THE BENSHEE. By the Author of 'Glean-dalach.' He heard the Benshee's boding scream.'-ScoTT. Away, away, the horseman rides; Now, rolling in the troubled sky, The thunder's loudly crashing; In sheets of foam the mountain flood On the steep bank one moment stood One desperate bound the courser gave, And, snorting, stemmed the boiling wave A fleeter horse than Desmond reined His scattered train in eager haste Far, far, behind him ride; Alone he's crossed the mountain waste, To meet his promised bride. The clouds across the moon's dim form Are fast and faster sailing, And sounds are heard on the sweeping storm At first low moanings seemed to die Beneath an oak, whose branches bare With wringing hands and streaming hair, To pass that oak in vain he tried; Though furious 'gainst his panting side The moon, by driving clouds o'ercast, And louder than the tempest blast And, when the moon unveiled once more, Then nought was seen save the branches hoar That shrieking form had vanished From out that lonely place; And, like a dreamy vision, fled, Earl Desmond gazed-his bosom swelled Then on his fiery way he held, His courser madly goading For well that wailing voice he knew, Beneath his wearied courser's hoof He passed beneath the gloomy gate, No vassals in the court-yard wait The hearth is cold in the lonely hall, But all within is dark and drear, No sights or sounds of gladness- Then slowly swelled the keener's strain Aghast he stood, bereft of power, His fears confirmed,--his beauteous flower- H. K. ROBERT EMMET AND HIS COTEMPORARIES.-NO. IV. The English and Irish Peasantry compared.-Emmet's Opinion of the real Cause of Irish Misery. NEXT morning, while at breakfast, I received a visit from my young friend. He appeared somewhat embarrassed; and, after alluding to our conversation of the preceding night, intimated that he did not wish any person should be informed of his political opinions. In fact,' he continued, I am peculiarly situated. My connexions, my brother, and my own incautious conduct while at college, has subjected me to certain suspicions groundless to be sure, but calculated to inconvenience me, should the government hear of my being in the country.' Then they do not know of it?' I interrupted with some surprise. Certainly not,' he returned.Some time ago I thought it prudent to visit France, and have not long returned from Bruxelles. Business of a peculiar nature has brought me back for a short time; and, to avoid suspicion, I have been under the necessity of assuming another name—a thing I despise, but which circumstances have rendered absolutely necessary. The unfortunate are not to be judged by ordinary rules, and I hope Mr. K -n does not consider me less worthy of his friendship from the nature of my situation.' I replied in the negative. Then,' he resumed, I beg you may give me a proof of it, by calling at my country-house-lodgings, I mean -near Rathfarnham, on your way out of town. Your friend, Mr. J—, as we call him, the Exile, has promised, if you accompany him, to dine with me. Inquire for Mr. Ellis; our friend knows the house.' Having promised to dine with him, he took his departure; and, about three o'clock, the Exile and I set out for Rathfarnham. On our way, I was astonished to see such a number of the poorer classes loitering about the doors of public houses, or leaning over the battlements of every bridge we passed. It is no wonder,' said I to my friend, that the Irish are miserable, since they are in such a want of employment.' We must not confound,' he replied, the want of employment with the absence of employment; and, to prevent a confusion of ideas, let us call it idleness, a word that clearly implies the condition of a portion of our population. Idleness is a relative term, and has various significations attached to it in different countries, and under different circumstances. In the east, to be free from toil is to be comparatively happy; and to be exempt from labour is every where desired, though not every where attainable; for it depends solely on the facility, or difficulty, which man has in procuring subsistence. "The natural state of the body, if not death, as some have it, is certainly a kind of torpor which is averse to exertion, because every exertion is attended with a certain portion of pain, the dread of which is only overcome by the application of some excitement, and then the degree of activity depends upon the degree of stimulus that forces us into action; but when there is no stimulus there is no exertion. The merchant, when his desire of wealth is satisfied, flies from the bustle of business to the indolence of tranquillity; and the tradesman contemplates, as the reward of all his toils, ease and retirement. Even the poor labourer welcomes Sunday, because Sunday is a day of rest. So natural, and so powerful, is the wish of mankind to be exempt from laborious exertion, that he is universally accounted the happiest who has the least need of application to business, either bodily or mental. "When first I read the theories of philosophers, who never reflectedand the journals of travellers, who described what they had never seenI was of opinion that it was possible for a high state of moral civilization and good government to subdue this universal propensity of our nature, and make man enamoured of industry, merely for the sake of employment, independent of the hope of gain. The self-gratifying commendations of Englishmen, and the unthinking encomiums of those of my own country who had visited that land of manufactures, tended in no small degree to confirm this hasty conclusion. Filled with these sentiments, I had an exalted opinion of Englishmen and English civilization: and, when I landed at Bristol, I could not imagine myself in a British city, it differed so much from what I had expected. My journey to London, and subsequent residence in that metropolis, convinced me that I had formed an erroneous estimate; for I found men such as they are found every where, some extremely rich, and others extremely poor; some very good, and some very vicious: but I never found one inclined to work who was not impelled by either present necessity or the distant hope of being one day able to remain idle. 