acting in their proper and peculiar sphere, and exercising their
inherent exclusive right by raising supplies in the manner they judge
best." Chatham, in short, applied precisely the same argument to Ireland
as, in his memorable speeches of the next year (1774), he applied to
America, and in both cases he was right. The only mistake he made was in
his estimate of that travesty of a representative assembly, the Irish
House of Commons, which, at the secret instigation of the Viceroy,
though without actual coercion, eventually threw out a tax so
distasteful to its English patrons. But the argument for financial
independence remained unassailable, and eventually the Irish Parliament
itself summoned up the courage to adopt and act upon it.

It may seem almost impossible that in a body so corrupt and exclusive a
national sentiment should have arisen. But every elective assembly,
however badly constituted, contains the seeds of its own regeneration,
and, under even moderately favourable circumstances, moves irresistibly
towards freedom. The pity was that circumstances, save for one brief and
invigorating interlude, were persistently unfavourable to Ireland. The
task was enormous, demanding infinitely more self-sacrifice than even
the ablest and most prescient of her Parliamentarians realized. Until it
was too late, in fact, they never awoke to the true nature of the task,
dazzled by illusory victories. Rotten to the core as the Irish
Parliament was, they sought, strengthened by popular influences, to make
it the instrument for freeing Ireland from a paralyzing servitude; and
up to a point they succeeded, but they did not see that the only
security for real and permanent success was to reform the Parliament
itself. There the inveterate spirit of creed and class ascendancy,
resting in the last resort on English military power, survived long
enough to nullify their efforts.