trial. The mighty providence that loves the meek and quiet spirit, will not give the crown of martyrdom to human rashness and vanity. The true preparative for the final struggle is the abjuration of our own strength, and the humble hope in the strength to be administered alone by the Eternal Source of fortitude and virtue. The agony in Gethsemane may have been chiefly revealed for our lesson; the bloody sweat but an emblem of the terrors that can besiege the human mind in the prospect of a death of torture; and the command "to pray that we may not be brought into trial," but a result of the knowledge that, though the spirit may be willing to bear, the human nature is made to shrink, the "flesh is weak," and not to be trusted in the presence of desperate pain.

But Luther's humiliating letter was an useless degradation. Whether from the conviction that he had offended the popedom beyond forgiveness, or from what seems the actual knowledge of intended violence, within three days of his letter he mounted a horse provided by his friend Staupitz, and before evening was forty miles from Augsburg. Staupitz, Lincius, and the prior of the Carmelites, with whom Luther had lodged, wisely flęd a few days after.

Luther's first work, on his return, was the publication of his famous letter to the Elector, detailing the conferences with Cajetan, and refuting the Dominican's arguments. He had now fully ascertained that it had been his adversary's intention to send him to Rome; and the pathetic close of his letter shows deeply his resignation, and the sense of his danger.

"I am almost prepared to submit to the pains of exile, for I perceive that my enemies have laid snares for me on all sides; nor do I know where I can live in safety. What can I, a poor and humble monk, expect? or rather, what danger ought I not to dread, since so illustrious a prince is exposed to threats, unless he send me to Rome, or banish me from his territories? Wherefore, lest any injury should befall your highness on my account, I am willing to forsake my native country, and to go wherever a

merciful God shall be pleased to direct, leaving the issue to his will.

"Therefore, most illustrious prince, I respectfully bid you farewell, and take my leave, with infinite thanks for all the favours that you have been pleased to confer upon me. In whatever part of the world I may be, I shall never be unmindful of your highness, but shall pray sincerely and gratefully for your happiness, and that of your family."

But Frederic's cautious habits had concealed from Luther the strong interest which he took in the safety of the great ornament of his states, and object of religious honour through Germany. The resolution to protect him had been already adopted; and the Elector's answer to an insolent rescript of the Legate, demanding that Luther should be banished from Saxony, and sent to Rome, and declaring that "his pestilent heresy should not be suffered to exist," singularly displayed the determination of a prince, remarkable for his politic reluctance to make an unnecessary avowal of his opinions.

"Luther's appearance at Augsburg I consider as a fulfilment of all that has been promised on my part. Notwithstanding the assurances that you gave me of allowing him to depart with tokens of your regard, a recantation, I hear, was required of him before the subject was sufficiently discussed.

"Many learned men can see nothing impious, unchristian, or heretical in Luther's doctrine; and its chief opponents appear to be among those who do not understand it, or whose private interest stimulates them to opposition.

"I am always ready to do my duty as a Christian prince; and am therefore at a loss to conceive why there should be held out any such threats, as that the Court of Rome should follow up the cause, that Luther should be sent thither, or that he should be banished from my principality.

"He has, hitherto, been convicted of no heresy, and his banishment would be very injurious to the University of Wittemberg. I enclosed an answer to the other parts of your letter from Luther, whom I do not

consider in the light of a heretic, because he has not been proved such, and because it is consistent with justice that he should have a hearing."* This letter was too decisive of the Elector's intentions to suffer Cajetan to hope for the sacrifice of the great Reformer. He returned to Rome, and found the fate of disappointed negotiators; he was charged with precipitancy, where no discretion could have insured his success. The mortification sunk deep in the proud spirit of the Dominican; he gradually withdrew from public life, and gave himself up to the nobler occupation of rivalling the Reformers in those literary attainments which had so often put the ignorance of the Papal clergy to shame. During the eleven years of his remaining life, he distinguished himself by the study of the original languages of the Scriptures, and still holds his rank among the most learned of his order.

