Nuts And Nutcrackers Part 9

But why pursue a theme whose benefits are self-evident, and come home to every bosom in the vast community. It is one of the wants of our age, and we hope ere long to see the "fathers" as much respected in Clerkenwell or College-street, as ever they were in Clongowes or Maynooth.

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A NUT FOR "POLITICAL ECONOMISTS."

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This is the age of political economists and their nostrums. Every newspaper teems with projects for the amelioration of our working cla.s.ses, and the land is full of farming societies, temperance unions, and a hundred other Peter Purcellisms, to improve its social condition; the charge to make us

"Great, glorious, and free,"

remaining with that estimable and irreproachable individual who tumbles in Lower Abbey-street.

The Frenchman's horse would, it is said, have inevitably finished his education, and accomplished the faculty of existing without food, had he only survived another twenty-four hours. Now, the condition of Ireland is not very dissimilar, and I only hope that we may have sufficient tenacity of life to outlive the numerous schemes for our prosperity and advancement.

Nothing, indeed, can be more singular than the manner of every endeavour to benefit his country. We are poor--every man of us is only struggling; therefore, we are recommended to build expensive poorhouses, and fill them with some of ourselves. We have scarcely wherewithal to meet the ordinary demands of life, and straightway are told to subscribe to various new societies--repeal funds--agricultural clubs--O'Connell tributes--and Mathew testimonials. This, to any short-sighted person, might appear a very novel mode of filling our own pockets. There are one-idea'd people in the world, who can only take up the impression which, at first blush, any subject suggests; they, I say, might fancy that a continued system of donation, unattended by anything like receipt, is not exactly the surest element of individual prosperity. I hope to be able to controvert this plausible, but shallow theory, and to show--and what a happy thing it is for us--to show that, not only is our poverty the source of our greatest prosperity, but that if by any accident we should become rich, we must inevitably be ruined; and to begin--

Absenteeism is agreed on all hands to be the bane of Ireland. No one, whatever be his party prejudices, will venture to deny this. The high-principled and well-informed country gentleman professes this opinion in common with the illiterate and rabid follower of O'Connell; I need not, therefore, insist further on a proposition so universally acknowledged. To proceed--of all people, none are so naturally absentees as the Irish; in fact, it would seem that one great feature of our patriotism consists in the desire to display, in other lands, the ardent attachment we bear our own. How can we tell Frenchmen, Italians, Germans, Russians, Swedes, and Swiss, how devoted we are to the country of our birth, if we do not go abroad to do so? How can we shed tears as exiles, unless we become so? How can we rail about the wrongs of Ireland and English tyranny, if we do not go among people, who, being perfectly ignorant of both, may chance to believe us? These are the patriotic arguments for absenteeism; then come others, which may be cla.s.sed under the head of "expediency reasons," such as debts, duns, outlawries, &c.

Thirdly, the temptations of the Continent, which, to a certain cla.s.s of our countrymen, are of the very strongest description--Corn Exchange politics, vulgar a.s.sociates, an air of bully, and a voice of brogue, will not form such obstacles to success in Paris, as in Dublin. A man can scarcely introduce an Irish provincialism into his French, and he would be a clever fellow who could accomplish a bull under a twelvemonth. These, then, form the social reasons; and from a short revision of all three, it will be seen that they include a very large proportion of the land--Mr. O'Connell talks of them as seven millions.

It being now proved, I hope, to my reader's satisfaction, that the bent of an Irishman is to go abroad, let us briefly inquire, what is it that ever prevents him so doing? The answer is an easy one. When Paddy was told by his priest that whenever he went into a public-house to drink, his guardian angel stood weeping at the door, his ready reply was, "that if he had a tester he'd have been in too;" so it is exactly with absenteeism; it is only poverty that checks it.

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The man with five pounds in his pocket starts to spend it in England; make it _ten_, and he goes to Paris; _fifteen_, and he's up the Rhine; _twenty_, and Constantinople is not far enough for him! Whereas, if the sum of his wealth had been a matter of shillings, he'd have been satisfied with a trip to Kingstown, a chop at Jude's, a place in the pit, and a penny to the repeal fund; all of which would redound to his patriotism, and the "prosperity of Ireland."

