ich were once, and not very remotely, denied to the
Catholics had been before this accorded to them. Yet the interest and
importance of winning access to Parliament, to the higher ranks of the
army, and, perhaps a stray seat at the Privy Council, acquired the name
of Emancipation, and Mr. O'Connell monopolised its entire renown. He was
styled the "Liberator," and his achievement designated as "striking the
fetters from the limbs of the slave, and liberating the altar." In
truth, the import of Emancipation was so exaggerated, and its history so
warped, that even now at a distance of more than twenty years, both the
act and the actors are so misunderstood that it requires no little
daring to approach a question involving the sensibilities, prejudices
and passions of an entire generation.

A truer appreciation might have given Mr. O'Connell a different and
higher destiny. Not alone the boundless exultation of the Catholic but
the mortified pride of the baffled Protestant also stamped its influence
on his fortunes, prospects and career. In proportion as he was to the
former an object of adulation and pride did the latter hoard up in his
heart for him enduring envy and insatiable hate. Another circumstance,
too, which Mr. O'Connell did not create and could not in the beginning
control, contributed to mar his future glory. This was the pecuniary
compensation which the emancipated Catholics kneeled to present him. It
is far from being intended here to disparage the offering or decry its
acceptance. On the contrary, if this were the proper place, both would
be vindicated with zealous pride. But the effect of the continued
collection, on Mr. O'Connell's conduct and efficiency was baneful in the
extreme. And it was among the most prominent circumstances in shaping
his career.

Mr. O'Connell entered the House of Commons under auspices more
flattering and encouraging than ever smiled on the advent to that
assembly of any other man. In whatever light he was regarded, he was far
the foremost personage of his time. How his subsequent career might
justify the hushed awe with which a proud senate received him if he had
devoted himself to the broad and comprehensive questions of imperial
jurisprudence, for which he seemed so eminently fitted, it would be idle
now to conjecture. Certain it is that no act of his after life, varied
and wonderful as it was, realised the promise of that glad and glorious
morning.

Lord Anglesea, who had be