the part of all the people of Ireland, do claim as their birthright, AND

WHICH WE CANNOT YIELD BUT WITH OUR LIVES.""

Mr. Grattan's amendment was seconded by Mr. Burroughs, member for the County of Armagh. Mr. Flood added fire to the debate by exclaiming, 'A voice from America shouted to liberty; the echo of it caught your people as it passed along the Atlantic, and they renewed the voice until it reverberated here. The amendment was carried by acclamation, and the crown yielded to the demands of the Irish people by declaring the obnoxious acts repealed. In its joy and gratitude, Parliament voted Mr. Grattan an estate; but Mr. Flood disturbed the general harmony by declaring that the edifice was not crowned, the work was not completed. 'It is not enough,' he argued, 'for England to declare, under stress of circumstances, that she repeals Acts, which, by-and-by, she may re-enact ; she must renounce the right to legislate for Ireland.' He said, • Were the voice with which I utter this the last effort of expiring nature, were the accent that conveys it to you the breath that wafts me to the grave to which we all tend, and to which my footsteps rapidly accelerate, I would go on. I would make my exit by a loud demand of your rights; and I call upon the God of Truth and Liberty, who has so often favoured you, and who has of late looked down upon you with such peculiar grace and glory of protection, to continue His inspirings, to crown you with the spirit of His completion, and to assist you against the errors of those that are honest, as well as against the machinations of those who are not so.'

In the ensuing session of Parliament, Grattan twitted Flood with his bodily infirmity, and with having voted 4,000 men to butcher our brethren in America. Then Flood scarified his rival: 'I do not come here dressed in a rich wardrobe of words to delude

the people. I am not the gentleman who subsists on your accounts. I am not the mendicant patriot who was bought by my country for a sum of money, and then sold my country for prompt payment. I object to no man for being in office-a patriot in office is more the patriot for being there. There was a time when the glories of the great Duke of Marlborough shrank and withered before the right honourable gentleman; when palaces superior to Blenheim were to be built for his reception; when pillars and pyramids were to be raised and adorned with emblazoned inscriptions sacred to his virtue; but the pillars and pyramids are now sunk, though then the great Earl of Chatham was held inferior to him. However, he is still so great that the Queen of France, I dare say, will have a song made on the name of Grattan.' Grattan winced, and poured out in reply a lava flood of invective. He said, 'It is not the bad tongue of a bad character that can defame me. I maintain my reputation in public and in private life. No man who has not a bad character can say I ever deceived him; no country has ever called me cheat. I will suppose a public character, a man not now in this House, but who formerly might have been here. I will suppose that it was his constant practice to abuse every man who differed from him, and to betray every man who trusted him. I will suppose him active; I will begin from his cradle and divide his life into three stages: in the first he was intemperate, in the second corrupt, and in the third seditious. Suppose him a great egotist, his honour equal to his oath; and I will stop him and say, Sir, your talents are not as great as your life is infamous; you were silent for years, and you were silent for money. When affairs of consequence to the nation were debating, you might be seen passing by these doors like a guilty spirit, just waiting for the moment of putting the question that you might

pop in and give your venal vote; or at times, with a vulgar brogue, aping the manners and affecting the infirmities of Lord Chatham; or like a kettle-drummer lather yourself into popularity to catch the vulgar; or you might be seen hovering over the dome like an ill-omened bird of night, with sepulchral notes, a cadaverous aspect, and broken beak, ready to stoop and pounce upon your prey.

"You can be trusted by no man; the people cannot trust you, the Ministers cannot trust you; you deal out the most impartial treachery to both. You tell the nation it is ruined by other men while it is sold by you. You fled from the embargo, you fled from the Sugar Bill, you fled from the Mutiny Bill. I therefore tell you in the face of your country, before all the world, and to your beard, you are not an honest man."

This was tall abuse, and we are not surprised to hear that a duel was with difficulty prevented. Flood defended himself in the House, and on the question of renunciation the country was with him.

In the twenty third year of George III., the English legislature passed a bill renouncing the right to legislate for Ireland, and the legislative independence of Ireland was finally complete. Grattan's star now waned, and Flood took his place for a while in popular estimation. George III's illness necessitated the appointment of a Regent, and the Prince of Wales was indecently eager for the post. To assert the complete independence of Ireland, Grattan and his friends most unwisely carried an address appointing the Prince, Regent of Ireland. The natural result of this was, that the possible danger of having a separate executive for each of the two countries, profoundly alarmed all moderate men. The king's recovery averted the danger; but the English Government from that time resolved to carry the union in order to prevent the possibility of the recurrence of such an

alarming incident. Then came the rebellion with all its horrors; and at its close the subject of a legislative union between the two countries was mooted in the Speech from the Throne to the Irish parliament.

The House after an animated debate adopted Mr. Ponsonby's amendment to the address, declaring their intention of maintaining the right of Ireland to a free, independent legislature residing within the country. This was decisive of the temper of the Irish House of Commons; they would not even entertain the question of an union. The English Ministry were determined, however, to force the matter through. They believed it to be good and even necessary for Imperial interests, and they acted on, if they did not avow, the doctrine that the end justifies the means.' They surmised that the virtue of legislators would not be long proof against the solicitations of private arguments.

