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most every other part of Europe. Men of every temperament and every shade of opinion, now began to think that it was idle to attempt to oppose any further barriers to the resistless genius of the emperor of France. They saw that every coalition which had as yet been formed against him, only served to increase his greatness; and seemed to think that, by further opposition, he would only be stimulated to prosecute his projects of aggrandisement, until his throne was established upon an elevation from which he might command the world. But not so, old Blucher, with whose prophetic words we shall conclude; words which must have been brought to the recollection of his auditor, when their import was afterwards realized in the march to Paris.

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"I reckon much,' said Blucher to Bourrienne at Hamburgh, whither he had retired on his parole from Lubeck, on the public spirit of Germany, on the enthusiasm which reigns in our universities. Success in war is ephemeral; but defeat itself contributes to nourish in a people the principles of honour and a passion for national glory. Be assured, when a whole people are resolved to emancipate themselves from foreign domination, they will never fail to succeed. I have no fears for the result. We shall end by having a Landwehr such as the slavish spirit of the French could never produce. England will yield us its subsidies; we

will renew our alliances with Russia and Austria. I know well the principles of the coalition. The sole object which the allied sovereigns have in view is to put a limit to the system of aggression which Napoleon has adopted, and which he pursues with the most alarming rapidity. In our first wars against France, at the commencement of its revolution, we fought for the right of kings, in which, for my part, I felt very little interest; but now the case is totally changed, the population of Prussia makes common cause with its government, the safety of our hearths is at stake; and reverses, when such a breaking the spirit of a nation. spirit is abroad, destroy armies without I look forward without anxiety to the future, because I foresee that fortune will not always favour your emperor. The time may come when Europe, in a body, humiliated by his exactions, exhausted by his depredations, will rise up in arms against him. The more he enchains different nations, the more terrible will be the explosion when they burst their fetters. Who can now dispute the insatiable passion for aggrandizement with which he is animated?

No sooner is Austria subjugated than Prussia is destroyed; and though we have fallen, Russia remains to continue the strife. I cannot foresee the issue of this struggle; but, supposing it to be favourable to France, it will come to an end. You will speedily see new wars arise, and if we hold firm, France, worn out with conquests, will at length succumb.'"

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DANIEL O'CONNELL, ESQ.-NO. I.

AMONG Sketches of the Irish Bar," which appeared some years since in the "New Monthly Magazine," a prominent place was assigned to the portrait of Mr. O'Connell. The man of the people was drawn, as in a historical picture, with his attributes, or, if we may be permitted to use the term, his "properties," the endowments and the contrivances by which favor and followers were won, faithfully enumerated and judiciously displayed about him. The crucifix conspicuously placed in the learned gentleman's study, and the cook in the back ground, whose services, less prominent, were not less profitable, had, each, due honor in the piece ;and while it was thus certified that consulting clients had assurance of the lawyer's Catholic devotion, and that political instruments found a prevailing attraction at the Catholic leader's table,

the muscular form and the merry countenance, the ready utterance and commanding voice, all dedicated to the task of magnifying Ireland's wrongs, and pouring ridicule and hatred upon her oppressors-were set forth, as attributes sure to win ready favor from that large class of the people with whom "such things have weight," and who could have no opportunity to relish the excellencies of the demagogue's cuisine, or to have their attention distracted between the somewhat ill-assorted decorations of his study.

Since that portrait was drawn, the condition of its original has been greatly altered. He has superadded to his popularity, power. Men in authority render him obedience; and, as yet, the people have not forsaken him. In time he must pay the price for the good he chooses to retain, or is compelled, not

withstanding the sacrifice he shall have made, to relinquish; but, whatever the future may demand, it is certain that, at this moment, Mr. O'Connell continues to enjoy that favor from the people with which he has, nevertheless, purchased command over their rulers ;a prosperity rarely exampled, and of which, oddly enough, the Orange tree is a type, retaining, as ornaments for its more precious productions, fair blossoms, which are not ordinarily permitted to co-exist with, and embellish, the fruits of which they are the appointed promise.

