The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1848-04-11 00:00:00

PROGRESS OF IRISH SEDITION.

In the United Irishman of Saturday, Mr. Mitchell
publishes from himself a familiar epistle, addressed to
His Excellency the Earl of Clarendon, Her Majesty's
Detective-General, High-Commissioner of Spies, and
General Suborner in Ireland," and commencing with a
reference to the recent—to say the least—blundering re-
velations before the police magistrates. Mr. Mitchell
thus proceeds :

" The Irish people are providing themselves, just as
far as their
.means and opportunities will enable them,
with weapons of various kinds, for which they have con-
ceived a sort of divine passion ; no holier fervour since
the crusades hrs possessed any nation of men—not to rob
houses, as you, through your reptile spies, give out—not
to attack 'person or property,' as your Queen's minister
dares to affirm—not to abolish social order,' or rights of
property, or .savings of industry, as your rascal press
prints :twelve times a-week. No, my lord ; the young
men of Ireland arm for a nobler enterprise ; they arm to
defend person and property against brigands of the law'
and: harpies of the government ;'—they arm to make
, social order possible, and to secure to industry its just re-
ward ;—they arm to scourge you and your commissioner,
detectives, aides-de-camp, butchers, and stranglers, forth
from the island of Ireland with rods of steel.
As for me my lord, your Lordship's humble corre-
spondent,—you have been told that lam mad—a danger-
ous lunatic, labouring under cacoethes scribendi. Do not
believe it ; I am merely possessed with a rebellious spirit ;
and think I have a mission,—to bear a band in the final
destruction of the bloody old ' British empire ; ' the greedy,
carnivorousrgold monster, that has lain so long, like a load,
upon the heart and limbs of England, and drank the
blood and sucked the marrow from the bones of Ireland.
Against the Empire of Hell a thousand thousand ghosts
of my slaughtered countrymen shriek nightly for ven-
geance! vengeance! And Heaven has heard it. That
buccaneering flag, that has braved so long the battle and xy
the breeze, flies now from a vessel in distress ; the Cha-
rybdis of Chartism roars under her lee—the breakers of B.:.
Repeal are a-head, and the curses of the world swell the
hurricane that rages round her, pirate and blood-stained ••••
slaver that she is, filled with dead men's bones, and with 'b
all uncleanness. Her timbers are shivering at last—
-0
Quamvis Pontira pinus,
•
Sylvia fila nobilis ;'—
she will never float in harbour more. On the day she n'-47,1
goes to pieces all the ends of the earth will give three °
cheers." F

E.cF;
"To help this grand work of necessity and mercy is Et=
my highest ambition upon earth ; and. I know no better
way to do it than to make Ireland arm for battle. To me :
it is a grateful and blessed sound, this cry, ' The people
are arming." Thank God, they are arming. Young
men everywhere in Ireland begin to love the clear glancing
of the steel and to cherish their dainty rifles as the very
apple of their eyes. They walk more proudly ; they feel '
themselves more and more of men. Like the Prussian
students (when this work had to be done for Prussia),
they take the bright weapon to their hearts, and clasp
their virgin swords like virgin brides, •
"'How long will your detectives, your swearers, your
villainous back stairs panderer to the hangman, check :
this noble passion—this most holy crusade ? Think of it
remain, my Lord, with profoundeSt contempt,
" Your very obedient servant,
"JOHN MITCHELL.
"P. S.—l had some thought of addressing to you an • •
expostulation about the packing of our juries next term.
I fancied some fecling of decency, or even of justice,
might induce you to give orders that the ordinary but dis- :
graceful practice of the Crown-office should be reversed.
I have changed my mind. He who employs a spy
will pack a jury; and I, for one, scorn to appeal for any-
thing to a man who lays a plot for massacre. Pack
away, then, if you dare. I expect no justice, no cour-
tesy, no indulgence from you; and if you get me within
your power, I entreat you to show me no mercy, as I, so
help me God, would show none to you. J. M," tO
This is wicked enough ; but there is a dash of honesty
about this man which places him high above his fellows. :
A correspondent of the paper complains that the move- : 62,
merit is too democratic, and that thousands are therefore _
prevented joining in the fight. Mr. Mitchell. however,
says that the movement must be a democratic one, be-
cause the gentry take no part in it, though they will be • •
shattered to pieces with the first crash of it. Mr. Mitchell
gives a recipe for making cheap domestic gunpowder, and . .
an essay on drilling.

In the Nation is% letter from Lord Ffrench, breathing
a most sanguinary spirit. He says, " The moment Lord
Clarendon draws the sword—spills the blood of that rem-
nant of a suffering people who still survive his reckless,
inhuman, and heartless policy, that sword will not be
sheathed except with the triumph of popular victory, or
with the utter extinction of the people of Ireland."
In the provinces the movement is rapidly extending its
ramifications.