244 THE SORROWS OF IGNORANCE. 



" Sorrow upon sorrow ; woe upon woe. Hear I not an outcry against 

 the bread they eat ; are not pluralities openly denounced ; are not sine- 

 curists in ill odour ; is not the name of churchman a reproach ; and 

 what be those sounds that are borne to my ear upon the west wind ; is 

 it not the clamour of the rebel Irish against the sacred tithe itself?" 



I reminded her that Stanley was faithful to her cause, and informed 

 her that a large military force was under orders for Ireland. 



She heard of the troops with manifest pleasure ; but I was surprised 

 that she did not receive with the same satisfaction the mention of the 

 Irish Secretary ; and I ventured to ask her had she any cause to dis- 

 trust his friendship ? 



It was easy to discover from her answer, that she much more loved 

 than feared him. The chief cause of offence he had given her seemed 

 to be the mutilation of the Bible, to which shocking atrocity he was a 

 party. On this subject Ignorance dilated with becoming indignation ; 

 but nothing fell from her that I had not already heard either from Cap- 

 tain Gordon in the House of Commons, or the Earl of Roden in the 

 House of Lords, to whom she had, of course, on the first agitation of the 

 question, fully imparted her views. 



She now relapsed again into the same ecstasy of grief in which I had 

 first observed her. I was driven therefore to open new springs of con- 

 solation ; I thought of the universities. 



" Madam," I said, " Oxford is steady to your interests : its represen- 

 tatives prove it : Goulburn reflects your genius ; Inglis is the symbol of 

 your principles. Are not Inglis and Goulburn your children ?" 



" My womb bare them," she replied ; " my breasts suckled them/' 



" Then, Lady !" I proceeded, " there is the University of Dublin ; 

 she that is called the ' Silent Sister ;' she is devotedly, entirely yours." 



Ignorance made no answer, but maternal pride glistened in her eye ; 

 she smiled in her tears, and I felt the full beauty of that exquisite line 

 in Virgil, 



" Latonse taciturn pertentant gaudia pectus." 



Perceiving that I had struck upon an agreeable strain, I led the un- 

 happy lady to dwell upon it for some time, spoke to her of Stack's 

 oratory, and called her attention to Dr. Prior's late phillipic at the Con- 

 servative Club. She was particularly gratified to hear that he had 

 cited Aristotle in the original Greek ; and she sighed as she recalled the 

 good times ere the divine philosophy of the Stagirite was supplanted by 

 the Bacons and the Newtons, and the other levellers and revolutionists 

 of the republic of letters. I then talked to her of her Boy ton, and this 

 led to a conversation upon the society above alluded to. At first 

 she spoke of it sanguinely, and seemed to entertain a hope that by its 

 means her dominion might yet be restored in Ireland ; but that dark 

 delightful prospect dwelt on her mental retina but for an instant ; she 

 thought of the Brunswick Clubs, and demanded of me what had they 

 availed her in the year 1829 ? 

 . I was silent in my turn for I had nought to answer. 



It was now evident to me that I had undertaken a task beyond my 

 strength, in putting myself forward as the comforter of one whose 

 bosom was surcharged with such various and mighty griefs. The ocean 

 of her tears seemed to have no soundings. In every point of the com- 

 pass she saw danger. In politics, in literature, in the arts and sciences, 

 no matter where she turned her eyes, she saw the signs of tokens of her 

 expiring dynasty. Fro^ the success of Don Pedro, to that of the Penny 



