of a bloody and destructive war. It is convenient, doubtless, for England, and for her instruments in this country, to cry up the "good of the empire" because it lays the power of Ireland at her disposal; but if the empire consists of two parts, one of which is to reap the whole profit of a contest, and the other to share only the difficulties and the danger, I know not why we should be so misled by sounds as to sacrifice solid advantages to the whistling of the name of "empire." The good of the whole empire consists of the good of all the parts; but in our case the good of one part is renounced to establish the good of the other. Let us, for God's sake, call things by their proper names; let us analyse this unmeaning and fallacious mixed mode "empire" into its components, England and Ireland, and then see how the matter stands. England has a quarrel with Spain, in a matter concerning her own interest exclusively, and wherein she is to reap the whole profit. Ireland has no quarrel, but, on the contrary, a very beneficial intercourse with Spain, which she is required to renounce to her infinite present detriment; she is called on, likewise, to squander her wealth and shed her blood in this English East Indian quarrel, and then she is told, to console her, that she has been advancing the good of the empire!" Let us substitute "England" for the "empire," and see if it be not nearer the fact and truth. Certainly, if there be such a thing as this "empire," and if the general good of this "empire" be forwarded by the particular loss and suffering of Ireland, I may be allowed to say, it would be better for her there were none.

Suppose, in this great era of revolution, the French were to acknowledge the title of his Majesty, set forth on his guineas, to the throne of their kingdom; that he were, in gratitude, to move his royal residence to Paris, and govern England by a French Viceroy, and on French views and principles: suppose the merchants of Marseilles were to quarrel with the Turks in the Levant, and find it expedient to go to war; suppose the merchants of London to have a very gainful trade to the Levant, and to find those same Turks fair and honest dealers-what answer would the intelligent and virtuous Parliament of England give to the Viceroy, who should come forward and demand them to renounce this trade and its profits, to sink the value of their lands, and fetter and cramp their commerce with a load

of additional taxes, to send forth the bravest of their youth to battle and slaughter, and then tell them it was all for the good of the common empire of France and England? The Viceroy would act like a good Frenchman in making the requisition, but he would find the English nation too determined and too wise to listen to such idle babble, as that of forwarding the common good of two independent nations, by the certain loss and detriment and damage of one of them.

Now, setting aside our prejudice against the idea of a French Viceroy at St. James's, will any man deny that the actual case of Ireland at this day, is exactly parallel with that of England which I have supposed? with this difference, however, that when the war was over, France and England might renew their trade with Turkey, but the trade which is at present in dispute between England and Spain, Ireland can, by no possible contingency, ever attain a share in.

The argument then stands thus: The quantum of consolidated power in the "empire" may be increased by a successful war, but it is distributed entirely to one of the components, while the other is at a certain loss. Suppose the joint strength before the war to be as twelve, England being as eight, and Ireland as four, and after the war to be as fourteen; England being as eleven, with one-third gained, and Ireland as three, with one-fourth lost; it is very obvious that there would be an increase of power in the "empire," resulting, however, from a very alarming defalcation from one of the parts. And this is no exaggerated supposition, when we consider the mode in which each country must necessarily carry on the war. During the contest, to Ireland nothing is certain but a heavy loss of trade, men, and money. Our privateers, from the discouragement to Irish navigation, are few, and navy we have none; whereas, England may not only support the contest, but be absolutely enriched by a Spanish war, even during its continuance. Her powerful navy, her infinite number of corsairs, bring in wealthy prizes from every point of the compass. Where then, is the equality of empire? or what are our temptations to

war?

I have shewn, as I presume, that in the use of the word “empire," we are the dupes of a sound; if, as I contend, the good of the empire turns out, when examined, to signify no more than

the good of England, purchased, and dearly purchased, at a heavy loss to Ireland, I know not what quixotic spirit of national generosity misguided, or gratitude misplaced, shall pretend to exact such a sacrifice from us. I hasten, therefore, to the next grand argument for our interference, the honor of the British flag; an argument, on the face of it, degrading to our country, and dishonorable to our spirit; an argument, the mention of which should make every Irishman hang his head in sorrow and abasement. WHERE IS THE NATIONAL FLAG OF IRELAND? I know there are those who, covering their apathy or their corruption with the specious garb of wise and prudent caution, may raise their hands in astonishment at this, as an idle exclamation; but, I say, that such a badge of inferiority, between the two Kingdoms, is a serious grievance. Is the bold pride of patriotism nothing? Is the ardent spirit of independence nothing? Is national rank nothing? If the flag of England be, as it is, dearer to every brave Englishman than his life, is the wish for a similar badge of honor to Ireland to be scouted as a chimera? Can the same sentiment be great and glorious on one side the channel, and wild and absurd on the other? It is a mortifying truth, but not the less true for its severity, that the honor of the British is the degradation of the Irish flag. We are compelled to skulk under the protection of England, by a necessity of our own creation; or, if we have not created, we have submitted to it. We are contented to be the subaltern instrument in the hands of our artful and ambitious and politic sister, without one ray of generous national pride beaming forth to light us on to our honor and our interest. We raise the lofty temple of her glory, but we cannot, or we dare not, inscribe our name on the entablature. Do we not, in the system of her naval arrangements, see the narrow jealousy, and interested caution of England, betray itself in every feature? Where are the docks, the arsenals of Ireland? How many of the British navy have been built in our harbors? Where are the encouragements held out to Irish navigation? What is the fair and liberal and equitable construction laid by Englishmen on the navigation act? We are not to be trusted! we are to be kept in pupilage, without a navy, or the rudiments of a navy, that we may be retained in subjection and dependance on England, and so be compelled to purchase her protection, whenever her interest or her pride may think proper to plunge us into a war.

