The Sun.
London, England, 1852-07-30 00:00:00

THE SUN,

THE IRISH ELECTIONS.
The nett painful feature connected with the recent
electiens is the aspect that Ireland has presented
throughout the whole content. Whenever great masses
of people are collected together, we are o course pre-
paled. for a certain amount of riotous conduct and dis-
-1 turbanco. This is the penalty we must pay for a free
esnression of the popular will. For the sake of the
edvantege we accept the drawback. But ordinary tur-
bulence is one thing; it is quite another matter when we
find a country given up to systematic intimidation and
nocturnal brigandage, when peaceful citizens are Corn..
polled to barricade their dwellings in broad daylight, and
to fire in self-defence ::pen a mob of ruffians who are
thirsting for their blood. , It is not a legitimate exercise
of constitutional freedom that the inhabitants of three
provinces should be entangled*: the meshes of a wide•
spread conspiracy which threatens detoruction of pro-
perty and life to all who dare to disobey its behests.
Nor does the scepo of the iutimitlation even stop on
this side the grave. The euporatitious and ignorant
men who have been called upon to exercise the
electoral franchise are unfortunately persuaded that
the power of the leading election agents extends over
their souls as well as their bodies. In many cases they
believe this to be so; in others they dare not evince the
slightest symptom of disbelief, lest they should be
doomed to instant and terrible destruction. The Irish
Roman Catholic priests, we grieve to say it, have not
hesitated before any abuse of the power with which the
superstition of their votaries has invested them. It was
but the other day in our Irish intelligence we had to re-
cord,
that in the middle of the nineteenth century a Ro-
man Catholic priest declared to an open-air meeting that
he would never marry a man who voted for Hamilton or
Taylor—that he would never administer the rites of bap-
tism to his child, or impart to him the last consolation of
the Church upon his deathbed. Another, at the conclusion
of service, called out aloud from the altar the names of as
many- of his congregation as had votes, and compelled
them to walk up in the face of the congregation to that
sacred spot, and receive from his hand the voting-
tickets on which were inscribed the names of the candi-
dates in whose favour they must register their votes.
" Who would vote for Jocelyn Otway?"—writes the
author of a Tipperary election manifesto to which we
have already had occasion to advert. " The traitor who
will do so, never let him enter a chapel door. Let his
memory be to you like the memory of Judas. Keep
from him, for the devils of hell are his companions, and
no saint in heaven will pray for him in his dying hour."
Such was the nature of the electoral impulses brought
to bear in favour of Messrs. Scully and Sadleir in the
county of Tipperary.
It is only by enumerating instances that we can hope
to give even a faint idea of the Reign of Terror under
which the Roman Catholic peasantry have been held by
their priests during the recent election. The subject is
one fraught with too much peril to the stability of our
representative institutions, or we should shrink from the
task of drawing into a focus the various blasphemies of
the Irish priests to their deluded flocks. The following
extract is from a speech delivered by the Rev. Mr. Maw,
at Tralee:—
" El, eters of Tralee—vou, the honest electors—who
have always upheld the independence of year town, as-
semble in a body tomorrow; go to those unfortunate
wretches, and make them acquainted with the conse-
quences of their guilt. For my part, I'll confess to you
what my feelings are with respect to those wretched and
corrupt Catholics. Let me suppose one of those wretches
prostrated by sickness. Suppose the hanfl of death
heavy upon him, sod that a messenger comes to me to
attend him in his dying moments. If there were no
other priest in the way I would be bound to go. I dere
not refuse to attend him; but I confess to yeti that I
would be sorry from my heart to be called upon to at-
tend the deathbed of such a being.—(Great sensation.)
I would go to attend such a wretch with a heavy heart,
without much hope, because I would feel that I was
going to administer sacraments to one whose conscience
was so seared and whose heart was so rotten at
the core that I could not have much expectation of
effecting a conversion. Overpowered with the im-
pression that I was about to visit a perjured wretch,
who for a miserable bribe had betrayed the dearest in-
terests of his country and his religion, and borne down
with the harrowing reflection that God, in His just an-
ger, might leave such a wretch to die in his sins—
(Sensation)—I would fear that my mission would be
fruitless—that I could have no hope of converting a heart
so hardened, so lost to every acute of duty and religion,
as to vote in support of those who would trample on the
Lord of Hosts.—(Sensation.)"
Such was the method employed by the reverend touter
to canvass the borough of Tralee in favour of Mr.
