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The Irish republic. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1867-18??, April 11, 1868, Image 10

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn94054745/1868-04-11/ed-1/seq-10/

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person of the Prince of Wales! Isn’t that glorious?
What evil-minded Irish rebel dare talk about prisons,
or scaffolds, or wholesale robbery and legalized murder
any longer '? Justice is now done to Ireland. Let the
spirit of O’Connell rest content. The rights ol the
Emerald Isle are all conceded, her wrongs all removed.
The eldest son of Queen Victoria has presided at a St. Pat
rick’s dinner! Nay, he has promised to visit Ireland
herself!! Nor is that all. He will positively make “ a
lengthened residence there!!!” Our hearts are full to
overflowing. We must weep for very joy. Will some
body lend us a couple of onions, and a dozen pocket hand
kerchiefs ?
If any of our readers think that we are too enthusi
astic, we request them to peruse the following, which wc
take from a New York cotemporary :
THE PRINCE OF WALES’ VISIT TO IRELAND—HIS SPEECH AT
THE ST. PATRICK’S DAY DINNER.
The Benevolent Society of St. Patrick held its anniversary
dinner in London on the 17th of March. The Prince of
Wales presided. In proposing the health of the Lord-Lieu
tenant of Ireland the Prince said : The Lord-Lieutenant of
Ireland has had a difficult and responsible post to fill for
some time past. [Hear, hear.] But I feel confident that all
will agree that the noble Marquis has fulfilled the difficult
task reposed on him in a manner highly creditable to him
self and beneficial to the country at large. No doubt the
noble Marquis has had many difficulties to contend against,
but I feel convinced that be has done his utmost to fulfill to
the satisfaction of all the high duties of his office. [Cheers.]
I give you, gentlemen, “The health of the Lord-Lieutenant
of Ireland.” [Loud^lheers.]
Lord Mayo, on rising to respond for the Lord-Lieutenant of
Ireland, thanked His Royal Highness personally for the
genial manner in which he had proposed the toast, and the
company collectively for the enthusiastic manner in which
they had responded. He hoped no gentlemen present would
imagine that because lie was fortunate enough to hold a re
sponsible position in the Irish Government he should on the
present occasion refer to or dilate upon the extensive discus
sion which, during the past week, had taken place in another
place. With regard to the great debate, however, he might
remark, that although a difference of opinion was expressed
on the Irish question, there remained one gratifying thing—
namely, that throughout the debate there was evinced on all
sides a most sincere and ardent and intense desire to do that
which would best promote the most important interests of
the people of Ireland. [Cheers.] He did not know that he
ever noticed such a display of interest in Irish affairs as at
the present moment; and lie believed that it only required
discussion and due consideration to enable the Parliament of
the country to bring to a satisfactory conclusion the unsettled
questions which now agitated the public mind. [Hear, hear.]
He took the opportunity of expressing to his Royal Highness
the intense satisfaction with which the Viceroy of Ireland
had heard of the Prince of Wales’ intention of paying a visit
to Ireland. [Loud cheers.] lie believed that the approach
ing visit of his Royal Highness would be productive of much
good to Ireland—[hear, hear]—and lie believed that no Irish
man present would hesitate in saying that his Royal High
ness would receive in Ireland a reception that would show
how deeply seated was the feeling of affection and loyalty of
the people to the throne of England. [Cheers.] He hoped
the result of his Royal Highness’s forthcoming visit would
be such as to induce him to come often to Ireland. [Loud
cheers.]
Lord Kimberley proposed “The health of the Prince of
Wales,” and thanked his Royal Highness, on behalf of the
institution, for having presided that evening. From practical
knowledge lie knew that the Prince of Wales took a deep in
terest in Irish affairs, and was most anxious for the welfare
of that country. [Great cheering.]
The Prince of Wales—I feel much pleased at the kind
manner in which my noble friend (Lord Kimberley) has
proposed my health, and 1 am also much gratified for the
cordial manner in which the company has responded to the
toast. [Cheers.] I hope I need not assure you that I de
rive great pleasure from being here this eveniag. My noble
friend has referred to my intended visit to Ireland. [Great
cheering.] I look forward with pleasure to the visit, because
I have on all previous occasions received a vast amount of
kindness. [Cheers.] I am glad to hear that my visit will
afford the people of Ireland some satisfaction, and that a
longer visit of mine would give greater satisfaction. [Loud
cheering.] We have had during the past year much that is
no doubt grievous to the true and loyal portion of the people,
hut I think it has been satisfactorily shown that the disaffec
tion which has appeared has not been engrafted on the Irish
people by the people themselves. [Hear, hear.] Notwith
standing the unsatisfactory state of affairs which has existed
in Ireland, I still am convinced that the country is true and
loyal to the core. [“ Hear, hear,” and cheers.] I again beg
to thank you, my lords, ladies and gentlemen, for the warm
reception you have accorded to me. [Renewed cheers.]
