they are every thing. It is not this wealthy slave, or that titled sycophant, whom the bigots dread, or the parliament respects! No, it is the body, the numbers, the rank, the property, the genius, the perseverance, the education, but, above all, the Union of the Catholics. I am far from defending every measure of the Board-perhaps I condemn some of its measures even more than those who have seceded from it; but is it a reason, if a general makes one mistake, that his followers are to desert him, especially when the contest is for all that is dear or valuable? No doubt the Board had its errors. Show me the human institution which has not. Let the man, then, who denounces it, prove himself superior to humanity, before he triumphs in his accusation. I am sorry for its suppression. When I consider the animals who are in office around us, the act does not surprise me; but I confess, even from them, the manner did, and the time chosen did, most sensibly. I did not expect it on the very hour when the news of universal peace was first promulgated, and on the anniversary of the only British monarch's birth, who ever gave a boon to this distracted country.

You will excuse this digression, rendered in some degree necessary. I shall now confine myself exclusively to your resolution, which determines on the immediate presentation of your petition, and censures the neglect of any discussion on it by your advocates during the last session of Parliament. You have a right to demand most fully the reasons of any man who dissents from Mr. Grattan. I will give you mine explicitly. But I shall first state the reasons which he has given for the postponement of your question. I shall do so out of respect to him, if indeed it can be called respect to quote those sentiments, which on their very mention must excite your ridicule. Mr. Grattan presented your petition, and, on moving that it should lie where so many preceding ones have lain, namely, on the table, he declared it to be his intention to move for no discussion. Here, in the first place, I think Mr. Grattan wrong; he got that petition, if not on the express, at least on the implied condition of having it immedi ately discussed. There was not a man at the aggregate meeting at which it was adopted, who did not expect a discussion on the very first opportunity. Mr. Grattan, however, was angry at "suggestions." I do not think Mr. Grattan, of all men, had any right to be so angry at receiving that which every English mem-⚫

ber was willing to receive, and was actually receiving from any English corn-factor. Mr. Grattan was also angry at our "violence." Neither do I think he had any occasion to be so squeamish at what he calls our violence. There was a day, when Mr. Grattan would not have spurned our suggestions, and there was also a day when he was fifty-fold more intemperate than any of his oppressed countrymen, whom he now holds up to the English people as so unconstitutionally violent. A pretty way forsooth, for your advocate to commence conciliating a foreign auditory in favour of your petition. Mr. Grattan, however, has fulfilled his own prophecy, that "an oak of the forest is too old to be transplanted at fifty," and our fears that an Irish native would soon loose its raciness in an English atmosphere. "It is not my intention," says he, "to move for a discussion at present." Why? "Great obstacles have been removed." That's his first reason. "I am, however," says he, "still ardent." Ardent! Why it srikes me to be a very novel kind of ardour, which toils till it has removed every impediment, and then pauses at the prospect of its victory! "And I am of opinion," he continues, "that any immediate discussion would be the height of precipitation:" that is, after having removed the impediments, he pauses in his path, declaring he is" ardent:" and after centuries of suffering, when you press for a discussion, he protests that he considers you monstrously precipitate! Now is not that a fair translation? Why really if we did not know Mr. Grattan, we should be almost tempted to think that he was quoting from the ministry. With the exception of one or two plain, downright, sturdy, unblushing bigots, who opposed you because you were Christians, and declared they did so, this was the cant of every man who affected liberality. "Oh, I declare," they say, "they may not be cannibals, though they are Catholics; and I would be very glad to vote for them, but this is no time." "Oh no," says Bragge Bathurst, "it's no time. What! in time of war! Why it looks like bullying us!" Very well: next comes the peace, and what say cur friends the opposition? "Oh! I declare peace is no time, it looks so like persuading us." For my part, serious as the subject is, it affects me with the very same ridicule with which I see I have so unconsciously affected you. I will tell you a story of which it reminds me. It is told of the celebrated Charles Fox. Far be it from me, however, to mention that name with levity

