Part 12 (1/2)

”Whom can a man make free with, if not with his friends?” saith Figaro; and the Belfast men have studied Beaumarchais, and only ”carried out his principle,” as the Whigs say, when they speak of establis.h.i.+ng popery in Ireland, to complete the intention of emanc.i.p.ation.

Lawyers must have been prodigiously sick of all the usual arguments in defence of prisoners in criminal cases many a year ago. One of the cleverest lawyers and the cleverest men I ever knew, says he would hang any man who was defended on an _alibi_, and backed by a good character.

Insanity is worn out; but here comes Belfast to the rescue, with its plea of intimacy. Show that your client was no common acquaintance--prove clearly habits of meeting and dining together--display a degree of friends.h.i.+p between the parties that bordered on brotherhood, and all is safe. Let your witness satisfy the jury that they never had an altercation or angry word in their lives, and depend upon it, killing will seem merely a little freak of eccentricity, that may be indulged with Norfolk Island, but not punished with the gallows.

”Guilty, my lord, but very intimate with the deceased,” is a new discovery in law, and will hereafter be known as ”the Belfast verdict.”

A NUT FOR THE REAL ”LIBERATOR.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: 245]

When Solomon said there was nothing new under the sun, he never knew Lord Normanby. That's a fact, and now to show cause.

No attribute of regal, and consequently it may be inferred of vice-regal personages, have met such universal praise from the world, as the wondrous tact they would seem to possess, regarding the most suitable modes of flattering the pride and gratifying the pa.s.sions of those they govern.

It happens not unfrequently, that they leave this blessed privilege unused, and give themselves slight pains in its exercise; but should the time come when its exhibition may be deemed fit or necessary, their instinctive appreciation is said never to fail them, and they invariably hit off the great trait of a people at once.

Perhaps it may be the elevated standard on which they are placed, gives them this wondrous _coup-d'oeil_, and enables them to take wider views than mortals less eminently situated; perhaps it is some old leaven of privileges derivable from right divine. But no matter, the thing is so.

Napoleon well knew the temper of Frenchmen in his day, and how certain short words, emblematic of their country's greatness and glory, could fascinate their minds and bend them to his purpose. In Russia, the czar is the head of the church, as of the state, and a mere word from him to one of his people is a treasure above all price. In Holland, a popular monarch taps some forty puncheons of schnapps, and makes the people drunk. In Belgium, he gets up a high ma.s.s, and a procession of virgins.

In the States, a rabid diatribe against England, and a spice of Lynch Law, are clap-trap. But every land has its own peculiar leaning--to be gratified by some one concession or compliment in preference to every other.

Now, when Lord Normanby came to Ireland, he must have been somewhat puzzled by the very multiplicity of these expectations. It was a regular ”embarras de richesses.” There was so much to give, and he so willing to give it!

First, there was discouragement to be dealt out against Protestants--an easy and a pleasant path; then the priests were to be brought into fas.h.i.+on--a somewhat harder task; country gentlemen were to be snubbed and affronted; petty attorneys were to be petted and promoted; all claimants with an ”O” to their names were to have something--it looked national; men of position and true influence were to be pulled down and degraded, and so on. In fact, there was a good two years of smart practice in the rupture of all the ties of society, and in the overthrow of whatever was respectable in the land, before he need cry halt.

Away he went then, cheered by the sweet voices of the mob he loved, and quick work he made of it. I need not stop to say, how pleasant Dublin became when deserted of all who could afford to quit it; nor how peaceful were the streets which no one traversed--_ubi solitudinem faciunt pacem appellant_. The people, like Oliver, ”asked for more;”

ungrateful people! not content with Father Glynn at the viceroy's table, and the Bishop of ”Mesopotamia” in the council, they cried, like the horseleech's daughters, ”Give! give!”

”What would they have, the spalpeens?” said Pierce Mahony; ”sure ain't we destroying the place entirely, and n.o.body will be able to live here after us.”

”What do they want?” quoth Anthony Blake; ”can't they have patience?

Isn't the church trembling, and property not worth two years' purchase?”

”Upon my life!” whispered Lord Morpeth, ”I can't comprehend them. I fear we have been only but too good-natured!--don't you think so?”

And so they pondered over their difficulties, but never a man among them could suggest a remedy for their new demand, nor make out a concession which had not been already made.

”Did you b.u.t.ter Dan?” said Anthony.

”Ay, and offered him the 'rolls' too,” said Sheil.

”It's no use,” interposed Pierce; ”he's not to be caught.”

”Could n't ye make Tom Steele Bishop of Cashel?”

”He wouldn't take it,” groaned the viceroy.

”Is Mr. Arkips a privy councillor?”