Miltitz, a Saxon and a layman, was next sent to soften what the sternness of the Romish prelate had failed to break down. He invited Luther to a friendly conversation at his friend Spalatin's house at Altenburg, in January, 1519. The conference was better followed by a supper, in which Luther's joyous and open nature indulged itself in the conversation of his intelligent countryman without overlooking the true object of every mission from Rome. His letter to his superior, Staupitz, gives a brief yet characteristic account of the scene. "Atque vesperi, me accepto convivio, lætati sumus, et osculo mihi dato, discessimus.-Ego sic me gessi, quasi has Italitates et simulationes non intelligerem."† But the papal power was still the great overshadowing influence of every mind of Enrope, and no vigour of intellect was adequate to the idea of finally resisting the superstitious authority, or doubting the heaven-descended sanctity of the "mighty mistress of the faith." Luther still most anxiously and sincerely drew the line between his rebuke of the guilty agents, and his reverence for the immaculate source of Romish power. In his letter of the 3d of March 1519 to the Pope, he declares himself overwhelmed with regret at the charge of disrespect to the See.

"It is those, most holy Father, whom I have resisted, who have brought disrespute on the church. Under the shelter of your name, and by the coarsest pretexts, they have gratified a detestable avarice, and put on the most revolting hypocrisy. Now they proceed to throw on me the blame of the mischief that has happened; but I protest before God and man, this I never did, nor at present do wish to make any infringement on the power of the church or your holiness, confessing, in the fullest manner, that nothing in heaven or earth is to be preferred to it, except the power of Christ Jesus, who is Lord of all."

Nothing can be more idle than the subsequent charges of hypocrisy which were heaped upon the writer of this letter. Luther's whole spirit was sincerity; the original homage to Rome, the first lesson and the last in the lives of subjects throughout the earth, which, with the secular priest was the subject of all his teaching, and with the regular was the very food on which his doctrine, his order, and his existence, lived, still resisted the powers of the loftiest and freest minds. The darkness which enabled Rome to work its evils so long undetected, hung round the genius, sagacity, and independence of mankind with an oppressive and bewildering heaviness, from which Europe was to be relieved by no energy born of human nature. A more resistless influence, descending from the throne of the Eternal Wisdom and Mercy, was to work the miracle.

But the characters of the successive great leaders of the Reformation finely displayed that suitableness of means, which perhaps forms one of the most admirable and unquestionable proofs of the acting of Providence in the higher changes of nations.

The mind of Luther was matchlessly adapted for the peculiar work that fell to his share. Enthusiastic, bold, and contemptuous of all consequences to himself, he lived and breathed only for the cause of truth; the impression of the moment absorbed his whole ardent imagination; and whether the hereditary grandeur of the Popedom towered before his eye, or he looked into that deep and ancient gulf of tyranny and crime, from

Seckend, p. 63.

No one can look at Ireland without being convinced that the principles on which it has been for some time governed are fearfully erroneous. When public men cast the blame on religious strife and the Catholic Question, whine over party animosity, and protest that things are as they are because Protestant and Catholic will not live in harmony, they only prove that they are disqualified by incapacity, or something worse, for uttering a word on the subject. It is not only demonstrable that these causes could not possibly have produced the alleged effects in despite of proper government; but it is equally demonstrable that the appalling spectacle which Ireland exhibits has been produced by things which never could have had being under such government. It is not less certain, that the evils have become so gigantic that they threaten the empire with fatal calamities-that if no remedy be applied, they must either dissolve the Union between Britain and Ireland, or render it a source of destruction to the best interests of both. A vital change of system in the governing of Ireland is the only thing which can save the British empire from the most heavy ills that could visit it. This is a fact which is now placed wholly above dispute, and, in consequence, the question-On what general principles ought Ireland to be governed?-calls at the present moment imperatively for discussion. The vast importance of this question would be increased, rather than diminished, by the removal of the Catholic disabilities.

In placing it before us, we have not to learn that it is our duty to pay no regard to persons; and this duty we shall discharge. In our use of the term government, we must, however, beg our readers to understand us to mean that impersonal, never-dying thing called government, and not the individuals who in succession compose it. The conduct of leading public men in these days is of a nature to make every friend of consistency anxious to escape the disgust which the sight of it inspires; and we shall speak without looking at, or remembering them personally. We must observe that it is not our object to inquire

what particular measures would benefit the agriculture or trade, and abate the penury, of the Irish people, looking at them separately. We wish to ascertain what general and leading principles of policy Government ought permanently to act on towards Ireland, for the sake not of its interests only, but of those of the whole United Kingdom. Our conviction is, that England and Scotland have been for some time, and are still, in course of frantic sacrifice to Ireland, to the ruin of all the best interests of the latter.