'An Englishman certainly works hard-perhaps, in some cases, harder than an Irishman; and why? because from the low price of labour, and the high price of the necessaries of life, he toils for the most cruel of taskmasters-Want. He has no alternative but unremitted labour or the workhouse; for a week's idleness would ruin a whole family. If you want the key to English industry-it is absolute necessity. Habit, perhaps, has made labour in that country less dreaded than in others; but circumstances have certainly made it more imperative than in any nation I have ever seen or read of: and, if a modern philosopher* be right in asserting that half an hour's daily toil, from every person in the community, would amply supply all the rational wants of mankind, we must refuse to applaud that state of society which compels two-thirds of its members to perpetual labour.' 'But if employment,' I interrupted, can be always procured in such a quantity as to supply the poor man's wants, I should pronounce him comparatively happy, whatever may be the arguments of philosophers.' evident, even to a stranger, who reads the reports on the poor-laws. The magistrate has instructions to procure employment, and has power to compel the vagrant to work: yet every eighth labouring man in England is idle; and idle, because neither the influence of authority, nor the dread of hunger, can provide him employment. Pauperism in England+ devours an annual sum that would be adequate to the maintenance of every agricultural labourer in Ireland in the common diet of the country; and we may form some idea of British misery by recollecting that the population of London, vast as it is, is not equal to the number of those who receive parochial relief in the country.' You cannot persuade me to this,' I rejoined, for it shows no such thing. Warm clothing and good eating must have the advantage of cold and hunger, unless you can make us forego all our ideas of comfort and happiness.' 6 Mere animal happiness,' replied the Exile, consists in the gratification of desires; and, of course, must be greatest where the smallest number of desires are excited, and the means of gratification most easily obtained. He that can exchange six months' labour for an annual supply of those necessaries he has learned to esteem, and which he finds sufficient for all his wants, must be more happy than he who toils through the twelve months for a scanty portion of daily nutriment; and the difference must be still greater if the first labour under no apprehension; while the latter, like the guest of the tyrant, is in continual dread that what is always suspended over him may, at any hour, descend; for, when the labour of the That every man in England,' replied the Exile, who seeks employment, does not find it, must be *Godwin's Political Justice.' ↑ In 1803 the amount of poor-rates was 10,000,0001. day is to supply its wants, we must suppose that, where there is no employment, distress and its concomitants must prevail. 'These two cases exactly apply to England and Ireland. In the former a great portion of the labouring class is employed in manufactures; and, consequently, subject to the fluctuations of trade. They live. in continual uncertainty-an evil only surpassed by the stings of immediate want. Add to this, that custom has made animal food the necessary diet of all; and, by comparing the price of meat with the price of labour, we shall find that it must always be scanty. In Ireland is found the reverse of this. The people are agriculturists, and agriculturists in a peculiar sense; for nearly every man has a farm; and, though the English monopolist may feel indignant at the prostitution of the term, I must tell him that the Irish cottier's farm, whatever may be its size, supplies its owner with as much as he derives from his thousand acres the means of subsistence, and probably as large a quantity of real enjoyment. Our peasantry, in which class may be comprised all our working people, are frequently idle, but seldom hungry. Potatoes are generally so abundant, as to be converted to manure*; and, though the crop may fail in some counties, the deficiency is made up by the quantity in others. Common industry must place every man beyond the possibility of want; and, in fact, so little exertion is requisite for this purpose, that, like the bees in Hindostan, abundance has made the people indolently careless, while in some places they have neglected making any provision for an approaching winter, when they have found the former one had passed off without causing any distress. The occasional sufferings of the peasantry, which are always local, have, for this last century, originated in superabundance; for a year of extraordinary plenty has generally been succeeded by a year of privation. This is a fact which clearly shows that the principal evil to be complained of consists in the facility with which the necessaries of life are obtained.' But you forget,' said I, that the food of the Irish peasant is nothing but potatoes, diversified with the occasional luxury of bacon and oatmeal.' The palate,' replied the Exile, should never be allowed to decide upon what is fit for the stomach. Meat may be more grateful than potatoes and oatmeal; but is not more wholesome, nor does it appear necessaryt for either promoting health or prolonging life, the two legitimate objects of all nourishment. The appearance and habits of the Irish peasantry declare that their simple diet is not only nutritive, but satisfactory. Their athletic and active forms are a sufficient proof of the first, while their contented and cheerful countenances, as well as their full flow of animal spirits, sufficiently demonstrate the latter. The general complaint of the English projectors, who have visited Ireland, is the aversion of the peasantry to constant and regular labour; another proof, if proof be needed, that they are neither under the necessity of working hard, nor dissatisfied with the common diet of the country; for, amongst all the stimulants that impel men to labour, the apprehension of want is the greatest. Whenever the peasantry feel this necessity, they quickly forego their indolent habits; and, like all persons similarly circumstanced, apply themselves to industry §: but the * This I have seen myself; and the English reader may form some idea of the abundance of potatoes in Ireland, when he is told that a common beggar will not accept them as charity. It may indeed be doubted whether butchers' meat any where a necessary of life. Grain, and other vegetables, with the help of milk, cheese, and butter, or oil, where butter is not to be had, it is known from experience, can, without any butchers' meat, afford the most plentiful, the most wholesome, the most nourishing, and the most invigorating diet.'-Wealth of Nations. See the Irrigator's account in Mr. Wakefield's work, Vol. I. It is not,' says a Report of the Southern District, published in the distressful year of 1822, uncommon to find labourers at the public works, who travel three or four VOL. I.-No. 5. 2 D |