Mr. O'Connell is, perhaps,without exception, the most popular individual of his own, or of any, age; and he is, at the same time, of all public men, the individual whose exertions appear the least to merit the favor and influence which they have procured him. In the political life of this remarkable man, nothing seems more conspicuous than his indifference to the interests or distresses of the people; and the very classes towards whom his contempt has been most signally manifested, are those by whose support he has been elevated to the commanding station he occupies. The sufferings and wants of the poorthe waste and the debasement of mendicancy the absence of those comforts which attach men to peace, and, by bettering the condition, impart something of dignity to the character-the burden of exorbitant rents-the evils of precarious occupation-the crying afflictions of decrepitude and friendless destitution-these are the harrowing grievances by which the peasantry of Ireland are really subdued or maddened; -and O'Connell, who "careth for none of these things,” is yet the idol and the despot of that neglected portion of the people. It is true, he would bestow upon the very lowest of the populace dangerous political privileges; but it would seem as if his purpose in imposing the gift was like that of the Barons of old, when they secured to their feudal serfs possession of the mattock and plough, not that the instruments of agriculture should enrich their humble possessors, but that they should render the labors of the peasant more profitable to his lordly master. The gains accruing to that party of which Mr. O'Connell is the life, from the political powers entrusted to the mass of the people, are so visible that they cannot be overlooked;-it does not yet appear that the people to whom they have been given are to derive any profit from them.

But it would be erroneous to imagine that influence over the multitude is most likely to be won by endeavours to render them substantial benefits. A plain man, who would serve the people, will probably apply himself to the task of explaining to them their interests. An artful man, who would use them, will enflame and pamper their pas sions. Mr. O'Connell, probably, never suggested a measure which would provide food for the starving, or warmth for the naked and shivering, which would introduce comfort into cottages, and, by a mercy better than the prerogative exercised in these days" of rebuke," make our gaols solitary places-he has not addressed himself to the relief of natural necessities, or ministered to those tendernesses by which hearts are bettered; and yet his influence with the mass of the people is boundless—their enthusiasm for him knows no compulsive ebb. How has he bewitched them? Shall we hazard a reply?-

There is an instinct in the natural heart which causes it to feel more strongly the influence of malignant passions than of affections which are happier and gentler. We remember an expresion uttered by a female peasant, which seems to contain the pith and marrow of this dark philosophy. She was mother to a youth who perished in the conflagration of Wild-goose lodge, and she saw the murderers of her child executed. It was observed that her maternal affection seemed, as it were, transferred to the stipendiary magistrate who had been most active in bringing the criminals to justice. The safetythe comforts of this gentleman, became her especial care, and to a degree which caused the subject of so novel an interest no little embarrassment. Upon one occasion when she was expostulating with him on his want of caution, and passionately soliciting him to be always on his guard, he enquired why she troubled herself with this concern for a stranger's safety; and it was then she made the reply which exhibited the intense power of that gloomy gratitude of which malignity is susceptible "Why should I not care for you, and watch for you, and love you," said the woman whom grief had not softened—

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Why should I not love you? Was not it you that gave me the sweetest morsel that ever mortal tasted? Was not it you that gave me my fill of revenge?" One excerpt more from the traits of character elicited on the same occasion, for the purpose of showing that the thirst of vengeance was not

less devouring in the vanquished than the victor, and our demonstration is completed. On the night previous to the execution of Devine, by whom the Wild-goose Lodge tragedy, had been contrived, a gentleman, strongly interested in the unhappy man's fate, entered his cell with the purpose of directing his thoughts towards the interests which ought to engage them. He found the wretch incapable of entertaining any thought which did not breathe of hatred and revenge; and to his earnest and touching remonstrances he could obtain no answer but this, ""Tis all true, sir, what you say. I know that if my enemy was lying there before me at this moment I could do him no hurt or harm, and I know that, to-morrow morning, the weakest worm can crawl over me or into me, and I cannot stir to shake it away-but the soul can do something still, and if I'm in heaven, or if I'm in the flames of hell, I'll come back upon earth to have satisfaction." One cannot think without a shudder,

that these were the last recorded words in which an inhuman murderer renounced life and gave death a malignant welcome; but it fearfully augments the horror in which they are remembered, to reflect that it is men of such characters as they denote-so desperate and malevolent-whose influence predominates most in the troubles which have long

afflicted Ireland.