Maurice O'Connell. During the contest of which wo
have before spoken, in which Messrs. Hamilton and
Taylor were concerned, the poorer voters were not only
denounced by the priests in the manner we have before
stated, but, when it was feared that even this degree of
intimidation might prove ineffectual,hobodies
caughtof menthe vowteerres
dispatched through the country, w
paradedout o f theth e wadto . n n
at
and tied them down in carts, in which situation they were
either brought to " reason" or kept
orre
Parsonntown the parish priest
the head of a mob, successfully carried on a
razzia against the unfortunate voters of Messrs.
Bland and O'Brien, and dragged them down to a
building, in which they were locked up under the cus-
tody of a body of priests, who were also charged with
the duty of bringing them to "reason!" All the efforts
of the landlords, as we are informed by our correspon-
dent from the spot, to protect their tenantry were un-
availing. We cannot bring our cases to a conclusion
without nn'ieino• once more that address of the Rev. Dr.
O'Brien to the " Young Men's Society" at Limerick,
which had so terrible an effect in inflaming, the passions
of the people,- and bringing on the sub Sequent tragedies.
The reverend orator took care to inform his audience
that Nero, and Henry, and Elizabeth, and Anne, and
the Georges, Russell, and Derby, were precisely the
same, and then went on to say—
In many places God's 'victory has been secured, or
at least His resources have been powerfully augmented;
the shrieks of the defenceless and the blood of the mur-
dered here at home proclaim that atththise battleisin England,
is at our
doors.—(Sensation;) Heaven!
a civiliz d country, claiming the rule of a Catholic
population and the allegiance of Catholic
hearts. (Cheers.) Up, brothers! (Here the
whole meeting rose to their feet, with deafening cheers.)
What occurred in England yesterday may be attempted
by .other means in Dublin to-morrow. We must be pre-
pared.—(Continued cheering.) Let not this Stockport
tragedy rest under the veil of English design and beastly
misrepresentation. Our kindred have been slaughtered
in this shamble of English butchery, and law and justice
have slept while the dark enmities of bigot hate have
dealt out ruin.—(Cries of Hear,' and sensation.) In a
place not much larger than Limerick scores of houses
have been sacked—churches pillaged and lives lost ;
while special and ordinary constables, to the sad sorrow
of weakness, could never overtake the perpetrators, or
stay one uplifted band.—(s Oh, oh!') They came to one
locality—havoc had made its dwelling upon ruins—but
the fiends had fled. They ran to another, and they were
just in time to be too late.—(' Oh, oh!') They flew,
with singular alertness and intrepidity, to a third; deso-
lation sent forth cries of agony, but the wreckers nowhere
appeared.--(' Shame!') In - fact, the officers of justice
were everywhere but where they were wanted, and the
blood of the Irishmen paid the forfeit of their delay."
The instances we have given may suffice. The out-
rages at Cork and Limerick, and the more recent
tragedy at Sixmile-bridge, are the best comment upon
the
N talents'onwe :sets
as electioneeringthis
ortsa,, and the best evidence of their
ebffeorttosleorvatFadarleiaitmheernt ginentitms.idation and violence to
put
tro forthforh
oh e
setafu tu rheo?n n
dAtlol thet,he
narnew
latch unhappily obtain
unfair influence and corruption
e acknowledge
in the English counties and boroughs.
tteheremedf.
the evil, and we do cur beat to seekg asit act
In the present temper of the Parliament =
we feel very confident that if the plague of briber and
corruption be not stayed on this side of St. George's
Channel a very wholesale disfranchisement, if not a total
remodelling of our electoral system, will be the result.
Bat, while we are battling with these puny evils, we
allow a neighbouring country to be given up from time
to time to fire and sword, and so many_ of her
as are
.cu.rse_d with
in body and soul, in order that the Roman
tMheajesetylesctorlarlishfranscultects to be periodically tor-
turedCnoamthionleices
tporPieastrhhosorndento.f atyhisrkettnudrnwethfoerir.
