resolutions that have passed the commons of Great Britain. Sir, I do not suspect any such thing, nor would I encourage such a groundless apprehension. Sir, I do not think it would be easy to find a man who would stand within the low-water mark of our shore, and read some of those resolutions above his breath, without feeling some uneasiness for his personal safety; neither can I think, if a foreign usurpation should come crested to our bar, and demand from the treachery of this house a surrender of that constitution which has been established by the virtue of the nation, that we would answer such a requisition by words.

But, sir, though the people should not apprehend such extreme perfidy from us, they will be justly alarmed if they see us acting with needless precipitation; after what is past, we cannot be surprised at not meeting with the most favourable interpretations, of our conduct.

On great subjects, the magnitude of the ideas to be compared, may cause some confusion in the minds of ordinary men; they will, therefore, examine our conduct by analogy to the more frequent occurrences of common life: such cases happen every day. Will you permit me to suppose a very familiar one, by which our present situation may be illustrated to a common mind.

I will suppose then, sir, that an old friend that you loved, just recovering from a disease in which he had been wasted almost to death, should prevail upon you to take the trouble of buying him a horse for the establishment of his health; and I the more freely presume to represent you for a moment in an office so little corresponding with the dignity of your station, from a consciousness that my fancy cannot put you in any place to which you will not be followed by my utmost respect. I will therefore, suppose that you send for a horse-jockey, who does not come himself, but sends his foreman:

Says the foreman, sir, I know what you want; my master has a horse that will exactly match your friend; he has descended from Rabelais' famous Johannes Caballus, that got a doctor of physic's degree from the college of Rheims; but your friend must pay his price. My master knows he has no money at present, and will therefore accept his note for the amount of what he shall be able to earn while he lives, allowing him, however, such moderate subsistence as may prevent him from perishing. If you are satisfied I will step for the horse and bring him in

stantly, with the bridle and saddle, which you shall have into the bargain. But, friend, say you, are you sure that you are authorized to make this bargain? What, sir, cries the foreman, would you doubt my honour? Sir, I can find three hundred gentlemen who never saw me before, and yet have gone bail for me at the first view of my face. Besides, sir, you have a greater pledge; my honour, sir, my renown is at stake. Well, sir, you agree, the note is passed; the foreman leaves you, and returns without the horse. What, sir! where is the horse? Why, in truth, sir, answers he, I am sorry for this little disappointment, but my mistress has taken a fancy to the horse; so your friend cannot have him. But we have a nice little mare that will match him better; as to the saddle he must do without that, for little master insists on keeping it; however, your friend has been so poor a fellow that he must have too thick a skin to be much fretted by riding bare-backed; besides, the mare is so low that his feet will reach the ground when he rides her; and still further to accommodate him, my master insists on having a chain locked to her feet, of which lock my master is to have a key to lock or unlock as he pleases, and your friend shall also have a key so formed that he cannot unlock the chain, but with which he may double lock it if he thinks fit.

What, sirrah, do you think I'll betray my old friend to such a fraud? Why really, sir, you are impertinent, and your friend is too peevish; 'twas only the other day that he charged my master with having stolen his cloak, and grew angry, and got a ferrule and spike to his staff. Why, sir, you see how good-humouredly my master gave back the cloak. Sir, my master scorns to break his word, and so do 1; sir, my character is your security. Now, as to the mare, you are too hasty in objecting to her, for I am not sure that you can get her; all I ask of you now is to wait a few hours in the street, that I may try if something may not be done; but let me say one word to you in confidence:

I am to get two guineas if I can bring your friend to be satisfied with what we can do for him; now if you assist me in this, you shall have half the money; for to tell you the truth, if I fail in my undertaking I shall either be discharged entirely, or degraded to my former place of helper in the stable.

Now, Mr. Speaker, as I do not presume to judge of your feelings by my own, I cannot be sure that you would beat the fore

man, or abuse him as an impudent lying impostor: I rather think you would for a moment be lost in reflecting, and not without a pang, how the rectitude of your heart, and the tenderness of your head, had exposed you to be the dupe of improbity and folly. But, sir, I know you would leave the wretch who had deceived you, or the fool who was deceived by his master, and you would return to your friend. And methinks you would say to him, we have been deceived in the course we have adopted; for, my good friend, you must look to the exertions of your own strength for the establishment of your health. You have great stamina still remaining, rely upon them, and they will support you. Let no man persuade you to take the ferrule or spike from your staff. It will guard your cloak. Neither quarrel with the jockey, for he cannot recover the contents of the note, as you have not the horse; and he may yet see the policy of using you honestly, and deserving to be your friend. If so, embrace him, and let your staff be lifted in defence of your common safety, and until that shall happen, let it be always in readiness to defend yourself.