Up till lately, we labored under the agreeable delu
sion that our performances on St. Patrick’s day, here
in New York, were superior to anything seen in any
other portion of the universe. Our flags and banners
and bands of music, our cream-white steeds and bran
new carriages, and the beautiful “ boys ” that are seated
therein, are all tremendously magnificent. It takes away
one’s breath to survey such grandeur. When we be
held the entire “exhibition,” we felt greatly disposed to
follow the example of that celebrated Abyssinian Queen
from whom the warlike Theodore says that he is de
scended. We are told that when the lady in question
—who was evidently resolved to have a sweetheart of
higher rank than a Scotch gillie—saw “ the glory of
King Solomon,” (whatever that was,) she fainted away
with pure admiration, so that, for a time, there was “no
life in her.” But she gradually “ came to,” as we also
did, after the tail of the New York St. Patrick’s proces
sion had disappeared behind the City Hall. We have
likewise been in the habit of laying “the flattering unc
tion to our souls” that, here in America, on the even
ing of the day devoted to the honor (?) of our pat
ron saint, we could beat the world at trencher and
bottle performances, and silence the songs of the seraphs
with the roar of our blatherskite oratory. But the
glory is departed from us. My Lord Mayo, or Brayo,
and my Lord Kimberley, or Timberley—the name is
derived from the material out of which his lordship’s
head is constructed—and poor little pluffy Albert Guelph,
or Yelp or Whelp—have entered the arena, and beaten
the Paddies with their own weapons. Just think of it,
O ye Gormandizing Knights of St. Tammany, and
Friendly Sons of the Shillelah, and hide forever your
diminished heads. Envious people, who have been in
the habit of asserting that nine-tenths of our parading
and ranting on the anniversary of the respectable Scotch
man whom wo have chosen for our patron saint, are
mere political nets to catch voters in, by whose sweet
services our marshals, assistant marshals and carriage
occupiers and wire-pullers generally, can get themselves
made into Aldermen and City Councillors, and pitch
forked into fat situations which enable them to mistake
the difference between the public purse and their own.
This proves that a certain portion of our people, if they
“are not fit to govern themselves”—as the English,
who have governed us so admirably, are iu the habit of
asserting—are perfectly competent to manage the affairs
of New York city to the decided advantage of their own
pockets. If auybody doubts this, we request him to be
good enough to study the accounts furnished by Mr.
llichard O’Gorman, the learned and able counsel for the
corporation. If he is not convinced by these documents
of the truth of what we have stated, we give him up in
despair.
But even at that little game, we are obliged to con
fess that our Irish politicians are beaten hollow by their
English competitors. For is not one of your small
ward orators who gets on his regalia, and parades his
patriotism in turkey-rooster fashion, for the pious pur
pose of getting a fat place, or a good price for “ his
coals,” but a very lilliputian rogue, compared with such
big swindlers as Wales, Timberly and Mayo ? Faugh !
We feel utterly disgusted. Our political patriots must
fly at higher game, such as the Headship of the Mor
mon Church, or the Presidentship of the Canadian
Dominion. Let them do that, and we will begin to
believe that they are not very little animals of the por
cine persuasion. For is it not the fact that this English
Prince and those English Lords are eating their
dinners and making their speeches under the falsest of
false pretenses ? They love Ireland and the Irish. Of
course they do. Manchester scaffolds and Mountjoyand
Portland and Pentonville prisons prove it! Oh, yes, they
love Ireland so well, that they take away her money from
her to the tune of about eighty millions of dollars a
year. They love her so well, that they leave the two
thirds of her people hungry and ragged and helpless—
all to disgust them with this world and qualify them
for a better. Very loving of them and their aiders and
abettors, is it not ? Yes, yes. They love Ireland so
well, that in less than a quarter of a century they have
murdered a million of her people, and driven forth three
millions more as homeless, houseless, landless exiles on
the face of the earth. How they do love Ireland, the
darlings, and how Ireland and her people ought to love
them !!
