accidentally learnt the accusation against the stranger, and proclaims himself the murderer. The deliberations are again disturbed, when the Baron de Valdebourg, who has been miraculously preserved from death, appears, and puts an end to the investigation. The stranger, in an interview with Arthur, informs him that she can never be his; and makes him promise to marry the Lady Izolette, who loves him no less than he loves the stranger. The marriage is concluded; but Arthur feels that his heart is too deeply engaged to the stranger; and his passion is at its height when he learns that she is is the deposed queen of Philip Augustus. In a paroxysm of despair, he tears open his wound; and dies. The queen refuses to reascend the throne, and dies the victim of her passion for Arthur; while the amiable Izolette, who is much more to be pitjed than any one else, retires to a monastery. Thus ends this romance, upon the moral of which the author piques himself not a • the little. It displays,' he says, dangers of passion in a pure and ardent mind which has not learnt to moderate itself; which has disdained the trammels of ordinary life; which is involved in vagueness and idealism; which is lost in contemplative reveries, and of which no religious principle has formed the basis. It shows to what excesses a heart full of virtuous and honourable sentiments may be led, relying only upon itself, and despising acknowledged customs and sacred duties.' The chief fault of this romance is, that it is wanting in all those details which form the chief charm in writings of this description. It is full of that passionate and poetical feeling for which the Vicomte is so remarkable; and we learn with regret, which is, however, tempered by our incredulity, that this is the last romance we are to expect from him. He is going to devote himself to historical, perhaps to poetical, compositions-at least he says so-nous verrons. Lo! the dark page is opened, and we read Could we but mark these lonely and unfriended ones- Hearing or viewing their first burst of sorrow- Or the sire's tearless misery-might we not Turn, and, in utter bitterness of heart, Send forth his slumbering lightnings to consume ROBERT EMMET AND HIS COTEMPORARIES.-NO. III. HAVING spent a few days in admiring the beauties of the county of Wicklow, I made a trip to Dublin to transact some business of my father's. The person on whom I had to call was from home, and, in the absence of all other engagements, I amused myself in strolling through the streets, and viewing the public buildings. From the Castle I was proceeding to St. Patrick's Cathedral, when, in an obscure lane, I met my young friend Mr. Emmet. With that kindness which characterized him he seized my hand, gave it a friendly squeeze, and then inquired if I had dined. Being answered in the negative, he took my arm, and, after walking through several bystreets, he led me into an obscure tavern, and ordered dinner in a pri vate room. I have seldom spent a happier hour, in my life, than I did that evening with Emmet. His manners, his eloquence, and the sincerity, as well as the kindness, which breathed through every thing he said, banished all reserve on my part, and we conversed more like long-tried friends than casual acquaintances. We talked of literature, of London, and of politics. My sentiments regarding Liberty-the goddess he idolized-were warm; and, as I spoke with becoming abhorrence of tyranny, he seemed delighted with my opinions. Before we separated he made me promise to call on him that night at his lodgings; and, when I did so, about eight o'clock, I was agreeably surprised to find the Exile there before me. After supper the conversation took a political turn, and Emmet, whose mind was then filled with the project of liberating his country, began to expatiate on the ease with which IreÎand could throw off the English yoke, and the benefits that would ensue from such a measure. 'Your enthusiasm, my friend,' said I, interrupting him, carries you beyond the bounds of probability; for, in anticipating a revolution in this country, you forget that England calculates on the subjection of Ire land, and that she is able to compel what it is her interest to desire.' That she desires it,' he replied, I have no doubt; but that she is able to compel it I unhesitatingly deny. The belief in England's superior strength has too long prevailed in this kingdom; but is now, happily, beginning to disappear. In comparing the two countries, we must exclude from our estimation every thing but physical strength alone, and then the balance will be entirely in favour of Ireland; for, I believe, it will be readily admitted that she has the greater military population; and, in a struggle for liberty, men only are valuable. It is a matter of arithmetical calculation. Ireland can, in the event of a well-organized revolution, turn into the field between seven and eight hundred thousand effective men-an army certainly more numerous than any force England could send against her.' 'Admitting your calculation to be correct,' I returned, you are not to deny the superiority of disciplined troops over rebel numbers. An army of fifty thousand men would soon rout your invincible phalanx.' . 6 The time has passed, my dear sir,' he rejoined, when such an exploded notion found credence among mankind. In a barbarous age, when two armies drew up within gun-shot of each other, each serving as an immoveable target for its opponent to fire at, such a belief was natural, because he who possessed a musket had a fearful advantage over the man who had not one. But modern times have a different and more natural mode of warfare; personal prowess now, as in periods of antiquity, is likely to be victorious; and all necessary discipline can be learned in a very few days. A man does not necessarily acquire either superior courage or address from the colour of his coat; and a soldier with a fixed bayonet has no advantage over a fierce peasant with a well-tempered pike. Almost every victory of modern times has been gained by coming to close action; and that mode, to which a well-regulated army is indebted for success, is as available to a determined band of freemen as to any hired troops in Europe. 