England. That universal and almost over-refined industry and culture disappear here, and with it, alas! English neatness.' The grand features of the scenery of Dublin, the bay, the distant mountains of Wicklow, the hill of Howth, the amphitheatrical mass of houses, the quays, and the harbour, struck him as highly beautiful. The people are thus described:

'The Phoenix Park, the Prater of Dublin, in no respect yields to that of Vienna, whether we regard its expanse of beautiful turf for riding, long avenues for driving, or shady walks. I found it rather empty; but the streets through which I returned, full of movement and bustle. The dirt, the poverty, and the ragged clothing of the common people often exceed all belief. Nevertheless, they seem always good-natured, and sometimes have fits of merriment in the open streets, which border on madness. Whiskey is generally at the bottom of this. The streets are crowded with beggar-boys, who buzz around one like flies, incessantly offering their services. Notwithstanding their extreme poverty, you may trust implicitly to their honesty; and wretched, lean, and famished as they appear, you see no traces of melancholy on their open, good-natured countenances. They are the best bred and most contented beggar-boys in the world. Such a little fellow will run by your horse's side for hours, hold it when you alight, go on any errand you like; and is not only contented with the few pence you give him, but full of gratitude, which he expresses with Irish hyperbole. The Irishman appears generally more patient than his neighbours, but somewhat degraded by long slavery. Vol. I. pp. 163, 4.

In many points of view, this nation is really semi-barbarous. The universal want of decent clothing among the lower classes, even on festivals; their utter inability to resist ardent spirits, so long as they have a penny in their pockets; the sudden and continual wild quarrels and national pitched battles with the shillelah, (a murderous sort of stick, which every man keeps hidden under his rags,) in which hundreds take part in a minute, and do not desist till several are left dead or wounded on the field; the frightful war-whoop which they set up on these occasions; the revenge for an affront or injury, which is cherished and inherited by whole villages:-on the other hand, the lighthearted carelessness which never thinks of the coming day; the heartfelt merriment, forgetful of all want and suffering; the kind hospitality which ungrudgingly shares the last morsel; the unreserved cordiality with the stranger who makes any advances to them; the natural fluency and eloquence which they have ever at command ;-all are characteristics of a half-civilized people.' Ib. pp. 227, 8.

We found the ragged potatoe-eating people every where gay and joyous. They always beg, to be sure; but they beg laughing, with wit, humour, and the drollest expressions, without importunity, and without rancune if they get nothing. Most striking, amid such singular poverty, is the not less singular honesty of these people.'

ĺb. p. 262. The natural grace of the Irish peasant-women, who are often truly beautiful, is as surprising as their dress, or rather their want of dress; for, though it was very cold on these hills, the whole clothing of the

young woman consisted of a large very coarse straw hat, and literally two or three rags of the coarsest sackcloth suspended under the breast by a piece of cord, and more than half disclosing her handsome person. Her conversation was cheerful, sportive, and witty, perfectly unembarrassed, and in a sense free; but you would fall into a great error, if you inferred from that any levity or looseness of conduct. The women of this class in Ireland are, almost universally, extremely chaste, and still more disinterested.' Vol. I. Vol. I. p. 170.

In a subsequent portion of the Letters, we meet with the following parallel between the Irish and the Slavonian peasantry of Germany.

The melodies which were sung had a striking resemblance to those of the Wendish nations. This is one of the many features of similarity which strike me, between those nations and the Irish. Both manufacture, and have an exclusive taste for, spirit distilled from corn; both live almost entirely on potatoes; both have the bagpipe; both are passionate lovers of singing and dancing, and yet their national airs are of a melancholy character; both are oppressed by a foreign nation, and speak a gradually expiring language, which is rich and poetical, though possessed of no literature; both honour the descendants of their ancient princes, and cherish the principle, that what is not renounced is not utterly lost; both are superstitious, cunning, and greatly given to exaggeration; rebellious where they can, but somewhat cringing to decided and established power; both like to go ragged, even when they have the means of dressing better; and lastly, spite of their miserable living, both are capable of great exertion, though they prefer indolence and loitering; and both alike enjoy a fertile soil, which the Wendish phrase calls, "the roast meat of poor people ". The better qualities which distinguish the Irish, are theirs alone.'

Vol. II. pp. 49, 50.

