om were ever _en rapport_ with the Irish
nation. Not one of them could so speak to the people as to elicit a
spark of enthusiasm. Of course they could not have the true ring of
royalty, for royalty was not in them. But they could not play the part
well. One simple sentence from the Queen or the Prince of Wales, or
even from Prince Arthur, would be worth all the theatrical pomp
they could display in a generation. Those noblemen had no natural
connection with the kingdom, fitting them to take the first place
in it. They were not hereditary chiefs. They were not elected by the
people. They were mere 'casual' chief-governors; and they formed
no ties with the nation that could not be broken as easily as the
spider's thread. The _hereditary principle_ has immense force in
Ireland. The landlords are now seeking to weaken it; or rather they
are ignoring it altogether, and substituting the commercial principle
in dealing with their tenants, preferring not the most devoted
adherents of the family, but the man with most money. But I warn them
that they are doing so at the peril of their order. A prince who was
_heir presumptive to the throne as Viceroy_, and who, when he ascended
the throne, should be crowned King of _Ireland_, as well as King of
Great Britain, crowned in his own Irish palace, and on the _Lia Fail_
or stone of destiny, preserved at Westminster, would save many a
million to the British exchequer, for it would be no longer necessary
to support a large army of occupation to keep the country. If the
throne of Queen Victoria stood in Dublin, there is not a Fenian in
Ireland who would not die in its defence. Standing in Westminster it
is doubtful whether its attraction is sufficient to retain the
hearts even of Orangemen. There, it is the _English_ throne. So the
_Englishman_ regards it with instinctive jealousy. He feels it is his
own; but, say what we may, the Irish loyalist, when he approaches it,
is made to feel, by a thousand signs, that he is a stranger and an
intruder. He returns to his own bereaved country with a sad heart,
and a bitter spirit. Can he be _Anglicised_? Put this question to
an English philosopher, and he will answer with Mr. Froude--'Can the
Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?' We can bridge
the channel with fast steamers; but who will bridge the gulf, hitherto
impassable, which separates the English Dives from the Irish Lazarus?

'We have,' said Canning, 'for many years been erec