CHAPTER I.
"If Ireland were a thousand miles away from us, all would be changed,—or the landlords would be exterminated by the vengeance of the people."
These are pregnant and comprehensive words: they envelope in the same stern condemnation, both the cultivators and the owners of the soil of Ireland. Their meaning cannot be mistaken: the term vengeance pre-supposes injury,—injury of as deep a dye, as the revenge it has evoked. Yet they express the genuine conviction of one of England's leading politicians, and consequently the opinion of many who confide in his judgment. By some they will be regarded as a rhetorical exaggeration of a partial truth. By others they have been resented as an ignoble calumny.
I do not myself venture to pronounce dogmatically between these conflicting conclusions; no man can hope in a hasty dissertation to determine the opinions of his fellow-countrymen on so vital a question; but, as a member of the obnoxious class referred to, I may be permitted to suggest the propriety of patiently examining the grounds which are supposed to justify these grave denunciations.