His German Highness paid a visit to Ireland's evil genius, then residing in his solitary fortress in the most desert region of Ireland. We have the following portrait of the great Agitator and his Confessor.

Daniel O'Connell is indeed no common man,-though the man of the commonalty. His power is so great, that at this moment it only depends on him to raise the standard of rebellion from one end of the island to the other. He is, however, too sharp-sighted, and much too sure of attaining his end by safer means, to wish to bring on any such violent crisis. He has certainly shewn great dexterity in availing himself of the temper of the country at this moment, legally, openly, and in the face of the Government, to acquire a power scarcely inferior to that of the sovereign; indeed, though without arms or armies, in some instances far surpassing it :-for how would it have been possible for His Majesty George IV. to withhold 40,000 of his faithful Irishmen for three days from whisky-drinking; which O'Connell actually accomplished in the memorable Clare election. The enthusiasm of

the people rose to such a height, that they themselves decreed and inflicted a punishment for drunkenness. The delinquent was thrown into a certain part of the river, and held there for two hours, during which time he was made to undergo frequent submersions.

‹ The next day I had fuller opportunity of observing O'Connell. On the whole, he exceeded my expectations. His exterior is attractive; and the expression of intelligent good-nature, united with determination and prudence, which marks his countenance, is extremely winning. He has, perhaps, more of persuasiveness than of genuine, large, and lofty eloquence; and one frequently perceives too much design and manner in his words. Nevertheless, it is impossible not to follow his powerful arguments with interest, to view the martial dignity of his carriage without pleasure, or to refrain from laughing at his wit. It is very certain that he looks much more like a general of Napoleon's, than a Ďublin advocate. This resemblance is rendered much more striking by the perfection with which he speaks French, having been educated at the Jesuits' Colleges at Douai and St. Omer. His family is old, and was probably one of the great families of the land. His friends, indeed, maintain that he springs from the ancient kings of Kerry, an opinion which no doubt adds to the reverence with which he is regarded by the people. He himself told me,-and not without a certain pretension,-that one of his cousins was Comte O'Connell, and "cordon rouge" in France, and another a baron, general, and chamberlain to the Emperor of Austria; but that he was the head of the family. It appeared to me, that he was regarded by the other members of it with almost religious enthusiasm. He is about fifty years old, and in excellent preservation, though his youth was rather wild and riotous.

'Among other things, he became notorious, about ten years ago, for a duel he fought. The Protestants, to whom his talents early made him formidable, set on a certain Desterre,-a bully and fighter by profession,-to ride through all the streets of Dublin with a huntingwhip, which, as he declared, he intended to lay on the shoulders of the king of Kerry. The natural consequence was a meeting the next morning, in which O'Connell lodged a bullet in Desterre's heart. Desterre's shot went through his hat.

....

'His desire for celebrity seemed to me boundless..... He has received from Nature an invaluable gift for a party-leader; a magnificent voice, united to good lungs and a strong constitution. His understanding is sharp and quick, and his acquirements out of his profession not inconsiderable. With all this, his manners are, as I have said, winning and popular: although somewhat of the actor is perceivable in them, they do not conceal his very high opinion of himself, and are occasionally tinged by what an Englishman would call "vulgarity." Where is there a picture entirely without shade!

'Another interesting man, the real though not ostensible head of the Catholics, was present; Father L'Estrange, a friar, and O'Connell's confessor. He may be regarded as the real founder of that Catholic Association so often derided in England, but which, by merely negative powers, by dexterous activity in secret, and by universally organizing and training the people to one determinate end, attained a power over

them as boundless as that of the hierarchy in the middle ages; with this difference, that the former strove for light and liberty, the latter for darkness and slavery. This is another outbreak of that second great revolution, which, solely by intellectual means, without any admixture of physical force, is advancing to its accomplishment; and whose simple but resistless weapons are public discussion and the press. L'Estrange is a man of philosophical mind and unalterable calmness. His manners are those of an accomplished gentleman, who has traversed Europe in various capacities, has a thorough knowledge of mankind, and with all his mildness cannot always conceal the sharp traces of great acuteness. I should call him the ideal of a well-intentioned Jesuit.' Vol. I. pp. 333-337.