We do not, indeed, write these notices of the character of our countrymen without pain, but we feel that, in order to render the success and the influence of modern demagogues intelligible, they ought to be written. Let it not, however, be supposed that we think malignity naturally characteristic of the people of Ireland. Far be it from us so to describe them. We believe them to have their share of the evil inherent in the sons of fallen man, but if it appear that they are "sinners beyond others," we look to the unhappy circumstances in which they are placed, to account for the superadded iniquity. We believe Irishmen to be naturally, brave, compassionate, generous-if they have been rendered treacherous, merciless, false, their abasement should be compassionated, and their deliverance from the influences which have so mournfully changed them, labored, and hoped, and prayed for.

But it cannot be denied that at this moment they are susceptible, in a degree which it is painful to contemplate,

of those stimulants by which the darker passions are exasperated.

We have shown the energy of their appetite for revenge, as illustrated in the over-true anecdotes related above. We have now to show that this mine of vindictive passion is not unknown to the orators of the movement, or unwrought by them, but that, on the contrary, they place such reliance on the abundance with which it yields resources, as to put away from them for a time all concern for the reputation which gentlemen would desire to retain, in order that they may work it to advantage.

For this purpose we will select a single instance the harangue of Mr. Shiel in Waterford after the late election.

"Speaking," as the Times of Septemthe election, he said-We have not only ber 16th observes, "of his opponents at beaten them, but trodden and stamped upon them," &c. &c.

The Times comments upon this effusion of triumph in the following terms :—

"Our readers must have perused the list of Irish outrages' which have daily appeared in our paper. We ask them whether this passage of Mr. Shiel's speech does not contain an accurate description of the manner in which the agitators of a lower grade (if lower there can be) to Sligo, and to this very county of Tipcelebrate their political triumphs? Look perary. Do not the ruffians not only beat,' but tread and stamp' upon their victims? Do they not after, after 'striking them to the earth,' literally 'roll them in the dust?' Do they not take but too be for ever prostrate?'" good care that their fallen victims shall

Such were the comments of the Times-such would naturally be the comments of every honorable man; and such, from his recollections of the intercourse he once had with honorable men, if not, also, from his own good taste, Mr. Shiel must have anticipated. He thought it better, however, to provoke censures and sarcasms, to which he is by no means insensible, than deny himself the advantage of the stimulating topics, by which he won enthusiastic cheers from his auditory at Waterford.

In order to understand the instruction which may be derived from the learned gentleman's choice of subjects for his address, it is necessary only to suppose that Englishmen composed

the audience to which he was to adapt his declamation. How would he then seek the cheers? Or rather how would an English audience be rendered most prodigal of their applauses? Would it be a popular theme to boast of the truculency with which the vanquished and fallen had "been trodden and stamped upon ?" Englishmen would hoot from their assembly, with execrations, the man who could insult them by such a boast; and yet such is the boast by which Mr. Shiel, an artful and accomplished orator, wins loud plaudits in Waterford. The foul brutes which gorge upon the carcasses they have disinterred, are not more basely distinguished from the lion, than the gatherings are, in which Mr. Shiel's notes of triumph were applauded, from the generous assemblages where his pusillanimous truculency would not be tolerated for an instant.

The speeches of a successful orator have ever been regarded as fair testimonies to the character of his audience. A sympathy of sentiment, at least an affectation of it, is essential to his suc

cess.

Mr. Shiel's speech, therefore, shows the temper and spirit of his Waterford, applauding, hearers, and justifies a presumption that their dispositions had become so infected with a spirit of revenge and malice, that the overthrow of an adversary was tasteless to them, unless it were rendered pungent by contumelies and cruelties perpetrated on the fallen.