The same line of argument applies to every feature of expense. If we patronise "Irish manufacture," it is because we cannot afford English.

If we like Dublin society, it is upon the same principle; and, in fact, the cheap pleasures of home, form the sheet-anchor of our patriotism, and we are only "guardian angels," because "we have n't a tester."

Away then with any flimsy endeavours to introduce English capital or Scotch industry. Let us persevere in our present habits of mutual dislike, attack, and recrimination; let us interfere with the projects of English civilisation, and forward, by every means in our power, the enlightened doctrines of popery, and the patriotic pastime of parson-shooting, for even in sporting we dispense with a "game license;"

let no influx of wealth offer to us the seduction of quitting home, and never let us feel with our national poet that "Ireland is a beautiful country to live out of."

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A NUT FOR "GRAND DUKES."

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G.o.d help me but I have always looked upon a "grand duke" pretty much in the same light that I have regarded the "Great Lama," that is to say, a very singular and curious object of worship in its native country. How any thing totally dest.i.tute of sovereign attributes could ever be an idol, either for religious or political adoration, is somewhat singular, and after much pains and reflections on the subject, I came to the opinion, that German princes were valued by their subjects pretty much on the principle the Indians select their idols, and knowing men admire thorough-bred Scotch terriers--viz., not their beauty.

Of all the cant this most canting age abounds in, nothing is more repulsive and disgusting than the absurd laudation which travellers pour forth concerning these people, by the very ludicrous blunder of comparing a foreign aristocracy with our own. Now, what is a German grand duke? Picture to yourself a very corpulent, moustached, and befrogged individual, who has a territory about the size of the Phoenix Park, and a city as big and as flourishing as the Blacklock; the expenses of his civil list are defrayed by a chalybeate spring, and the budget of his army by the license of a gambling house, and then read the following pa.s.sage from "Howitt's life in Germany," which, with that admirable appreciation of excellence so eminently their characteristic, the newspapers have been copying this week past--

"You may sometimes see a grand duke come into a country inn, call for his gla.s.s of ale, drink it, pay for it, and go away as unceremoniously as yourself. The consequence of this easy familiarity is, that princes are everywhere popular, and the daily occurrence of their presence amongst the people, prevents that absurd crush and stare at them, which prevails in more luxurious and exclusive countries."

That princes do go into country inns, call for ale, and drink it, I firmly believe; a circ.u.mstance, however, which I put the less value upon, inasmuch as the inn is pretty much like the prince's own house, the ale very like what he has at home, and the innkeeper as near as possible, in breeding, manner, and appearance, his equal. That he _pays_ for the drink, which our author takes pains to mention, excites all my admiration; but I confess I have no words to express my pleasure on reading that "he goes away again," and, as Mr. Howitt has it, "as unceremoniously as yourself," neither stopping to crack the landlord's crown, smash the pewter, break the till, nor even put a star in the looking-gla.s.s over the fire-place, a condescension on his part which leads to the fact, that "princes are everywhere popular."

Now, considering that Mr. Howitt is a Quaker, it is somewhat remarkable the high estimate he entertains of this "grand ducal" forbearance. What he expected his highness to have done when he had finished his drink, I am as much at a loss to conjecture, as what trait we are called upon to admire in the entire circ.u.mstance; when the German prince went into the inn, and knocking three times with a copper krentzer on the counter, called for his choppin of beer, he was exactly acting up to the ordinary habits of his station, as when the Duke of Northumberland, on his arriving with four carriages at the "Clarendon." occupied a complete suite of apartments, and partook of a most sumptuous dinner. Neither more nor less. His Grace of Alnwick might as well be lauded for his ducal urbanity as the German prince for his, each was fulfilling his destiny in his own way, and there was not anything a whit more worthy of admiration in the one case, than in the other.

But three hundred pounds per annum, even in a cheap country, afford few luxuries; and if the Germans are indifferent to cholic, there might be, after all, something praiseworthy in the beer-drinking, and here I leave it.

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A NUT FOR THE EAST INDIA DIRECTORS.

