cover his retreat. Almost every gentleman of rank and fortune appears as his auxiliary. and the gentry, by their aspect at this instant, as well as by their devotedness during the election, furnish evidence that in his person their own cause was to be asserted. To this comonation of favourable circumstances-to the political friend, to the accomplished gentleman, to the eloquent advocate, at the head of all the Patrician opulence of the county, what did we oppose? We opposed the power of the Catholic Association, and with that tremendous engine we have beaten the cabinet minister, and the phalanx of aristocracy by which he is surrounded, to the ground. Why do I mention these things? Is it for the purpose (God forbid that it should!) of wounding the feelings or exasperating the passions of any man? No, but in order to exhibit the almost marvellous incidents which have taken place, in the light in which they ought to be regarded, and to present them in all their appalling magnitude. Protestants who hear me, gentlemen of the county Clare, you whom I address with boldness, perhaps, but certainly not with any purpose to give you offence, let me entreat your attention. A baronet of rank and fortune, Sir Edward O'Brien, has asked whether this was a condition of things to be endured he has expatiated upon the extraordinary influence which has been exercised in order to effect these signal results; and, after dwelling upon many other grounds of complaint, he has with great force inveighed against the severance which we have created between the landlord and tenant. Let it not be imagined that I mean to deny that we have had recourse to the expedients attributed to us; on the con trary, I avow it. We have put a great engine into action, and applied the entire force of that powerful machinery which the law has placed under our control. We are masters of the passions of the people, and we have employed our dominion with a terrible effect. But, Sir, do you, or does any man here, imagine that we could have acquired this formidable ability to sunder the strongest ties by which the different classes of society are fastened, unless we found the materials of excitement in the state of society itself? Do you think that Daniel O'Connell has himself, and by the single powers of his own mind, unaided by any external co-operation, brought the country to this great crisis of agitation? Mr. O'Connell, with all his talents for excitation, would have been utterly powerless and incapable, unless he had been allied with a great conspirator against the public peace and I will tell you who that confederate is-it is the law of the land itself that has been Mr. O'Connell's main associate, and that ought to be denounced as the mighty agitator of Ireland. The rod of oppression is the wand of this enchanter, and the book of his spells is the penal code. Break the wand of this political Prospero, and take from him the volume of his magic, and he will evoke the spirits which are now under his control no longer. But why should I have recourse to illustration which may be accounted fantastical, in order to elucidate what is in itself so plain and obvious? Protestant gentlemen, who do me the honour to listen to me, look, I pray you, a little dispassionately at the real causes of the events which have taken place amongst you. I beg of you to put aside

your angry feelings for an instant, and believe me that I am far from thinking that you have no good ground for resentment. It must bo most painful to the proprietors of this county to be stripped in au instant of all their influence; to be left destitute of all sort of sway over their dependants, and to see a few demagogues and priests usurping their natural authority. This feeling of resentment must be aggravated by the consciousness that they have not deserved such a return from their tenants; and as I know Sir Edward O'Brien, to be a truly benevolent landlord, I can well conceive that the apparent ingratitude with which he was treated, has added to the pain which every landlord must experience; and I own that I was not surprised to see tears upon his eyelids, while his face was inflamed with the emotions to which it was not in human nature that he should not give way. But let Sir Edward O'Brien, and his fellow-proprietors, who are gathered about him, recollect, that the facility and promptitude with which the peasantry have thrown off their allegiance, are owing not so much to any want of just; moral feeling on the part of the people, as to the operation of causes. for which the people are not to blame. In no other country, except in this, would such a revolution have been effected. Wherefore? Because in no other country are the people divided by the law from their superiors, and cast into the hands of a set of men, who are supplied with the means of national excitement by the system of government under which we live. Surely no man can believe that such an anomalous body as the Catholic Association could exist, excepting in a community which had been alienated from the state by the state itself. The discontent and the resentment of seven millions of the population have generated that domestic government, which sways public opinion, and uses the national passions as the instruments of its will. It would be utterly impossible, if there were no exasperating distinctions amongst us, to Create any artificial causes of discontent. Let men declaim for a century, and if they have no real grievance their harangues will be empty gound and idle air. But when what they tell the people is true-when they are sustained by substantial facts, effects are produced, of which what has taken place at this election is only an example. The whole body of the people having been previously excited, the moment any incident, such as this election, occurs, all the popular passions start simultaneously up, and bear down every obstacle before them. Do not, therefore, be surprised that the peasantry should throw off their allegiance, when they are under the operation of emotions which it would be wonderful if they could resist. The feeling by which they are actu ated, would make them not only vote against their landlord, but would make them scale the batteries of a fortress, and mount the breach; and, gentlemen, give me leave to ask you, whether, after a due reflection upon the motives by which your vassals (for so they are accounted) are governed, you will be disposed to exercise any measure of severity in their regard. I hear it said, that before many days go by, there will be many tears shed in the hovels of your slaves, and that you will take a terrible vengeance. I trust that you will not, when your own pas icas shall have subsided, and your blood has had time to cool, persevere