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Such is the character of that portion of the Irish people, in which Mr. O'Connell has found his most effective instruments; and it is, therefore, very conceivable that, without ever ferring a benefit upon them, he may so accommodate his addresses to their passions, and his measures to their vices, as to bestow on them gratifications which shall satisfy their sharpest appetite. If some who have imbibed hatred to the gentry are indulged with assurances that they shall see the aristocracy still further mortified and humbled,--if some who have felt terror mingling with their hostility to Protestants and their religion, are invited to regale their fancies with visions of an outraged and impoverished clergy;-and if those whose purposes of vengeance extend to the meditated extermination of all who bear the English name, or who worship in what is denounced as a false religion are encouraged by symptoms, that the strength and union of the men they would destroy are departing, while

they see the remorseless instruments of their dark designs becoming every day more numerous, better combined, and bolder,-it is very conceivable, that the parties exercising most absolute sovereignty over the Irish people, may discern in exertions followed by such results, merit of a far more prevailing character than they would acknowledge in services, which, increasing the comforts of every cottage hearth, should indispose the inmates to perilous and lawless enterprise. This is a rational conjecture;-it was necessary for us to propose it ;-because it is right to have it borne in mind that, in Ireland, more obviously than perhaps in any country on the face of the earth, despotism and all its glories may be achieved, not by going about and doing good, but by rendering sacrifice and service to black and baleful passions-by bowing down and worshipping the principle of malevolence and destruction. Whatever may be thought of our conjectures and speculations, this must be acknowledged as truth respecting the phenomenon of which we would offer or seek an explanation :-the apology offered for the turbulence and lawlessness of the Irish people has been found in their domestic sufferings and wants; and the individual who has been, of all political men, the most conspicuous for his indifference to such grievances, and for the absence of all endeavour to remove them, is the individual looked up to by the classes which he seems most to despise, as their best friend and as a leader in whom their trust is boundless.

But it is, perhaps, always found, that influence with the people retains a savour from the sacrifice which has procured it.—It has been won by ministering to the best affections which distinguish man.—It is often obtained by rendering service to the vilest. And, accordingly, there is an influence which love sweetens and exalts, as there is also a power and command ungraced and uuendeared by any gentle interest.

Mr. O'Connell's influence with the people is not based upon their kindly affections. Love has not grown with his exorbitant greatness; and yet, so far as words can recommend a man to the more amiable feelings of his followers, he has not been sparing of them. He makes matters public and private interchange duties with a reciprocity by no means Hibernian. He adduces the interests of Ireland to give breadth and boldness to occasions which seem most unsuited to such embellishments,

-and in return, he has enlisted the most retiring of the domestic affections into the public service, and pronounced apostrophes "to the wife of his bosom," and eulogies upon the best son that "mother was ever blessed with," as proper to raise or soften the interest of those angry or matter of fact controversies in which his duty to Ireland engages him. These are sweeteners which one might suppose should have an effect in exhibiting him in an amiable light to his admirers, and imparting the grace of personal attachment to the historical interest in which he is confessedly regarded.

Yet somehow or other they do not

tell. No man living has received proofs of popular favor at all comparable to those which have been bestowed on Mr. O'Connell; and, probably, no man, living or dead, has ever obtained a commanding influence over the people, so widely estranged from the charm and the security of individual affection. We believe that, at this moment, he could influence multitudes to peril life at his word; and we are persuaded, that, were he, now, in his prosperity, taken away, the remembrance of him, in a little month, might have a shade of mortification upon it, but, in all likelihood, would scarcely have power to awaken a sorrow or a sigh.

THE TRANCE.

There was a heavy murmuring sound—
Then all was still as death-

And light and life had passed away
Like summer's parting breath.
There was a horrid stillness round,
Like that dread deathly feel,
That comes before the thunder-cloud
Out-pours its wrathful peal.

Then came a soft, low, wailing sound,
And sadly breathed my name-
I knew it was my mother's voice-
I often heard the same.

She called on me in agony,

As though her heart would breakThere was a madness in my soul, And yet I could not speak.

I felt the scalding tear-drops fall
Upon my chill damp brow-
I knew that one bent over me,
But that availed not now.
I sought to raise my heavy eyes,
But tried and prayed in vain;
A horrid spell had bound me down,
And maddened up my brain.

Then came a sound of heavy feet,
Tramping around my bed—

I knew what 'twas-yet could not speak
To tell I was not dead.

They raised me up, and put me in

A narrow, narrow thing;

And then again came tears of woe,
And sounds of sorrowing.

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