Such, sir, is the advice you would offer to your friend, and which I would now offer to this house. There is no ground for despairing; let us not therefore alarm the people. If a closer connexion with Great Britain is not now practicable, it may become practicable hereafter. But we shall ruin every hope of that kind by precipitation. I do therefore conjure gentlemen not to run the risk of forcing us on a week's notice to enter on a subject, on which every man in the nation ought to be allowed the most unlimited time for deliberation. I do conjure them not to assent to a measure that can serve nobody but the proposer of it; that must expose this house to the distrust of their constituents, and which may in its consequences endanger the harmony of two kingdoms, whose interests and fortunes ought never to be separated.

2 H

21

SPEECH OF MR. CURRAN,

ON THE

BILL FOR REGULATING THE COMMERCIAL INTERCOURSE BETWEEN GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

HOUSE OF COMMONS, FRIDAY, AUGUST 12th, 1785.

MR. ORDE moved for leave to bring in the bill.

Mr. CURRAN said, he was too much exhausted to say much at that hour (six o'clock) on the subject. His zeal had survived his strength. He wished his present state of mind and body might not be ominous of the condition to which Ireland would be reduced, if this bill should become a law. He could not therefore yield even to his weakness. It was a subject which might animate the dead. He then took a view of the progress of the arrangement, and arraigned the insidious conduct of the administration. In Ireland it was proposed by the minister; in England it was reprobated by the same minister. He had known children to learn to play cards, by playing the right hand against the left: he had never before heard of negociation being learned in that way. He said a bill was not a mode of negociating; our law spoke only to ourselves-bound only ourselves;—it was ab surd therefore to let a bill proceed. But the commercial part was out of the question; for this bill portended a surrender of the constitution and liberty of Ireland. If, said he, we should attempt so base an act, it would be void, as to the people. We may abdicate our representation, but the right remains with the people, and can be surrendered only by them. We may ratify our own infamy; we cannot ratify their slavery. He feared the British minister was mistaken in the temper of Ireland, and judged of it by former times. Formerly the business here was

carried on by purchased majorities; there was a time when the most infamous measure was sure of being supported by as infamous a majority. But things were changed; the people were enlightened and strong; they would not bear a surrender of their rights, which he said would be the consequence if they submitted to this bill. It contained a covenant to enact such laws as England should think proper, they would annihilate the parliament of Ireland. The people here must go to the bar of the English house of commons for relief; and for a circuit ous trade to England, we were accepting, he said, a circuitous constitution.

also

He said it was different totally from the cases to which it had been compared, the settlement of 1779, or the Methuen treaty; there all was specific and defined; here all was fustian and uncertain. A power to bind externally would involve a power of binding internally. This law gave the power to Great Britain of judging what would be a breach of the compact, of construing it, in fact of taxing us as she pleased, and gave her new strength to enforce our obedience. In such an event, he said, we must either sink into utter slavery, or the people must either wade to a re-assumption of their rights through civil blood, or be obliged to take refuge in an union, which, he said, would be the annihilation of Ireland, and what he suspected the minister was driving at. Even the Irish minister, he said, no longer pretended to use his former language on this subject; formerly we were lost in a foolish admiration at the long impedimented mark of oratoric pomp with which the secretary displayed the magnanimity of Great Britain. That kind of eloquence, he supposed, was formed upon some model; but he suspected that the light of political wisdom was more easily repeated than the heat of eloquence; yet we were in raptures even with the oratory of the honourable gentleman. However he now had descended to an humble style. He talked no more of reciprocity, no more of emporium. He then went into general observations to show that this treaty would give no solid advantages to Ireland, but was a revocation of the grant of 1779. He said he loved the liberty of Ireland; he would therefore vote against the bill, as subversive of that liberty; he would also vote against it as leading to a schism between the two nations, that must terminate in a civil war, or an union at best. He was sorry, he said, that he troubled them so long; but he feared it might be the last time he should ever have an