subject, and a real slave; and his children, the heirs, perhaps of his toils, perhaps of his talents, certainly of his disqualifications-can you wonder he is violent? He sees every pretended obstacle to his emancipation vanished; Catholic Europe your ally, the Bourbon on the throne, the Emperor a captive, the Pope a friend, the aspersions on his faith disproved by his allegiance to you against, alternately, every Catholic potentate in Christendom, and he feels himself branded with hereditary degradation-can you wonder, then, that he is violent? He petitioned humbly; his tameness was construed into a proof of apathy. He petitioned boldly; his remonstrance was considered as an impudent audacity. He petitioned in peace; he was told it was not the time. He petitioned in war; he was told it was not the time. A strange interval, a prodigy in politics, a pause between peace and war, which appeared to be just made for him, arose; I allude to the period between the retreat of Louis and the restoration of Buonaparte; he petitioned then, and he was told it was not the time. Oh, shame! shame! shame! I hope he will petition no more to a parliament so equivocating. However, I am not sorry they did so equivocate, because I think they have suggested one common remedy for the grievances of both countries, and that remedy is, a REFORM OF THAT PARLIAMENT. Without that, I plainly see, there is no hope for Ireland, there is no salvation for England; they will act towards you as they have done towards us; they will admit your reasoning, they will ad

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mire your eloquence, and they will prove their sincerity by a strict perseverance in the impolicy you have exposed, and the profligacy you have deprecated. Look to England at this moment. Το what a state have they not reduced her! Over this vast island, for whose wealth the winds of Heaven seemed to blow, covered as she once was with the gorgeous mantle of successful agriculture, all studded over with the gems of art and manufacture, there is now scarce an object but industry in rags, and patience in despair: the merchant without a ledger, the fields without a harvest, the shops without a customer, the Exchange deserted, and the Gazette crowded, from the most heartrending comments on that nefarious system, in support of which, peers and contractors, stockjobbers and sinecurists, in short, the whole trained, collared, pampered, and rapacious pack of ministerial beagles, have been, for half a century, in thè most clamorous and discordant uproar! During all this misery how are the pilots of the state employed? Why, in feeding the bloated mammoth of sinecure! in weighing the farthings of some underling's salary! in preparing Ireland for a garrison, and England for a poor-house! in the structure of Chinese palaces! the decoration of dragoons, and the erection of public buildings!!! Oh, it's easily seen we have a saint in the Exchequer ! he has studied Scripture to some purpose! the famishing people cry out for bread, and the scriptural minister gives them stones! Such has been the result of the blessed Pitt system, which amid

oceans of blood, and 800 millions expenditure, has left you, after all your victories, a triumphant dupe, a trophied bankrupt. I have heard before of states ruined by the visitations of Providence, devastated by famine, wasted by fire, overcome by enemies; but never until now did I see a state like England, impoverished by her spoils, and conquered by her successes! She has fought the fight of Europe; she has purchased all its coinable blood; she has subsidized all its dependencies in their own cause; she has conquered by sea, she has conquered by land; she has got peace, and, of course, or the Pitt apostles would not have made peace, she has got her "indemnity for the past, and security for, the future," and here she is, after all her vanity and all her victories, surrounded by desolation, like one of the pyramids of Egypt; amid the grandeur of the desert, full of magnificence and death, at once a trophy and a tomb! The heart of any reflecting man must burn within him, when he thinks that the war thus sanguinary in its operations, and confessedly ruinos in its expenditure, was even still more odious in its principle! It was a war avowedly undertaken for the purpose of forcing France out of her undoubted right of choosing her own monarch; a war which uprooted the very foundations of the English constitution; which libelled the most glorious era in our national annals; which declared tyranny eternal, and announced to the people, amid the thunder of artillery, that, no matter how aggrieved, their only allowable attitude was that of supplication; which, when it

told the French reformer of 1793, that his defeat was just, told the British reformer of 1688, his triumph was treason, and exhibited to history, the terrific farce of a Prince of the House of Brunswick, the creature of the Revolution, OFFERING an human HECATOMB UPON THE GRAVE OF JAMES THE SECOND!! What else have you done? You have succeeded indeed in dethroning Napoleon, and you have dethroned a monarch, who, with all his imputed crimes and vices, shed a splendour around royalty, too powerful for the feeble vision of legitimacy even to bear. He had many faults; I do not seek to palliate them. He deserted his principles; I rejoice that he has suffered. But still let us be generous even in our enmities. How grand was his march! How magnificent his destiny! Say what we will, Sir, he will be the land-mark of our times in the eye of posterity. The goal of other men's speed was his starting-post; crowns were his play-things, thrones his footstool; he strode from victory to victory; his path was "a plane of continued elevations." Surpassing the boast of the too confident Roman, he but stamped upon the earth, and not only armed men, but states and dynasties, and arts and sciences, all that mind could imagine, or industry produce, started up, the creation of enchantment. He has fallen-as the late Mr. Whitbread said, "you made him, and he unmade himself"-his own ambition was his glorious conqueror. He attempted, with a sublime audacity, to grasp the fires of Heaven, and his heathen retribution has been the vulture and the

rock!! I do not ask what you have gained by it, because, in place of gaining any thing, you are infinitely worse than when you commenced the contest! But what have you done for Europe? What have you achieved for man? Have morals been ameliorated? Has liberty been strengthened? Has

any one improvement in politics or philosophy been produced? Let us see how. You have restored to Portugal a Prince of whom we know nothing, except that, when his dominions were invaded, his people distracted, his crown in danger, and all that could interest the highest energies of man at issue, he left his cause to be combated by foreign bayonets, and fled with a dastard précipitation to the shameful security of a distant hemisphere! You have restored to Spain a wretch of even worse than proverbial princely ingratitude; who filled his dungeons, and fed his rack with the heroic remnant that braved war, and famine, and massacre beneath his banners; who rewarded patriotism with the prison, fidelity with the torture, heroism with the scaffold, and piety with the Inquisition; whose royalty was published by the signature of his death-warrants, and whose religion evaporated in the embroidering of petticoats for the Blessed Virgin! You have forced upon France a family to whom misfortune could teach no mercy, or experience wisdom; vindictive in prosperity, servile in defeat, timid in the field, vacillating in the cabinet; suspicion amongst themselves, discontent amongst their followers; their memories tenacious but of the punishments they had pro