The friends of the Catholic question are, I observe, extremely
embarrassed in arguing when they come to the loyalty of the Irish
Catholics. As for me, I shall go straight forward to my object, and
state what I have no manner of doubt, from an intimate knowledge of
Ireland, to be the plain truth. Of the great Roman Catholic
proprietors, and of the Catholic prelates, there may be a few, and
but a few, who would follow the fortunes of England at all events:
there is another set of men who, thoroughly detesting this country,
have too much property and too much character to lose, not to wait
for some very favourable event before they show themselves; but the
great mass of Catholic population, upon the slightest appearance of
a French force in that country, would rise upon you to a man. It is
the most mistaken policy to conceal the plain truth. There is no
loyalty among the Catholics: they detest you as their worst
oppressors, and they will continue to detest you till you remove the
cause of their hatred. It is in your power in six months' time to
produce a total revolution of opinions among this people; and in
some future letter I will show you that this is clearly the case.
At present, see what a dreadful in state Ireland is in. The common
toast among the low Irish is, the feast of the PASSOVER. Some
allusion to Bonaparte, in a play lately acted at Dublin, produced
thunders of applause from the pit and the galleries; and a
politician should not be inattentive to the public feelings
expressed in theatres. Mr. Perceval thinks he has disarmed the
Irish: he has no more disarmed the Irish than he has resigned a
shilling of his own public emoluments. An Irish peasant fills the
barrel of his gun full of tow dipped in oil, butters up the lock,
buries it in a bog, and allows the Orange bloodhound to ransack his
cottage at pleasure. Be just and kind to the Irish, and you will