This pudgy Prince Yelp, whose powers have all been
unfairly placed by nature in his stomach, instead of in
his skull, is going to pay a visit to Ireland. Let the
nations listen. He “ looks forward with pleasure” to
the said visit. Because on “all previous occasions” he
has “ received a vast amount of kindness.” Blessed be the
inventer of soap and soft sawder. Like his respectable
predecessor, Fum the Fourth, whose example he is
copying so accurately, he comes
“ To visit the land which he loves like his bride,”
whom he adores so intensely, that when she was lying at
the point of death, during the last year, Mr. Wales
was consoling himself amid the harlots and hells of Paris.
lie has received “ a vast amount of kindness” on
“ former occasions” in Ireland. We happened to be on a
“ visit” ourselves to that delightfully governed country on
one of these “ occasions.” We hope he has not forgotten
it. We refer to the opening of the humbug exhibition
which a lot of West-British flunkies got up in Dublin.
They brought over this princely poltroon to officiate as
chief showman. The sneaking little coward was afraid
to trust his worthless life to the love of the Irish people, who
would scorn to defile their fingers with his greasy carcase.
To their eternal honor be it stated, they treated him
with silent contempt—for we saw it all—as with a
couple of British regiments of cavalry around the close
carriage in which the wretched cub hid himself from
the public scorn. This was the “ great kindness” which
this mendacious spawn of worthless tyrants received at
the hands of the Irish people. •
We answer these minions of England’s murderous
rule, as did the French Revolutionists in 1848, when a
good and gallant woman, the late Duchess of Orleans,
offered to them her infant son to be their king. “ It is
too late,” rang through that vast hall, filled no longer
with legislators, but with men with weapons in their
hands—weapons still red with recent battle. Gentlemen
of England, “ it is too late.” Royal visits or no
royal visits, the people of Ireland on both sides of the
Atlantic ARE REPUBLICANS to the core, and their settled
resolve is to carry on this contest until the last vestige
of royalty and its ruffian upholders is driven into the
waters of the Irish sea.
SPECIAL CORRESPONDENCE.
Pencilings From Paris.
THE CARNIVAL — A POLITICAL CONVERSATION—NOTES ON
FRANCE, ITALY AND ENGLAND—NEARLY ENOUGH OF
LOUIS NAPOLEON—VIVE LA REPUBLIC—THE POPE’S SER
VICE—“ NO IRISH NEED APPLY.”
March 13,1868.
Man proposes sometimes in this wicked world of ours, and
the devil disposes. I had intended, faithfully, to contribute
you a weekly correspondence, but the carnival intervened,
and there is a hiatus of two weeks in my series of letters.
You don’t know what the carnival is; you hav’n’tit in Amer
ica; we hav’n’t it in Ireland. Lord Byron has kindly spared
me the trouble of describing it. Read the following lines
from Beppo:
“-Throughout
All countries of the Catholic persuasion.
Some weeks before Shrove Tuesday comes about,
The people take their full recreation,
And buy repentance ere they grow devout.
However high their rank or low their station.
With fiddling, feasting, dancing, drinking, masking,
And other things w hich may be had for asking.”
That is faithful, with this difference only, in Paris, that our
Lent is as gay as our carnival. Eating is the rule, making
maigre, as they call it here, or fasling, the exception. They
tell me the last carnival was the liveliest since 1847. Duval,
the rich butcher, made such another advertisement as did the
New York hatter who bought the first ticket to Jenny Lind’s
concert, by purchasing the “fat ox,” and giving it the tradi
tional three days’ procession through the city. It cost him
six thousand pounds, English, that procession ; but didn’t it
flatter his vanity to have a monster township talk of Monsieur
Duval, the wealthy, the enterprising, magnanimous Monsieur
Duval, for two-and-seventy hours. I “ w7ent in” for the car
nival—and I neglected my work. Open confession, you
know, (as we used to say in the “ould dart,”) is good for the
soul. Still—to find an excuse for my sin—I must say this lack
ing fortnight there has been a veritable lack of news. I shall
endeavor to condense it to-day, in the form of a conversation
between some gossips, that is to say, an Englishman, a French
Republican, an Italian and a mysterious stranger, in a cafe of
the Latin quarter.
Frenchman : “ I saw7 one hundred and thirty-five splendid
looking young men at Mass in the Church of St.Sulpicetliis
morning. They told me they were Canadians, had just ar
rived from Montreal, and were going to Rome to fight for
the Pope.”
Mysterious stranger: “ And the Pope is called Prince of
Peace.”
The Italian shrugged his shoulders.
I added that I had heard the Primate of Hungary had
offered to arm, equip and support twro squadrons of hussars
out of the funds of his see for the same service,
Englishman : “ So well he can ; I have seen him at Agrara,
and his retinue occupied forty-three carriages on the occasion
of a public fete. Francis Joseph was nothing beside him.”
Mysterious stranger: “Forty-three carriages! that is
apostolical.”
Frenchman : “ Ha ! the kings are dying. Here is Louis, of
Bavaria, dead at Nice.”
I ventured to remark, he was a king who was as simple as
any Republican in his manners.

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