get all distinctions of Conservative or Liberal, Derbyite
or Russeliite, ea. any other "its;" we see nothing
Ireland
e ofm
but a
flagrant violation of the British Constitution, and its
probable effects upon the deliberations; of Parliament
and the general temper of the nation. As usual with
our Celtic friends, they are singularly blind to conse-
quences. They do not see that the blood which has
been so freely shed and the intimidation which has been
so unsparingly used may produce something like a re-
ao
bcethloonunodnetdhiosnsittagellionistthfeanCathicainsmne,l,
fanatics enough in Great Britain, and more of them
Godl khinnoawt isc me
liSavt
than the most temperate men can well keep in bounds,
even in ordinary times. But, with these accounts of the
Irish Reign of Terror fresh before the Protestant public,
what can the friends of peace say or do which
a limit to the general indignation? Nay, as
will
statesmen,
place
we cannot escape from the necessity of a
makingsome
attempt to restrain any further exhibition of these de-
moralizing and disgraceful scenes, We have bed a Bill
for the prevention of bribery and corruption in England
—wo must have another for the prevention of intimida-
tion and violence in Ireland. How teeny of the Roman
Catholic returns would endure the test of a St. Alban's
Commission?—

the sentencedwilful to death at
- I Inuit woman,
DIE CONVICT,sDUATNDEEvItENIS),TEG7,Er/17,Ewroetre j:dEATii.--
WORCESTM ,
her child, by throwing
supposed to have lingered some time
• ,it into a coal-pit at Oldswinford, in
thel\la rAy sislitz' e s bins,li rael,ialsaistti ch.ard Wednesday,'s'ho l'f'oars
has since her con-
demnationbefore death put a period
1. 11 in 0 becoming manner, though
this county, where it is stutpop
conducted -elet,
she does not appear to feel its sufferings,
Active efforts are being made to
sen-
tence passed upon her. -
sentence,the chief ground being
obtain a remi,sion of the
the full weight of the awful
of weak mind; but it is
an allegation that the woman
will be carried out by way
of late, the full sentence of the law thought that in consequence of thlse frequency
day
of example. It is said that the of execution. of child murder
fixed, though it has not been made public.
It is a long
CLUB.
time Since an execution took place here.
ELECTION OP SECRETARY TO TUE REFORM
red,
Reform Club, a very numerous body of candidates appeared,
vacancy having occurred in the secretary.ship of the
on the invitatinn of the committee of the club, for the situa-
tion,didatethheassapl ea
ebdeitnog
be
oml. pr.e rvva,
inl
lni
autmn .
Norway,Tlie successful can-
a gentleman
connected with periodical literature.
TUE REPRESENTATION OF PETERBOEOUGIL—We
are informed, on the authority of a private letter, that the
Hon. Richard Watson, the
lately elected M.P. for Peter-
borough, in the room of Mr. W. Cavendish, died on Satur-
day last at Jlovaburgb, alter an •
Illness of only four days..-
. Times,

LONDON,

TLIOMAS ROOD.—"OUR FAMILY."
(From Eliza Cook's Journal.)
" Pow Hoo' -IV Teets does ever) oue speak of the
lamented Thomas Hood, who died just as the world was
begin:deg to appreciate the true genius of the man, but
before he could reap any of. its substantial rewards.
Hood's remitation through life was that of a humonrist,
for he wrote for breed, and as the public would not have
Hood's deeper thoughts, he gave them his lighter ones;
ho spun :hem "comic annuals," and "laughter from
year to year ;" and thus he managed
,to iive on from day
to day. But just before he passed away, there rung
through our island those thrilling stanzal, appealing to
the profoundest sympathies of the human heart, "The
Sang,e
Bridge of Sighs;" of the Shirt," "The Ley of the Labourer," and
" Th
and then it was the public de-
creed that Heed was something more than a humourist;
that he was, in fact, a great tragic poet.
Thomas Hood was of Scotch parentage, though born
in London, where his father was a partner in the book.
selling firm of Vernon and Hood, Poultry. He was first
apprenticed as a merchant's clerk, but his health being
delicate, it was found necessary to take him away from
his desk, and he was sent to his father's relatives, in
Dundee. where he remained some time, and made his
successful debut, as a writer, in the.pages of the local
magazines and journals. Here, doubtless, be acquired
his knowledge of the broad Scotch dialect, which we find
him re-producing in the old Scotch housekeeper in
" Tylney Hall," a novel, though not much known, of the
most powerful character, full of highly.wrcught incident,
and situations of the most tragic kind.
With his health somewhat. restored, he returned to
London, and was apprenticed to his uncle, Robert Sands,
the engraver, and was afterwards transferred to one of
the Le Keux. Ho was a good draughtsman, and might
have attained distinction in his profession, but that he
was soon attracted from it by the more agreeable pur-
suit of literature, Yet, we often afterwards find him at
work with the pencil .and graver, in furnishing the
quaint end comical designs of his own works, his
" Bonnie Annuals," "Up the Rhine," "Magazine," &c.