Some time ago we expressed our doubts whether a separate government in Ireland was productive of benefit, and these doubts have been largely increased by all that has since happened. We fear it is as pernicious in practice as it is incongruous in theory, for the United Kingdom to have virtually two kings and cabinets, even though one king and cabinet be subordinate to the other. We strongly suspect that this has a mighty share in causing the United Kingdom to be in reality anything but a united one.

If the United Kingdom had but one government, the policy and measures for governing a part would naturally be framed with reference to the interests of the whole. Ministers would feel that, in their conduct towards the Irish portion of the population, they ought to keep in sight the good of the population at large. In general discussion the inhabitants of Great Britain and Ireland would be regarded as one cummunity, and the management of public affairs would be judged of accordingly.

But under the present system, the British government naturally leaves Ireland in a great measure to the Irish one. The latter, of course, must not be dictated to, or guided in its conduct and measures in its own department by others; it has nothing to do with the governing of England; it cannot look beyond that Ireland to which its power is confined. To expect it to act for the benefit of the community at large-to consult the interests of the general population of the United Kingdom-would almost be, in its judgment, to expect it to usurp the functions of others, and violate its own duties.

It follows that in various essential points Ireland is treated as a separate country; and from the anxiety to benefit it which prevails, it is almost treated as if it were the head of the empire, and England were only one of its dependencies. The line of policy at present followed and advocated may be described in these words: Ireland is practically a separate nation; every thing which its interests call for must be done, no matter what evil may flow therefrom to England; and no measure must be resorted to which may be adverse to its interests, separately looked at, however imperiously it may be called for by the general interests of the empire.

We are not sure that this system of divided government could, in any case, operate otherwise than injuriously; but at present, every thing conspires to extract from it the utmost measure of injury it is capable of yielding.

The British King holds his office for life, and his Ministry is appointed for an indefinite period; this produces settled and efficient government. But the Irish King, in the first instance, is only appointed for a very short term of years, and with every change of King, there must, of course, be a change of Irish Ministers. His Sub-Majesty, when he ascends his throne, cannot deign to follow the beaten path of his predecessor; he must not stoop to any inglorious second-hand matters; he must have some splendid new system of his own, founded in no small degree on the principle, that he ought to abandon or reverse the work of those he succeeds. He goes to Ireland brimful of erroneous opinions, which he has drawn from party and faction; and he applies them, without inquiring how far they are justified by the condition of his subjects. When he has been there a sufficient time for enabling him to discover his errors, obtain proper knowledge of the real state of Irish society, devise beneficial measures, and gain the requisite personal friendships and influence for rendering such measures effective, he is removed. As soon as his government can well become a wise, beneficial, and stable one, it is dissolved; and his successor, like him, reverses, abandons, makes experiments, blunders, and when he becomes qualified for his office, ceases to govern. Ireland has a succession of ephemeral rulers, from whom, in the nature of VOL. XXV.

things, scarcely any thing can be expected, save injurious experiment and general misrule.

Such a Government cannot gain the confidence and affection of its subjects. In the first moment, the latter find in their rulers utter strangers-they expect with every change of men a change of system, which will yield impossible advantages-one part or another is, or perhaps all are, disappointed--they see mistaken measures and unjust partialities, then follow exasperation, flame, and longings for a new Government; and when convulsion subsides, and the first gleams of peace and confidence appear, a new Government they obtain, and all this is repeated. The strife, disaffection, and convulsion, which are so much complained of, owe their origin in no small degree to the continual changes of Irish King and Ministry.

While the people thus almost inevitably feel towards the Government the opposites of confidence and affection, it separates them from the British one. No direct bonds of authority, attachment, or hope, unite them to the latter. It does not visibly govern them, or form a court of appeal against their rulers; in regard to love and obedience, it appears to them in the light of a foreign government. The system of division operates in the most powerful manner to cause the people to regard Ireland as a separate country, and England as a foreign one, to prevent society from becoming among them, in form, habit, and feeling, what it is in Britain, and to make them practically a people different from, and to a high point hostile to, the British people.

So long as the Catholic Question was kept in the back ground, the division in the Cabinet respecting it was not productive of much evil. The Ministers friendly to the removal of the disabilities were as much the objects of Whig and Radical animosity, and as much dependent on the Tory part of the country, as their colleagues. They knew the question could not be carried, and they had nothing to gain, and much to lose, by pressing it; their personal interests were opposed to its discussion, and even to the strengthening of their own party respecting it. They voted for the Catholics in Parliament, and this was almost the only important fruit of the division; in other matters they differed in no great

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