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When the East India Directors recalled Lord Ellenborough, and replaced him by Sir Henry Harding, the impression upon the public mind was, as was natural it should be, that the course of policy adopted by the former, was such as met not their approval, and should not be persisted in by his successor.

To supersede one man by another, that he might perform the very same acts in the same way, would be something too ludicrous and absurd. When John Bull cha.s.sees the Tories, and takes to the Whigs, it is because he has had enough of Peel, and wants to try a stage with Lord John, who handles the ribbons differently, and drives another sort of a team; a piebald set of screws they are, to be sure, but they can go the pace when they are at it; and, as the road generally lies downhill, they get along right merrily. But John would never think of a change, if the pace were to be always the same..No; he 'd just put up with the set he had, and take his chance. Not so your India Directors. They are quite satisfied with everything; all is right, orderly, and proper; but still they would rather that another man were at the head of affairs, to do exactly what had been done before. "What are you doing, Peter?"--"Nothing, sir." "And you, Jem, what are you about?"--"Helping Peter, sir." That is precisely the case, and Sir Henry is gone out to help Lord Ellenborough.

Such a line of proceeding is doubtless singular enough, and many sensible people there are, who cannot comprehend the object and intention of the wise Directors; while, by the press, severe imputations have been thrown upon their consistency and intelligence, and some have gone so far as to call their conduct unparalleled.

This, however, is unjust. The Old Almanack, as Lord Brougham would call it, has registered a not inapplicable precedent; and, in the anxious hope of being remembered by the "Old Lady," I hasten to mention it:--

When Louis XIV. grew tired of Madame la Valliere, and desired to replace her by another in his favour, he committed the difficult task of explanation on the subject, to his faithful friend and confessor, Bossuet. The worthy Bishop undertook his delicate mission with diffidence; but he executed it with tact. The gentle La Valliere wept bitterly; she knew nothing of the misfortune that menaced her. She believed that her star still stood in the ascendant, and fancied (like Lord Ellenborough) that her blandishments were never more acknowledged.

"Whence, then, this change?" cried she, in the agony of her grief. "How have I offended him?"

"You mistake me, my daughter," said Mons. de Meaux. "His Majesty is most tenderly attached to you; but religious scruples--qualms of conscience--have come upon him. 'C'est par la peur du diable,' that he consents to this separation."

Poor Louise dried her tears; the case was bad enough, but there was one consolation--it was religion, and not a rival, had cost her a lover; and so she began her preparations for departure with a heart somewhat less heavy. On the day, however, of her leave-taking, a carriage, splashed and travel-stained, arrived at the "pet.i.te porte" of the Palace; and as instantaneously ran the rumour through the household that his Majesty's new mistress had arrived: and true it was, Madame de Maintenon had taken her place beside the fauteuil of the King.

"So, Mons. de Bossuet," said La Valliere, as he handed her to her carriage--"so, then, his Majesty has exiled me, 'par la peur du diable.'"

The Bishop bowed in tacit submission and acquiescence.

"In that case," resumed she, "c'est par complaisance au diable, that he accepts Madame de Maintenon."

A FILBERT FOR SIR ROBERT PEEL.

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Sir Robert Peel was never more triumphant than when, in the last session of Parliament, he rebuked his followers for a casual defection in the support of Government, by asking them what they had to complain of. Are _we_ not on the Treasury benches? said the Right Honourable Baronet.

Do not my friend Graham and myself guide and direct you?--do we not distribute the patronage and the honours of the government,--take the pay--and rule the kingdom--what more would you have? Ungrateful bucolics, you know not what you want! The apostrophe was bold, but not original. I remember hearing of a West country farmer having ridden a long day's journey on a poor, ill-fed hack, which, as evening drew near, showed many symptoms of a fatal knock-up. The rider himself was well tired, too, and stopped at an ale-house for a moment's refreshment, while he left the jaded beast standing at the door. As he remounted his saddle, a few minutes after, he seized his reins briskly, flourished his whip (both like Sir Robert), and exclaimed:--"I 've had two gla.s.ses of spirits.--Let us see if you won't go after that."

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