The recess accordingly was utilized for negotiations. Lord Cornwallis was sent over as Lord-Lieutenant, and Lord Castlereagh as Secretary, with instructions to buy upa majority of each house. The plain-minded soldier sickened. at his work. Refractory Peers were promised an English, or at least a step in the Irish, peerage. Owners of boroughs were compensated with money to the tune of six millions of dollars; ambitious barristers were seduced with promises of place; and when Parliament met again and for the last time, the Government were able to outbid the Opposition, and to secure a small but servile majority.

Wonderful glories of oratory illumined the dying struggles of the Irish Parliament, glories which have thrown an unreal glamour over the transaction; the pathetic eloquence of Grattan touched every heart, and even at this distance of time makes the heartstrings tremble with emotion. The great orator was almost too feeble to stand; but the old ring was in his voice, the old sweetness in his rheto

ric.

We have, unfortunately, only space for his peroration. Identifica

tion is a solid and imperial maxim, necessary for the preservation of freedom, necessary for that of empire : but without a union of hearts, with a separate government but without a separate Parliament, identification is extinction, is disastrous, is conquest, not identification. Yet I do not give up my country. I see her in a swoon, but she is not dead; though in her tomb she lies helpless and motionless, still there is on her lips a spirit of life, and on her cheek a glow of beauty :—

"Thou art not conquered: beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheek, And death's pale flag is not advanced there." 'While a plank of the vessel stacks together, I will not leave her. Let the courtier present his flimsy sail, and carry the light bark of his faith with every new breath of wind, I will remain anchored here with fidelity to the fortunes of my country, faithful to her freedom, faithful to her fall.' It was too late; the great speech had no effect in redeeming venal votes. The dying hour of the Irish Parliament had come. The Speaker, Foster, rose from his chair and put the question, That this Bill do now pass; as many as are of that opinion will say aye.'

Then, with eyes averted from the Bill, which he held in his hand, he said, in a subdued voice, 'the Ayes have it. For an instant,' says an eye-witness, Sir Jonah Barrington, 'he stood statue-like, and then sunk into his chair with an exhausted spirit.' Then, when the House adjourned, he withdrew in silence to his own residence, followed by about forty members, also in silence and uncovered. The Speaker bowed to the crowd, and then the whole assemblage dispersed without a word.

On the 29th of July, 1800, the King, closing the Session of the English Parliament, gave his assent to the Act of Union, and said, 'This great measure, on which my wishes have

long been earnestly bent, I shall now consider as the happiest event of my reign.'

The chief articles of the Act of Union were as follows :

The Kingdoms of Great Britain. and Ireland should, on and after January 1st, 1801, be styled 'The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.' Ireland was to contribute to the United Parliament twentyeight Elective Peers, and four Spiritual Peers by rotation. There were to be a hundred members of the House of Commons from Ireland, two from each county and from each of the cities of Dublin and Cork, one from the University and each of twenty-one boroughs.

The Churches of England and Ireland were to be united.

Ireland was to pay two-seventeenths of the revenue for the next twenty years.

Certain commercial amendments were also made.

Such, very briefly, was the Act of Union.

We have already reprobated in strong terms the corrupt means employed to carry it; let us, however, endeavour calmly to judge of its wisdom, and see if a return to the old plan, even if possible, would be a benefit, and, finally, gather up the lessons of the whole story for our own political instruction.

George IV. humorously said, during his visit to Ireland, to some of the opponents of the Union, You made a mistake; you should have made terms, and you would have got good ones;' and there was a good deal of shrewd ness in the observation. Had the Irish patriots had some Scotch prudence the countries would doubtless have been united on more equal terms. But, in all fairness, has Ireland gained nothing? Assuredly she has gained much, and will yet gain more. sider what would have been the probable fate of Ireland as an independent nation. England, it has been well

Con

said, probably owes her greatness to having been conquered by the Normans. Ireland, it may with equal justice be said, will yet owe her greatness to having been incorporated with England. Ireland is too weak to stand alone; it may be irritating to say it, but it is too true. Were her people of one heart and mind on all national questions, then perchance Ireland might dispense with the protection of England; but, divided in religion, unable to agree in politics, we should anticipate but a sorrowful future for her were she at this moment cut adrift from England. Imagine the blaze of sectarian animosity! Why, the famous battle of the Kilkenny cats would be the only parallel. Then think of the quack political nostrums that would be speedily in the market-the royal soothing syrup, the republican pills, the imperial elixir.

Faction would degenerate into civil war, and, at last, the nation, exhausted and bleeding from the wounds of internecine strife would be clutched in the strong hand of England in self-defence, or fall under the seductive patronage of France; and until France learns to respect her own liberties, she is hardly likely to preserve those of Ireland.