We believe his first published book •of poems was his
"Plea of the Midsummer Fairies," a little work full of
poetic beauty; tender, graceful, and exquisite. But the
book was not popular; indeed, it is not so yet. So, as
the public would not take his poetry, he met them on
their own ground, and gave them jokes and facetice,
which. they would read. Laughter, however, was not
How's only object in writing. He amused the multi-
tude
to attract their attention; and he used his wit and
humour as the vehicles wherewith to convey his whole-
some and lasting lessons of morality: Thoagh, as a
writer, who lived by his writings, he bad to write that
which the public would buy, and thus suited his pro-
ductions to the general taste, he never *rote down to the
lowest taste. His wit was never sullied by impurity
nor coarseness; never indelicate -nor profane. Nay, his
delicacy was extreme; he was as sensitive as a mimosa
leaf; and a sort of melancholy often dashed his merriest
writings, which made his jests to "-scald like tears."
Many f his quaint and laughter-exciting conceits were
steeped in human feeling and:passion. As he himself
rn of tw h
has so touchingly said—
" All things are touch'd with melancholy,
Bo
dust;t'
To feel her fair ethereal wings
Weigh'd down
w secret
with vile
soul's
degradedrnistrus
Even the bright extremes of joy
Bring on conclusions of disgust,
Like the sweet blossom of the May,
Whose fragrance ends in must.
Oh, give hr, then, her tribute jest,
Her sighs and tears, and musings holy!
There is no music in the life
That sounds with idiot laughter solely;
There's not a string attuned to mirth,
Bat has its chord in melancholy."
Towards the close of Hood's life, while he was still
popularly known as a humouriet, there cppeared in the
colums of Punch that wonderful poem which instantly
thrilled through the hearts of thousands, and produced
an effect such as, we believe, no piece of writing within
the same small compass had ever hefote done—his
agonizing " Song of the Shirt." Parliamentary reports
had exposed, in long detail, the . hardships inflicted on a
large portion, of the industrious. community ; volumes
had been written about them, eloquent speeches de-
livered on the subject, the. miseries of our female artisans
—dressmakers and shirtmakers—had been deplored in t
all forms, but Hood's little poem effected more than
them all. It went straight to its mark; it thrilled the
common heart. He hit the nail on the head, and seat
it home at a blow. Not less touching, not less full of
penetrating truth, was his " Bridge of Sighs," out, of the
down-trodden for theen and d
most powerful expositions of a great social evil, a cane
cerous sore eating away the hearts. of multitudes of
human heingi, which has ever been penned. These
pieces, short though they were, revealed the almost
Shaksperian genius of Thomas Hood. They were the
elamstantchioruagtihotns
andO
fhibsagprpeineet
csheoart,heevedrolwonn
suffering many. And thus floating away towards the
deep waters ot eternity, did he in, these piteous appeals
to human sympathy pour out his soul in song.
Notwithstanding the great genius of Hood, and the
large amount of literary labour of various kinds which
ho performed, he died very poor; for the literary man has
no position in England; he may be a great genius, but
if his books do not sell very largely, and he cannot com-
mand high prices for his copyrights, he may soon starve.
The literary labours of twcoty years entitled Hood to do
no more than subsist, and the only legacy he left to his
family was his fame., We cannot but .lament, that the
close of the poet's career, hopeful and clear though it
was as regarded the beyond of this life, was clouded by
this reflection, though the generous letter of Sir Robert
Peel, communicating the intelligence, that a pension of
1001. a y ear had been granted to his wife, did much to
alleviate the pressure of this anxiety-. The life of the
mere literary man is one of great labour end of small
gains; it is precarious; and his genius, or literary stock
in .trade, cannot be bequeathed, like a bookselling or
banking business, to his offspring. The literary labourer
must always be at the mill-wheel, grinding, whether
well or ill; and it is the nature of literary labour to wear
into the health, and to stimulate into unhealthy activity
the nervous system at the expense of the physical
powers. Hood was a victim to the " literary ailment."
For many years, towards the close of his life, he was
labouring under disease—habitually ill—dying slowly;
and yet be wrote on. In one of the last publications to
which he gave his name as editor, " Hood's Magazine,
he thus humorously pointed out the pains of the literary
life, in an imaginary letter from" A Subscriber:"—
" Sir,—By your not coming out on the Furst, I con-
clude you are lade up, being notorus for evjoyin bad
helth. paiinteey, of course, like my poor Robert, for
I've had a literary branch iu my own fammily, a peri-
odical one like yourself, only every Sunday, tasted of
once a muntb ; and as such, well knew what it was to
write long-wirided articles -with Weekly lungs. Poor
felips! as T often said, so much head work, and nothin
but head work, will make a cherubbim of you; and so
it did. Nothing but write, write, write; and read, read,
read; and as our Doctor says, it's as bad to studdy tin
al is breun, as to drink till all is blew. Mix your cal.
lees. And worry good advice it is, when it can be tole
lerd, witch is not always the case; for if necessity has
no Law, it tins a good deal of Literature, and Authors
it's very
,svAt
errsiyt
pe
wo wo:hl ?2:t they must.