in such a cruel, and let me add, such an unjustifiable determination. Consider whether a great allowance should not be made for the offence which they have committed. If they are under the influence of fanaticism, such an influence affords many circumstances of extenuation you should forgive them, "for they know not what they do." They have followed their priests to the hustings, and they would follow them to the scaffold. You will ask, wherefore they should prefer their priests to their landlords, and have a higher reverence for the altars of their religion, than for the counter in which you calculate your rents? Consider a little the relation in which the priest stands towards the peasant. I will take for my example an excellent landlord and an excellent priest. The landlord shall be Sir Edward O'Brien, and the priest shall be Mr. Murphy of Corofin. Who is Sir Edward O'Brien? A gentleinan who from the windows of a palace, looks upon possessions almost ns wide as those which his ancestors beheld from the summit of their feudal towers. His tenants pay him their rent twice a-year, and have their land at a moderate rate. But what are his claims, when put into comparison with those of Mr. Murphy of Corofin, to the confidence, to the affection, and to the fidelity of the peasants who are committed to iis care? He is not only the minister of that humble altar at which eir forefathers and themselves were taught to kneel, but he is their kind, their familiar, yet most respected friend. In their difficulties and mistresses they have no one else to look to; he never fails when consalted by them, to associate his sympathy with his admonition; for their sake he is ready to encounter every hazard, and, in the performance of the perilous duties incident to his sacerdotal office, he never hesitates to expose his life. In a stormy night, a knocking is heard at the door of the priest of Corofin. He is told that at the foot of the mountain a man of guilt and blood has scarcely more than an hour to live. Will the teacher of the gospel tarry because of the rain and of the wind, and wait until the day shall break, when the soul of an expiring sinner can be saved, and the demons that are impatient for him can still be scared away? He goes forth in the blackness of the tempestuous midnight— he ascends the hill, he traverses the morass-and faint, and cold, and dripping, finds his way to the hovel where his coming is awaited;-wito what a gasping of inarticulate gratitude-with what a smile of agony is he welcomed! No fear of contagion, no dread of the exhalations of mortality, reeking from the bed of the pestilential man can appal him, but kneeling down at the side of the departing culprit, and sustaining him in his arms, he receives from lips impregnated with death, the whisper with which the heart is unloaded of its mysteries, and, raising up his eyes to heaven, pronounces the ritual of absolution in the name of Him of whose commission of mercy he is the befitting bearer, and whose precepts he illustrates in his life and inculcates in his example. And can you feel wonder and resentment that under the influence of such a man as I have described to you, your dependants should have ventured upon a violation of your mandates? Forgive me if I vẹnture to supplicate, on behalf of your tenants, for forbearance. Pardon them, in the name of one who will forgive you your offences in the