Look, on the other hand, at her present position as an integral part of the British Empire. Sharing freely in the noblest, wisest, freest constitution that the world has ever seen, every citizen, whatever his race, whatever his creed, elects the man of his choice to represent him in making those laws by which the country is governed, and finds open to his talents every office in the land, save only the throne. No prohibitory tariffs shut them out from the markets; they share in the commerce, and may traverse the seas of the globe protected by the might of the whole Empire. Moreover, Ireland. can soon WOO English capital to her shores, if only she can convince John Bull that the Irish won't tell him lies or shoot him.

England wants to atone for the past. She has shown it, and Ireland should not for ever nurse her wrath; she should grasp her sister's outstretched hand, and in that warm clasp all the bad old bitterness melting away, they should go forward united, loving each other, respecting each other, and therefore happy, to the accomplishment of the great work which God has given them to do in the world. England needs Ireland, for that is her vulnerable flank, 'tis there she might be mortally struck. England needs Ireland, for Ireland supplies her army with thousands of her best soldiers. England needs Ireland to produce for her, from its rich green pastures, the beef which is a necessity of life to John Bull.

And, on the other hand, Ireland needs England; she needs English capital, English manufactures, English law, English colonies, English common-sense, and English ballast.

Those that are loudest in denouncing the British connexion are generally those whose political education is deficient, and their political instincts a couple of centuries behind the time. Some folks object to order, cleanliness, and law. There was once an excellent English lady residing in Ireland, who tried to reorganize an old Irish woman. She sent her servant to clean up the cabin, put in some decent furniture, hang some bright cooking tins on the wall, and lastly to wash the old woman herself and clothe her in new and wholesome garments. When all was complete, the lady went to see her protegée. She was alarmed to observe that the old woman looked very sullen and hostile. Well, Mary,' she said, 'how do you feel now?' Ah, thin, ma'am, I do feel horrid clane.' Now, is it not difficult to sympathize with those who want Ireland to go back to the good ould times, the grand ould times, of poverty, ignorance, and dirt, just because they feel 'horrid clane?'

This proposed Home Rule will not

satisfy the discontented people in Ireland; and we have a shrewd suspicion that its promoters have no belief in their own nostrum. Their secretary, Mr. Alfred Webb, has abandoned the cause, and the one really able leader they had is dead; and we imagine that it will be found a difficult task to galvanize the party into fresh life.

In the abstract, there is no reason why Irish local affairs should not once more be discussed at College Green by a local parliament. Westminster and Dublin might correspond to Ottawa and Toronto. But such a legislature would have hardly more dignity than the Dublin corporation; our experience here leads us to smile at the idea of so much enthusiasm being wasted upon so petty an object, and to infer that it cannot be such a Parliament as that that the Home Rulers really want. Yet more than that they will never get unless as a result of a successful war with the rest of the Empire; and even were they to succeed in battle, the permanence of their independence would be exceedingly precarious.

Irishmen may well be pardoned if they look back with pride to the eloquence and ability shewn in their native parliament; especially during its closing years; if they contemplate with sorrow the faded glories of their metropolis shorn of its senate, and deserted by its nobles. This is but natural, and yet they ought like wise men to look forward hopefully into the future and to accept the existing situation, rather than to dwell idly on the irrevocable past.

For the past is irrevocable; but the future may be big with treasures and triumphs for Ireland if only her sons prepare themselves to take advantage of its opportunities. They have a Parliament to which they contribute no insignificant proportion, a parliament which stands facile princeps among the senates of the world. They have a Queen, who is not only a pure and noble and charitable lady, but a most experienced stateswoman,

and a most loyal and constitutional sovereign. With such a Queen, with such a constitution, with a share in fortunes so imperial, with a future of which, if she will, she can make so much, we should be false to education, to common-sense, to religion, if we did not supplicate Heaven to wipe away with pitying hand the evil past from the tables of Ireland's memory, and to bind her and England and Canada and the whole empire together with the chains of love, in one common interest and one glorious destiny.

And now, are there no lessons from the chapter of Irish history which has been lying open before us, which it would be specially good for us Canadians to learn? Let us see that while party government is the safety of a nation, faction is its bane and inevitable ruin. Whilst differing manfully, and often widely, from the opposite party as to methods, let us credit them with the same aim as our selves, the glory and welfare of our common country.

A good deal of the bitterness of Canadian politics is probably from the teeth outwards; our bark is worse than our bite; but we should reflect that it is degrading to our culture and bad for our morality to be always throwing dirt, and imputing rascality. Let us follow party for the sake of principle, never for the sake of men, let us be jealous of the honour of our public men; the patriots' cloak, the statesman's mantle should be as lustrous-white as the ermine of the judge; and those who habitually befoul their rulers deserve to be-and generally are-betrayed.

Let us learn, too, the incalculable evils of religious animosity. I come not,' said the Master, with the sad prescience of one who knew perfectly what was in man, 'to bring peace on earth but a sword.' How many have mistaken this, which was a prophecy of what man would do with the gospel, for an announcement of the divine purpose. Oh how keen, how