And this leads me to the last argument for our supporting Great Britain, gratitude for the protection which she affords us.

As this is an argument addressed to a very warm and honorable sentiment, and, therefore, likely to have some weight with Irishmen, who feel much better than they reason, I shall take the liberty to examine it with some attention.

I lay it down, then, as a principle, that no man has a right to lay another, perforce, under an obligation; I mean, to put him in that state that the obligation becomes unavoidable. No man has a right to run me into difficulties, that he may extricate me from them. The original necessity, superinduced by him, leaves him little, if any claim to gratitude for the subsequent service; but his claim will be infinitely weakened, if, in superinducing this necessity, he does me an actual, violent injury. If a man hire a banditti to attack the house of another, and then volunteer the defence of it, I believe it will not be said that the owner is much indebted to him, though his defence should prove successful; but if, in the attack, the house should be burned and the owner robbed of his goods, and sorely wounded into the bargain, I humbly conceive that the subsequent defence, however sincere, makes but a poor atonement for the original attack, and that if any feeling be excited, it should be a very strong and natural resentment. Now, let us see what is the boasted protection of England. When has she ever held it forth that she did not first make it necessary? For her own interest and honor she embarks in war, and drags in this unoffending and unoffended country as a necessary sequel, exposes us to a thousand dangers and difficulties in a cause where we have no hope of profit, or advantage, or glory, for who has heard of the glory of Ireland, merged as it is in that of Great Britain and then she defends us, or perhaps does not defend us, from the resentment of her, not our enemy, and so the mighty debt of gratitude accrues; and we are bound to ruin our commerce and lavish our treasure, and spill our best blood in her quarrel, and still remain her debtor for protection in a war, which she has wantonly and unnecessarily, as to this country, plunged us into. If this be the protection of England, I, for one, could be well content that we were left to our own wisdom to avoid, or our own spirit to support a contest.

VOL. I-43

But what becomes of this famous argument of protection, if it appears, by the infallible testimony of facts, that no such thing exists? What have been the wars that England has embarked in for Irish interests? Her most determined supporters cannot allege one. But, perhaps, they may draw on futurity for the deficiency of experience, and tell us that if we wanted her aid, she would be prompt and willing to afford it. Have we, then, forgot the memorable protection of the last war, when one or two paltry American privateers harassed and plundered our trade with impunity, even in our very ports, and the people of Belfast were told, You have a troop of horse and a company of ❝invalids, and, if that will not do, you may protect yourselves." An answer not easily to be forgiven or forgot, and which, perhaps, England herself would now, were it possible, wish unsaid. What were the armaments equipped to compel Portugal to do us justice, but a very few years since? Did the navy of England appear in the Tagus to demand satisfaction for our woollens seized and detained? No: we were left at last, and not without a long and strenuous opposition from the British Minister in Ireland, to extort justice as we might, for ourselves, by a heavy duty on the wines of Portugal. After this, let us not be told of the protection of England.

I have examined the question in three great views: as a question of strict right, as a question of expediency, and as a question of moral obligation; and, to my apprehension, in every one of the three, war is peremptorily evil for Ireland. If the Spaniards fall by our hands in an unjust war, their deaths are murder; if we seize their property, it is robbery. Let me now submit to your consideration the probable consequences of your refusing your countenance and support to this war, with respect to the two countries, Spain and England.

It may be said that Spain will not consider you as a neutral, though you may call yourselves so. But I say, if you were to address his Majesty, praying him to direct his Ministers to acquaint the Spanish Court with your absolute neutrality, do you think her so unwise a nation as to choose you rather for her enemy than her customer, and so to fling you into the scale of England, already more than a match for her? Do you think that the communication between Spain and Ireland, when the ports of England were closed against her, would not be a source