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same measure of compassion which you will show to the trespasses of those who have sinned against yourselves. Do not persecute these poor people: don't throw their children upon the public road, and send them forth to starve, to shiver, and to die. For God's sake, Mr. Fitzgerald, as you are a gentleman and a man of honour, interpose your influence with your friends, and redeem your pledge. I address myself personally to you. On the first day of the election you declared that you would deprecate persecution, and that you were the last to wish that vindictive measures should be employed. I believe you-and I call upon you to redeem that pledge of mercy, to perform that great moral promise. You will cover yourself with honour by so doing, in the same way that you will share in the ignominy that will attend upou any expedients of rigour. Before you leave this country to assume your high functions, enjoin your friends with that eloquence of which you are the master, to refrain from cruelty and not to oppress their tenants. Tell them, Sir, that instead of busying themselves in the worthless occupation of revenge, it is much fitter that they should take the political condition of their country into their deep consideration. Tell them that they should address themselves to the legislature, and implore a remedy for these frightful evils. Tell them to call upon the men, in whose hands the destiny of this great empire is placed to adopt a system of peace, and to apply to Ireland the great canon of political morality-pacis imponere morem. Let it not be imagined that any measure of disfranchisement, that any additional penalty, will afford a remedy. Things have been permitted to advance to a height from which they cannot recede. Protestants, awake to a sense of your condition. What have you seen during this election? Enough to make you feel that it is not a mere local excitation, but that seven millions of Irish people are completely arrayed and organized. That which you behold in Clare, you would behold, under similar circumstances, in every county in the kingdom. Did you mark our discipline, our subordination, our good order, and that tranquillity, which is formidable indeed? You have seen sixty thousand men under our command, and not a hand was raised, and not a forbidden word was uttered in that amazing multitude. You have beheld an example of our power in the almost miraculous sobriety of the people. Their lips have not touched that infuriating beverage to which they are so much attached, and their habitual propensity vanished at our command. Is it meet and wise to leave us armed with such a dominion? Trust us not with it; strip us of this appalling power; disarray us by equality; instead of angry slaves make us contented citizens; if you do not, tremble for the result.

CLONMEL AGGREGATE MEETING.

SPEECH MADE AT AN AGGREGATE MEETING IN CLONMEL DURING THE

ASSIZES.

THE assizes held for this, the great county of Tipperary, exhibit a deplorable spectacle of turbulence and of guilt. I consider it to be my duty to address to this immense assembly, composed of several thousands, and comprehending a vast body of the peasantry, some wellmeant advice. You are well aware that in the course which I have adopted, I have not displayed a pusillanimous spirit, and that I am deeply sensible of the wrongs which are inflicted upon my country. What I shall say, therefore, in the shape of strong reproof, will be taken in good part. I tell you undisguisedly, that although I consider the government to have adopted unavailing and inapplicable means for the restoration of tranquillity, yet that I look upon the crimes committed amongst you with dismay. What have I not witnessed in the course of the few days which the assizes have occupied! What a stain have those crimes left upon the character of your country! Look at the murder of the Sheas-look at the midnight conflagration in which eighteen of your fellow-creatures perished, and tell me if there be anything in the records of horror by which that accursed deed has been excelled! In that night which stands without a parallel-a child was born in fire-transferred from the womb to flames, kindled by fiends, who exulted round the furnace with whose roaring the shrieks of agony were mingled! What must have been the pains of that delivery in which a mother felt the infant that was clasped against her bosom consumed by the fires with which she was surrounded! The mother was found dead near a tub of water, in which she had plunged her infant, and the child was discovered with its skull burned off, while the rest of the limbs were preserved by the water in which the expiring parent had striven in the united pains of death and child-birth to preserve it. With what exclamation shall we give vent to the emotions which are awakened by the recital of that which you tremble to hear, and which there were human beings found who were not afraid to do! We can but lift up our hands to the God of justice, and ask him why he has invested us with the same forms as the wretches who did that unexampled murder. Although accompanied by circumstances of inferior terror, the recent assassination of Barry belongs to the same class of guilt. A body of men, at the close of day, enter a peaceful habitation, on the Sabbath, and regardless of the cries of a frantic woman, who, grasping one of the murderers, desired him "to think of God, and of the blessed night, and to spare the father of her eight children," dragged him forth, and when he "offered to give up the ground tilled and untilled, if they spared him his life," answered with a yell of ferocious irony, and telling him "he should have ground enough," plunged their bayonets into his heart! An awful spectacle was presented on the trial of the wretched individuals who were convicted of the assassi