';
thereut if single s
man
no sit
s as
sitting, oabyesr tb ue,s et
od
tteol toll say abbbeoubt st ed
liked
xir.
o nt or.yw habits,
Words.
bworth's
sticking to my chair
and if I do brood too much at my desk, its • because
there's it brood expected from me once a week. Oh! its
grewg, says double,be , berll be no hatching;
very well, says he, to cry Up, up with you, and go fetch
a walk, and take a look at the daisies, when you've sold
your mind to Miffy Stofilis, ana there's a devil waiting,
for your last proofs, as he did for Doctor Forster s.
know its killin me, says he, but if I die of overwork its
in the way of my vocation. Poor boy! I did all
could to nurridge him. Mock Turkey soap and strong
slops, and wormy jelly, and island moss; but he couldn't
eat. And no wonder; for mental labour, as the Doctor
said, wares out the stummack as well as the branes; and
so he'd boon spinning out his inside, like a spider. And
a spider he did look at last, sure enuff; one of that sort
With long spindle legs, and only a dot of a body in the
" Aeuther bad thing is sittin up all nice, as my sun
did, but it's all agin natur. Not bat what sum must,
and particaly the writers of politicks for the papers;
but
they ruin the constitushun. And, besides, even
poetry is apt to get prosy, after twelve or one; and some
late authors read very sleepy. But as Robert said,
what is one to do, when no day is long
poor
long nu forore's
work, nor no muuth either. And, to beesure April,
June, and September, are all short munths, but l'ebber-
very However, one grate thing is, relaxing, if you
cau, as the Doctor used'to say, what made Jack a dull
boy? why, being always in the workhouse, and never at
the playhouse. So, get out of your gownd and slip-
pers, says he, and put on your best things, and unbend
yourself, like a beau. If you've beep at your poeticle
flights, go and look at the Tems tunnel;
.and if you're
tired ot being witty, go and spend a hour with the wax.
wurk. The mind requires a change, as well as the
merchants.
"So take my advice, Sir—a mother's advice—and re.
lax a little. You want brassing, a change of hair, and
more sturnmuck. And you ought to wear flannel, end
take tonicke.. Do you ever drink Basses pail? It's as
good as camomile tea. But above all, there's one thing
I recommend to you, steal wino; it's been a savia to
some invallids.
"Hoping you will excuse this liberty from a stranger,
but a welltmeaning one, I am, Sir, A Sunscneaua."
Thus could Hood play with a subject full of painful
import, and inculcate severe truths in quaint and hu-
morous guise. He made the eye dance with laughter,
at the same time that ho touched the heart to its depths.
It was Comus teaching sympathy and human kindness.
The laugh passed away, but the stern truth remained.
While quoting from flood's Magazine, we may shortly
refer to a tale, commenced by him in tout periodical, en-
titled " Our Family," which seems to be well worthy of
a reprint. It was cut short by the death, of its author;
but it is full of humeur, and is aloes interesting, so far
as it goes. There is some ndmiraale p atraiture ot
character in the tale. Uncle Runabold in a thorough
original; but we can only give here a specimen of Cate-.
chism
Jack, being his itnroductiOn as eeprentlce to the
village doctor:—
"My father was the p3rith doctor, and when he en-
tered the surgery Mr. Postle was rattkiog up a prescrip.
tion.. A poor, shabbily-dressed womtu Was waiting for
the
medicine.,
andalfk.
Inc/ led was waiting
for the poor tai "lish. h' •is called,
without She was a w.dow, as it
without an encumbrance, and had a cottage and emote
small means of her own, which she shed out with the
stipend allowed to her by the overseers, for taking
. imbecile
charge of some infirm The half-
witted boy was her presentor imbecile paups .
ward
"It's for Jacobs,"
said
the woman, es my father
glanced over the shoulder of his eseistant at the pre-
SCriPi "He gets was and eeu.
Of course he does," said my• father. " and will
whilst be takes those opium pills."
" So I tell biro," said the we •
map ; " with his ague,
and in fiat marshy country like this, with water enough
about to give any one the hydraulica."