his seat, amid the cheers of his opponents and the silence of his friends, you have revealed to you his character and his policy. His character is to dread attack, and to make any compromise in order to avoid it: his policy is to shape his views according to the opinions of those who are most likely to thwart him. The effect of such a character is to make him adopt the opinions of others, and to borrow them from those who are most opposed to him.

In a country like ours, and in the days upon which we have fallen, such a character placed in authority has an immense effect. Where public opinion governs, the important matter is to influence it. A man, therefore, of inflexible resolution and tenacious will, will always leave a strong mark on the opinions of his day. His impetuous force will sweep before it the disjointed materials of public sentiment, and leave in the deep channel which it graves the marks of its irresistible course.

If he is the advocate of falsehood, he will make many falsehoods current. If he is the champion of truth, he will be paramount, and long after his day debates and the press will tingle with his words. They will form the opinion of thousands. A man of the character of Lord Mansfield leaves traces no less marked, but in a different direction. If he is on the side of falsehood, he adopts popular fallacies, defends them with skill, and relinquishes them when overcome by his opponents. If he is on the side of truth, his influence is stronger, but it is all mischievous. He espouses truth from conviction, his reason being clear. He abandons it on pressure, his courage being weak. He will generally be right in the outset, and he will maintain what is true; he will always be wrong in the end, and will be sure to abandon the truth; but before he abandons his cause, he will betray it; and he will be the worst of traitors, because he will betray while he holds the position of a friend. His mode of betraying will be this: as truth in politics is generally mingled with error, and the side which espouses the true defends also what is erroneous, such a party has to encounter assaults upon its political creed, which are always vigorous and often just. As they maintain their views with prejudice, and regard all attack upon them with indignation, their creed is a heterogeneous mass, and they are conservative of errors as well as of truths. At this juncture a man of Mansfield's character occupying the position of their leader, will be the vigorous champion of their prejudices, tenacious of all, and opposed to change. But when the tide rises, and public opinion turns against them, and prejudice becomes untenable, and the vulnerable part of the system must fall, such a leader passes, by a natural transition, from obstinate prejudice to a general surrender. He is now ready to give up every thing-the

true as well as the false — for as no principle guides his judgment, and he listens constantly to fear, he is prepared for any compromise, so that he may avoid a conflict. Having maintained his system because it was popular, he deserts it as soon as it becomes obnoxious; and instead of expunging from it what is worthless, and retaining what is good, he rises the beaten champion of prejudice, to surrender every thing, even truth, to its enemies. As his practice is to maintain what he has as long as he can, he judges by the amount of pressure as to when and what he surrenders. He prepares himself for the result by refusing to discuss any question upon its principles, and argues always upon what is temporary and accidental. Whenever he can he reserves his opinion, where he cannot he makes it obscure. You will never find him on lines where he plants his standard. He will always have ground on which he can fall back, and nothing will be certain except his retreat. He will never leave any feeling of despair to his opponents, or of confidence to his friends. The one will always look to him with hope, and the other with anxiety, the one always expecting that he will surrender, and the other that he will desert. The effect of this in a discussion of principle is transparent. The principles of which he is the advocate being held back and thrown into the shade, first dwindle and then die. The principles of which he is the opponent, watered by hope and invigorated by success, will become rampant and grow. The cause therefore which he resists is sure to triumph, and that of which he is the champion to dissolve. His influence will be felt throughout his own party, which perceiving his abilities will assume that his policy is founded on reason, and unwilling to attribute his acts to his fears, will refer them to his forethought. They will suppose that he foresees difficulties which escape them, and they will join him in abandoning positions, which are only indefensible because not defended, and only weak because deserted. His course will in fact be the reverse of that of the great warrior. The one driven into a peninsula, with Europe banded against him, conscious of his resources and confident in his cause, chooses his position with the eye of genius, supports it with the constancy of courage, gathers Europe to the rescue, and the world is freed. The other, with truth on his side, but fear in his heart, his hands filled with weapons of strength, his loins shaking with alarm, dreads the attack before it reaches him, and looks round for retreat; blows up entrenchments which are impregnable, undermines what is strong, damps his friends by his cowardice, inspirits his enemies, and finally surrenders bulwarks which would have stood the shock of foes, had they found a friend with the heart to love or the nerve to defend them.

The temper of mind which we have described in the premier has been aggravated by circumstances. He has suffered great political reverses. He has twice been excluded from power. These events have not been forgotten by him, and they have left strong traces on his character. He has learned much from his reverses, but it has been a fatal lesson. He remembers the defeat of Corunna, but it is to resolve that he shall never fix his camp in a position from which there is no retreat. The defeat of Cannæ is present to his mind, but it is not to draw from it the determination of Fabius or the courage of Scipio. He infers from it the need of a compromise with the enemy, and he lowers Roman virtue to Punic terms. The severity of his defeat in 1830, the overthrow of his party, the shattered fragment which adhered to him in 1833,-these things are always present to his recollection. He remembers the bitterness of that humiliation, and he is resolved never to endure it again. He will avoid it by discharging every opinion, and throwing off every measure which encumbers him, and to avoid the possibility of defeat he will never attempt a defence. Hence, as Sir James Graham has explained, both on Irish and educational matters he watches the policy of his opponents and adopts their suggestions. His party he hopes will not desert him, because they dread the return of the Whigs; and as he takes up Whig measures the Whigs cannot oppose him. This is his tactique. It is that of all weak states; long pursued by the Ottoman empire. They take the measures of their enemy in order to stave off his attack, until, lowered in courage, discredited in character, and despoiled of defence, they fall an easy and an abject prey.

