ver Cromwell, and the
curses, the murders, the unspeakable vileness of ten bad years all were
atoned for in wild wrath and ruin. Now is it not marvellous that, while
the murderers were free, they were poverty-stricken and most wretched?
As soon as Cromwell's voice had ceased to pronounce the doom on the
unworthy, the great man began his work of regeneration; and under his
iron hand the country which had been miserable in freedom became
prosperous, happy, and contented. There is no mistaking the facts, for
men of all parties swore that the six years which followed the storm of
Drogheda were the best in all Ireland's history. Had Cromwell only lived
longer, or had there been a man fit to follow him, then England and
Ireland would be happier this day.

In our social life the same conditions hold for the individual as hold
for nations in the assembly of the world's peoples. Freedom--true
freedom--means liberty to live a beneficent and innocent life. As soon
as an individual chooses to set up as a law to himself, then we have a
right--nay, it is our bounden duty--to examine his pretensions. If the
sense of the wisest in our community declares him unfit to issue dicta
for the guidance of men, then we must promptly suppress him; if we do
not, our misfortunes are on our own heads. The "independent" man may cry
out about liberty and the rest as much as he likes, but we cannot afford
to heed him. We simply say, "You foolish person, liberty, as you are
pleased to call it, would be poison to you. The best medicines for your
uneasy mind are reproof and restraint; if those fail to act on you, then
we must try what the lash will do for you."

Let us have liberty for the wise and the good--we know them well enough
when we see them; and no sophist dare in his heart declare that any
charlatan ever mastered men permanently. Liberty for the wise and
good--yes, and wholesome discipline for the foolish and
froward--sagacious guidance for all. Of course, if a man or a community
is unable to choose a guide of the right sort, then that man or
community is doomed, and we need say no more of either. I keep warily
out of the muddy conflict of politics; but I will say that the cries of
certain apostles of liberty seem woful and foolish. Unhappy shriekers,
whither do they fancy they are bound? Is it to some Land of Beulah,
where they may gambol unrestrained on pleasant hills? The shriekers are
all wrong, and the best friend of theirs, the best frie