As he was a great man, I revere him; as he was a good man, I love him. He had as wise a head as ever paused to deliberate; he had as sweet a tongue as ever gave the words of wisdom utterance; and he had a heart so stamped with the immediate impress of the Divinity, that its very errors might be traced to the excess of its benevolence. I had almost forgot the story. Fox was a man of genius-of course he was poor. Poverty is a reproach to no man; to such a man as Fox, I think it was a pride: for if he chose to traffic with his principles; if he chose to gamble with his conscience, how easily might he have been rich? I guessed your answer. It would be hard, indeed, if you did not believe that in England talents might find a purchaser, who have seen in Ireland how easily a blockhead may swindle himself into preferment. Juvenal says that the greatest misfortune attendant on poverty is ridicule. Fox found out a greater-debt. The Jews called on him for payment. "Ah, my dear friends," says Fox, "I admit the principle; I owe you money, but what time is this, when I am going upon business." Just so our friends admit the principle; they owe you emancipation, but war's no time. Well, the Jews departed just as you did. They returned to the charge: "What: (cries Fox,) is this a time, when I am engaged on an appointment?" What! say our friends, is this a time when all the world's at peace? The Jews departed; but the end of it was, Fox, with his secretary, Mr. Hare, who was as much in debt as he was, shut themselves up in garrison. The Jews used to surround his habitation at day-light, and poor Fox regularly put his head out of the window, with this question, "Gentlemen,are you Fox-hunting or Hare-hunting this morning?" His pleasantry mitigated the very Jews. "Well, well, Fox, now you have always admitted the principle, but protested against the time—we will give you your own time, only just fix some final day for our repayment."-" Ah, my dear Moses," replies Fox, "now this is friendly. I will take you at your word; I will fix a day, and as it's to be a final day, what would you think of the day of judgment?"-" That will be too busy a day with us.""Well, well, in order to accommodate all parties, let us settle the day after." Thus it is, between the war inexpediency of Bragge Bathurst, and the peace inexpediency of Mr. Grattan, you may expect your emancipation-bill pretty much about the time that Fox settled for the payment of his creditors. Mr. Grattan, how

ever, though he scorned to take your suggestions, took the suggestions of your friends. "I have consulted," says he, "my right honourable friends!" Oh, all friends, all right honourable! Now this it is to trust the interest of a people into the hands of a party. You must know, in parliamentary parlance, these right honourable friends mean a party. There are few men so contemptible, as not to have a party. The minister has his party. The opposition have their party. The saints, for there are saints in the House of Commons, lucus a non lucendo, the saints have their party. Every one has his party. I had forgotten-Ireland has no party. Such are the reasons, if reasons they can be called, which Mr. Grattan has given for the postponement of your question; and I sincerely say, if they had come from any other man, I would not have condescended to have given them an answer. He is indeed reported to have said that he has others in reserve, which he did not think it necessary to detail. If those which he reserved were like those he delivered, I do not dispute the prudence of keeping them to himself; but as we have not the gift of prophecy, it is not easy for us to answer them, until he shall deign to give them to his constituents.

Having dealt thus freely with the alleged reasons for the postponement, it is quite natural that you should require what my reasons are for urging the discussion. I shall give them candidly. They are at once so simple and explicit, it is quite impossible that the meanest capacity amongst you should not comprehend them. I would urge the instant discussion, because discussion has always been of use to you; because, upon every discussion you have gained converts out of doors; and because, upon every discussion within the doors of parliament, your enemies have diminished, and your friends have increased. Now, is not that a strong reason for continuing your discussions? This may be assertion. Aye, but I will prove it. In order to convince you of the argument as referring to the country, I need but point to the state of the public mind now upon the subject, and that which existed in the memory of the youngest. I myself remember the blackest and the basest universal denunciations against your creed, and the vilest anathemas against any man who would grant you an ioto. Now, every man affects to be liberal, and the only question with some, is the time of the concession; with others, the extent of the concessions; with many, the nature of the se

curities you should afford; whilst a great multitude, in which I am proud to class myself, think that your emancipation should be immediate, universal, and unrestricted. Such has been the progress of the human mind out of doors, in consequence of the powerful eloquence, argument, and policy elicited by those discussions which your friends now have, for the first time, found out to be precipitate. Now let us see what has been the effect produced within the doors of Parliament. For twenty years you were silent, and of course you were neglected. The consequence was most natural. Why should Parliament grant privileges to men who did not think those privileges worth. the solicitation? Then rose your agitators, as they are called by those bigots who are trembling at the effect of their arguments on the community, and who, as a matter of course, take every opportunity of calumniating them. Ever since that period your cause has been advancing. Take the numerical proportions in the House of Commons on each subsequent discussion. In 1805, the first time it was brought forward in the Imperial legislature, and it was then aided by the powerful eloquence of Fox, there was a majority against even taking your claims into consideration, of no less a number than 212. It was an appalling omen. In 1808, however, on the next discussion, that majority was diminished to 163. In 1810 it decreased to 104. In 1811 it dwindled to 64, and at length in 1812, on the motion of Mr. Canning, and it is not a little remarkable that the first successful exertion in your favour was made by an English member, your enemies fled the field, and you had the triumphant majority to support you of 129! Now, is this not demonstration? What becomes now of those who say discussion has not been of use to you: but I need not have resorted to arithmetical calculation. Men become ashamed of combating with axioms. Truth is omnipotent, and must prevail; it forces its way with the fire and the precision of the morning sun-beam. Vapours may impede the infancy of its progress; but the very resistance that would check only condenses and concentrates it, until at length it goes forth in the fullness of its meridian, all life and sight and lustre, the minutest objects visible in its refulgence. You lived for centuries on the vegetable diet and eloquent silence of this Pythagorean policy; and the consequence was, when you thought yourselves mightily dignified, and mightily interesting, the whole world was laughing at your phi

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