The effect of this system on the Irish policy of the present Government has been decisive. The Whigs had a scheme of policy for Ireland. It was bad, but it was consistent. It had an object, and adopted the means to attain it. Its scheme was to manage Ireland through the priests and Mr. O'Connell, their agent. That party was to supply votes to the Whigs in parliament; they were to have their own way in Ireland. The evil of this was, that there could be no vigorous system of executive government for Ireland; all strong interference with political combinations was precluded. Any attempt to secure the ascendancy of law would have been resisted by Mr. O'Connell. His party were too much implicated with the ringleaders of these movements to allow it. The executive government of the Whigs in Ireland was therefore lax and weak. There were some professions of vigour, but no acts. The law, in fact, was enfeebled; the abandonment of the right of challenge by the crown in the selection of juries, and the liberation of felons, gave a direct

encouragement to crime. This was shown in parliament on the motions of Mr. Shaw, of Lord Roden, and of Sir Robert Peel, in 1839. The impossibility of carrying out a vigorous government in alliance with Mr. O'Connell's party was clear. England felt this; she saw that the good of Ireland was sacrificed to the party tactics of the Whigs; she interfered, and put an end to the Whig government. The Conservatives were unfettered by these connexions; they had no alliance with Mr. O'Connell ; they were not trammelled by his parliamentary influence; their course was therefore simple-to repress crime and disorder on all sides-to extend over all the strong authority of the law. But though this policy would have been hailed and supported in England, it was of all possible systems the most obnoxious to the popular feelings in Ireland. We have already explained, that that feeling desires license and detests law. Any government vindicating law was sure to encounter the general antipathy of the Irish; and as that dislike could easily be veiled under plausible pretexts, and while it disguised the real motive, could put forward some ostensible grievance, it was clear that if government persevered in this course of policy, they would have to encounter a violent opposition from Ireland. Nor would it be palatable in parliament, where the Whig party were sure to assail a policy which by its difference censured their own. Accordingly, the attempt to carry out this system in the prosecutions of 1844 drew upon government violent attacks. Never did the Whigs muster more numerously in parliament; never were there longer or more violent debates. The leader of the Whigs made a speech in his most effective manner, full of eloquence, and of that power which earnestness gives to talent. Mr. O'Connell and his whole troop left Ireland, and hurried to the rescue; they knew well how much was at stake; they had lately been taught how hollow was that bubble of agitation which they had been blowing; they knew how many in Ireland had joined their ranks from intimidation, and adhered to them with reluctance; that if such persons could plead the excuse of their fear of a vigorous government, they would desert them. Mr. O'Connell knew well how many of the higher and middling classes were weary of agitation, and longed for repose. A year of resolute government, and the agitation would have become contemptible; a single blow had almost destroyed it. To him, therefore, it was a matter of life and death to stop at the outset this policy of Sir Robert Peel. To Lord John Russell and his party it was no less important. This policy, if successful, would have been a reflection upon them. But, above all, it was essential for their party to keep the large section of Mr. O'Connell in good humour. Some of the

Whig government, three at least of the Irish members, might be turned out of their seats by Mr. O'Connell's enmity. In the shattered position of the Whigs, to lose any considerable section of their forces would have been fatal; they therefore joined earnestly in the attack; and the assault upon the Irish policy of Sir Robert Peel, in Feb. 1844, was the great party move of the session. Apparently the attack was a failure; it was defeated in parliament by argument and by a large majority. But though it failed in the lobby, it triumphed in the cabinet; it was repelled by a vigorous party; it prevailed over the soul of the premier. Whilst his friends were cheering their victory, he was planning his flight; and the triumph was scarcely over before the leader began his retreat. He had faced the battle, and he had conquered; but he had no taste for such victories. If he persevered in this policy, it was evident that he must prepare himself for a long fight. Session after session his policy would be assaulted; the impetuosity of the Irish squadron, with their vehement charges; the cossacks on his flank; the trainbands of the Whigs marshalling their disciplined ranks, and opening their batteries on his front. For years he must expect this; again and again, while this slow but sure policy was carried out, he would have to defend it on the floor of the House of Commons. True his defence would be triumphant, and he would make his way in public opinion, vindicating his policy, and exposing the fallacies of his opponents. Such a prospect would have kindled an ardent mind; such fields of debate, where unfading laurels might be won, would have delighted Chatham, and attracted Pitt, and roused the chivalry of Fox; but they had no charms for Sir Robert Peel. The idea of such a conflict appalled him, and he resolved, before that session was concluded, to turn from a course of vigour into one which should be less honourable, but less arduous. In the end of the session of 1844 he shadowed forth what that course was to be; and both he and Sir James Graham have since that time explained it.

They have frankly admitted that their policy was borrowed from their opponents. It was a very simple system to watch what the Whigs suggested, and adopt their plans. Lord John Russell indeed had been somewhat oracular in the exposition of his. He had talked much of conciliation, of removing the grievances of Ireland, and of securing its attachment, but how this was to be done he had not explained. Lord Howick had suggested the overthrow of the Irish Church. Lord John Russell had not adopted that suggestion. Lord Palmerston had hinted at a douceur to the priests; dignities, perhaps glebes; Lord John Russell had been guarded even upon these points. But there