'But, as different animals have different modes of attack and defence, an insurgent army has a discipline of its own, recommended by reason, and sanctioned by experience. With walled towns and close garrisons they have nothing to do: the hills of their country serve them as places of retreat; marshes, rivers, and lakes, are their best bastions; while defiles afford them opportunities of attack, and woods and valleys serve them as places of ambush. The face of nature solicits the oppressed to regain their freedom; and, certainly, no country on the globe has so many invitations to revolt as our own. Scarcely a mile, from one extremity of the island to the other, in which an hostile army could not be successfully harassed, and, if needful, successfully opposed. To this may be added, that an Irish insurgent army would materially differ from a similar one in any other kingdom of Europe; for nearly every peasant, and certainly every man above the rank of a peasant, is intimately acquainted with the use of fire-arms. Those near the sea-shore (and those are a large portion) are excellent marksmen; while the inhabitants of mountains, and the neighbourhoods of bogs, lakes, and marshes, are expert fowlers. The Wexford insurgents, in the late rebellion, gave a proof of their abilities; and showed that the peasantry of Ireland, when aroused, are nothing inferior to the best disciplined troops in Europe.' I know it,' interrupted the Exile, for I witnessed their skill in bringing down an enemy; and I must confess that, had they leaders of experience, they were nothing inferior, man for man, to any force that might be brought against them.' There is always a deficiency,' said I, in some part, that renders every effort of the remainder abortive. Out of a hundred revolts, scarcely one has been successful.' 'Pardon me,' said Emmet, if I set you right; for history furnishes us with few instances of failure where a nation has been unanimous. It is giving the enemies of man a new weight, to add to the burden of oppression, by dignifying pigmy insurrections and partial rebellions with the name of open revolt. They should rather be called sanguinary riots: and, thus reduced to their proper level, their ghosts might not be summoned from oblivious neglect to scare mankind from an assertion of their rights. Instances of national resuscitation are neither few nor unfrequent. Tyranny was expelled from Rome by the rebellion of the people; and Switzerland and the Netherlands are memorials of successful revolts. In our own day America has shown what a few thousand peasants could accomplish when actuated by a love of liberty. Ireland is superior in numbers to any of these; equals them in address and courage; and is stimulated by wrongs greater than have been experienced by all these together. Soldiers are but men; and, generally, the most imbecile of men. Let the people be taught to despise the glare and glitter of polished arms, and the terror they are wont to inspire will be converted into objects of ridicule and contempt. Happily an opinion prevails in Ireland that a soldier is an inferior mortal; and that three hundred athletic peasants would be equal to a regiment of a thousand men. I don't say that this opinion is correct; but it must be admitted that, in case of a rising, it would be of infinite service, as tending to inspire confidence in the insurgents, and contempt for their enemies-two things that materially conduce to victory. 'Leaders, in a harassing war, would be easily procured; for the sagacity of an unlettered peasant might serve for the purpose. Who does not remember the servant-boy at Oulard, whose advice was followed by the destruction of a whole regiment?— Great occasions produce great men; and generals are formed in the study as well as in the camp. The Catholics are not now what they formerly were intelligenee is diffused; thousands of them are in the British army; and every man of these would desert on the first opportunity, if 1 there were a hope of their countrymen being successful; for the amor patria is not extinguished by the imposition of the military oath.' All this is very plausible,' I returned, over a tumbler of punch; but saying and doing are two things. While your rebel thousands would be cutting off one regiment, the British navy would be landing twenty. Money is power; and, while England has an Exchequer, she can easily procure soldiers. A host of Germans, as in Ninety-eight, could be landed on your shore; and, if needful, the Autocrat of Russia would furnish twenty or thirty thousand 'Cossacks.' 'Oppression,' replied Emmet, perpetuated by knavery, is to be removed only by prudence. There is a season (said the wise man) for all things; and a time for sowing the seed of disaffection as well as sowing the seed of plants. Tyranny is a monster that is to be attacked only in the weakest parts; and experience tells us that the Irish Government is most feeble when England is engaged in war. In Eighty-two, Ireland obtained from Great Britain all she demanded; because her oppressors, being unable to oppose, were compelled to concede. Such opportunities of casting off the yoke of foreign domination have occurred, and will perpetually present themselves to the people of Ireland; for it is one of the ways of Providence, for which mankind should be grateful, that no nation need endure permanent oppression, as the means of freedom are, in the revolution of events,* from time to time, in the power of the people. Your dreaded armies of barbarous Cossacks and German boors could not, in time of war, be spared to murder the people of Ireland; nor would the British navy be at leisure to convey such unworthy freight. Take the present time, for example, (and such a time will often occur,) and where are the forces, even for English money, to awe the people The loyal part of the people,' said I, would volunteer in defence of their king and laws. Many Catholics, and nearly all the