pledge, that, as these comforts are brought more regularly and constantly within their reach, the want of cleanliness, which now forms but too prominent a part of the national character, will disappear. It is a folly to expect that the reformation of a whole nation can take place suddenly. Put the Irish peasants upon a level with the English-give them the same opportunities of earning certain wages-release them from their dependence upon the caprice of landlords, and the tyranny of middle-men-place within their reach the comforts of which they are at present destitute, but do not expect to find, immediately, in them the same economy and neatness, the same unwearied industry and steady independence of mind, which characterize the English labourer. Can the Ethiopian change his skin? or the leopard his spots? Can the habits which have been the growth of centuries be overcome in a day?

B.

LETTER XII.

FEBRUARY.

I CANNOT agree with your strictures on the national character of the Irish. You are too severe-too much inclined, with nine-tenths of the population of England, to ridicule our virtues, and throw a deeper shade upon our vices than you would feel justified in doing, were you to become acquainted with us, on our native soil.

In no country of Europe is the national character marked by stronger and less variable traits than in Ireland: there ought, therefore, to be little room for dispute on the subject. To the eye of a stranger, the national physiognomy appears most strikingly to pervade all classes; and a singular degree of resemblance is often remarked between the lowest of the sons of Erin and some of the nobles of the land. Without following Lavater into the fanciful regions of theory, we may surely ascribe this similitude to the same cause that produces a similarity in passions and pursuits. Not a virtue is to be found

in the higher ranks, among those to whom you rightly attribute a peculiar fascination of character, which has not its counterpart in the meanest of our mountain cabins; and not a vice is to be met with, in the ragged dress of the peasant which may not also be discovered under the embroidered robes of the wealthy. The vices of the rich are not safe topics of discussion; and to hold the mirror of truth before their eyes, is a dangerous task: yet in candour it must be allowed, that when a vice or folly is common to all classes, the greater share of blame is due to those who have all the power and influence in their own hands.

There is, however, another light in which the faults of the poor Irish may be viewed, and which may, perhaps, help to extenuate them in your eyes more than any recrimination on their superiors. It is the connexion which they bear to their virtues. The affinities of good and evil have frequently been the subject of interesting speculation among metaphysicians and moral philosophers; but nowhere are they more strikingly displayed than in the Irish character.

Take, for example, their indolence (their inveterate laziness, as it has been most unjustly called), which has so long been the object of unsparing in

66

vective from their enemies. I will not defend them against the charge; nor will I attempt to trace back the cause to that want of integrity among their feudal lords, which has too often deprived them of the just reward of their labour. They have sowed, while another has reaped; they have planted, while another has gathered the increase."-But I have no desire to raise a hornet's nest about me. Idle they must be allowed to be; but, tell me, were it not for this indolence, would the sword of rebellion ever find its scabbard ? The successive tribes of whiteboys, thrashers, and riband-men, fill you with horror and dismay; but could you witness the common, every-day sufferings of our poor; could you examine the state of their dwellings, forming a strange melancholy contrast with the luxuries of their richer neighbours; you would express astonishment at the patience with which privations of every kind are borne, rather than wonder that the sufferers should embrace any chance, however desperate, that opens to them the prospect of relief.

In this view of the case, their habitual supineness may be almost regarded as a boon from Heaven, blunting the edge of suffering, which might otherwise prove too acute for human nature to support. Circumstances, it is to be hoped, will soon render this

boon unnecessary; and when they are no longer called upon to bear hunger, cold, and disease, with that unrepining patience which excited your admiration last year, we may hope to see them in possession of those comforts which it only requires a little industry on their part to obtain.

"Sure it was too much trouble entirely," reconciles them to the smoke that darkens their little cabin, and the rain that patters through the unthatched roof; and the same feeling inclines them to lie down and die, when Providence has blasted their potatoe crop, and deprived them of the fruit of their labours. Hard as was the task, it was sometimes necessary to refuse that relief which could not be extended to all in full proportion to their wants; but never was the refusal met by a murmur or a reproach. On one such occasion, "God help us !" was the answer of the poor man, with an expressive movement of his shoulders, "God help us, then, for if your Honour can do nothing for us, there is no one that can." There is something peculiarly touching in this submissive patience; and clamorous and reiterated supplication is much more easily repulsed, than the "God bless you. Sure it can't be helped then!"

There is one family in this neighbourhood, who