In a note we are told, that all the Catholic children in Ire' land are carefully instructed, and can at least read, while the 'Protestant are often utterly ignorant.' We cannot doubt that the Author was told this: that he should have swallowed the impudent falsehood, is a proof how much credulity is generally associated with scepticism, and how powerful and inveterate are the prejudices of the liberal. But we cannot find the same excuse for the monstrous allegation, that the English, like true Turks, keep the intellects of their wives and daughters in as narrow 'bounds as possible, with a view of securing their absolute and exclusive property in them'; and that in general their success is perfect'. This from a German, is somewhat too bad; and even the Translator is fain to attempt an awkward apology for his Author.

In the second volume, we are introduced to the leaders of the Catholic Association in groupe.

The three most prominent speakers are O'Connell, Shiel, and Lawless. Mr. Fin and Mr. Ford also spoke well, and with great dignity of manner. Shiel is a man of the world, and has even more ease in society than O'Connell: but as a speaker, he appeared to me too affected, too artificial; and all he said, too much got up; his manner was theatrical, and there was no real feeling in the "delivery " of his speech, as the English expressively call it. I am not surprised that, in spite of his undoubted talents, he is so much less popular than O'Connell. Both are very vain, but the vanity of O'Connell is more frank, more confiding, and sooner satisfied; that of Shiel, irritable, sore, and gloomy. The one is therefore, with reference to his own party, steeped in honey; the other in gall; and the latter, though contending for the same cause, is evidently jealous of his colleague, whom he vainly thinks to surpass. Mr. L s is the Don Quixote of the Association. His fine head and white hair, his wild but noble dignity, and his magnificent voice, excite an expectation of something extraordinary when he rises: but the speech, which commences in an earnest tone, soon falls into the most incredible extravagancies, and sometimes into total absurdity, in which friend and foe are assailed with equal fury. He is therefore little heeded; laughed at when he

rages like King Lear, unmindful of his audience, and of all that is passing around him. The dominant party, however, use him to make a noise when they want him. To-day he outdid himself to such a degree in the flight he took, that he suddenly erected the standard of Deism in the midst of the Catholic, arch-Catholic Association. Perhaps, indeed, this was only done to give occasion to O'Connell to call him indignantly to order, and to bring in a pious tirade; for on the orator's rostrum as on the tub, on the throne as in the puppet-show booth, clap-traps are necessary. Vol. II. pp. 118, 119.

On turning over the leaf, we light upon an atheistic defence of suicide, as an expedient much to be preferred to a loss of selfrespect. Judas Iscariot must, in our Author's opinion, have acted like a philosopher in hanging himself. But we have already intimated our resolution to refrain from comment upon the impious ribaldry which is perpetually spirting itself upon the reader, and marring, the pleasure he might otherwise have enjoyed in accompanying the Prince on his Irish Tour. After visiting Galway, Cork, and Cashel, his Highness returned to Dublin, crossed the Channel to Holyhead,-explored the beauties of the Wye,-visited Chepstow, Bristol, Bath, Salisbury; and after a short stay in the metropolis, returned to his half-native soil' of France. Wishing to part with him in good humour, we shall make room for one more specimen of his skill in description. It is no small advantage to the Wye', he remarks, that two ' of the most beautiful ruins in the world lie on its banks'; and he expresses his admiration, that so many Englishmen should ' travel thousands of miles, to fall into ecstasies at beauties of a very inferior order to these.'

.

In the centre of a deep basin, encompassed by mountains of various forms, we descried immediately above the silver stream, the celebrated ruins of Tintern Abbey. It would be difficult to imagine a more favourable situation, or a more sublime ruin. The entrance to it seems as if contrived by the hand of some skilful scene-painter to produce the most striking effect. The church, which is large, is still almost perfect the roof alone and a few of the pillars are wanting. The ruins have received just that degree of care which is consistent with the full preservation of their character; all unpicturesque rubbish which could obstruct the view, is removed, without any attempt at repair or embellishment. A beautiful smooth turf covers the ground, and luxuriant creeping plants grow amid the stones. The fallen ornaments are laid in picturesque confusion, and a perfect avenue of thick ivy-stems climb up the pillars and form a roof over-head. The better to secure the ruin, a new gate of antique workmanship, with iron ornaments, is put up. When this is suddenly opened, the effect is most striking and surprising. You suddenly look down the avenue of ivy-clad pillars, and see their grand perspective lines closed, at a distance of three hundred feet, by a magnificent window eighty feet high and thirty broad: through its intricate and beautiful tracery you see a wooded mountain,