Protestants, would support the army.' Loyalty in Ireland,' rejoined Emmet, is a very scarce commodity; and, when brought to the test, I believe the greater part of what is professed would be found, like the shield of Martinus, to be a deceit. In the event of rebellion, few Catholics would be trusted; and the Protestants, when opposed to the people, would be only like an infant in the grasp of a giant. But it would be libelling the independent Protestants of the kingdom to suppose they do not feel the degradation of their country with as much quickness as any other body of men, or doubting, for a moment, that they would not lend their assistance in achieving her liberty. The base and grovelling wretches who feed on the tainted carcass of corruption might, indeed, make a show of resistance; but thousands of Irish Protestants, and the great body of the Northern Presbyterians, would fly to the standard of independence, and unite with their Catholic countrymen in resisting the enemies of freedom. Can this admit of a doubt, when we recollect that these very men were the originators and fomentors of the last rebellion?' But did not,' I asked, the leaders of the last rebellion calculate on foreign assistance?' And so may all future leaders,' returned Emmet. I know the opinion of the French Consul on that subject, and have no hesitation in asserting that another Hoche would be sent out, were there once a rising in Ireland. Where then would be the chance of England holding this country in subjection? The very effort would be her own ruin; for, if she refused to acknowledge the independence of this island, an united Irish and French army would, in less than * ‹ The people, generally ill treated, and contrary to right, will be ready, upou all occasions, to ease themselves of a burden that sits heavy upon them: they will wish and seek for the opportunity, which, in the change, weakness, and accidents, of human affairs, seldom delays long to offer itself.'-LOCKF on Government. VOL. I.-No. 4. Ꮓ six months, sit before the gates of London.' 'I must say you are an enthusiast, Mr. Emmet,' said I; and, if a Cockney heard your statement, how he would shake his sides with laughter!' 'Ridicule,' rejoined Emmet, is but a poor weapon against the force of reason. The Grecians despised Thebes; but Thebes humbled both Athens and Sparta. Rome contemned those she called barbarians; but, behold, those barbarians ultimately destroyed Rome! The history of the world is full of such instructive lessons; and those who will not learn wisdom from the volume of experience must expect to endure the consequence of folly. England once held the same opinion of America that she does now of Ireland; and no doubt she will, one day, be made to acknowledge the latter as erroneous as the former; for Ireland is now nearly twice as strong as America was at the time of the revolution.' Even if he wished it, he could not; for the people who arose to shake off one yoke would never submit to endure another; and Ireland is fully able to expel the most potent power in the world who should attempt to enslave her. Fashion has too long coincided with interest to treat this country with indifference; but, the moment she compares her strength with that of other nations, she will blush for her present abject condition. Of the twenty states of Europe, she is inferior only to four,† equal to four others, and superior to the remaining twelve. § I will not laud either the courage or enterprise of my countrymen; but their greatest enemy must admit that they possess these qualities in an eminent degree; and these qualities are all that is wanted to make a nation independent.' And if separated from England to-morrow,' said I, ' Ireland must resort to some other country for what this island does not produce.' 6 There is no doubt,' returned the Exile, but, with foreign assistance, Ireland might separate herself from England; but I am very far from regarding such an event as desirable, for then we should only change masters; as those who came as friends would remain to domineer, and, in place of being subject to England, we should be subject to France.' 'Such an opinion,' returned Emmet, is prevalent in England, and has found some advocates in Ireland; but it is quite erroneous. America was assisted by France without being enslaved. The French never contemplated such a thing; for, if they had, Ireland was long since lost to England: and I know Buonaparte intended to make this country an independent republic* at the tiine Hoche was sent here. The friendship of Ireland would be much better than her possession to a foreign power; and there are so many reasons for making this apparent, that no Continental sovereign would ever attempt holding this nation in subjection. she That is,' replied Emmet, belongs to the great family of nations, and must resort to commerce; and so must all countries. But, though a wall of brass, as Berkley said, were raised round Ireland, she could maintain twice her present inhabitants; and that's more than can be said of the sister kingdom. Speculators have detected our want of various articles; but they might as well say England cannot maintain her independence because she is obliged to go to China for tea, and to Russia for hemp. Away with such objections-they deserve no answer: for, if nations could not be free without possessing within themselves all a nation wants, no country, except China, could be independent. If ever Providence,' he continued, 'destined any spot on this globe for the residence of a pure republic, it was Ireland. Rousseau | selected Corsica; but, had he extended his vision from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic, he would have discovered in this country all he *I would have separated Ireland from England; the former I would have made an independent republic.'-NAPOLEON.- Vide Voice from St. Helena.' + Russia, Austria, France, England. Prussia, Spain, Turkey, Naples. § Sweden and Norway, Denmark, Portugal, Netherlands, Saxony, Hanover, Bavaria, Switzerland, Sardinia, Tuscany, Popedom, Parma. Du Contrat Social. |