer that because it is disliked by the middle classes and the Roman Catholic clergy, these orders are attached to the law, or satisfied with society as it is. The opinion of Parliament and the executive on this subject is shown by their acts: Great Britain has no reliance on Ireland; her liberties have been once more suspended; her people have been deprived of their arms; her militia are not permitted to assemble; and now, as half a century ago, a small but formidable British army is the real engine of government in Ireland.

If we look, too, at the frame of society, and the correlation and feelings of its orders, we shall see that, though much good has been done, the Ireland of 1866 bears still far too close a resemblance to the Ireland described by the pen of