und of trumpet. The king and the
lords are cashiered and dismissed. A house of representatives and a
council of state form the constitution of England. Cromwell is one of
the council. But for the present the war in Ireland carries him away
from the scene of politics.

On this Irish campaign, Mr Carlyle breaks out, as may be supposed, in a
strain of exultation. He always warms at blood and battle. His piety, or
his poetry--not admirable whichever it may be--glows here to a red heat.
We are as little disposed perhaps as himself, to stand "shrieking out"
over the military severities of this campaign, but if we could bring
ourselves to believe that Mr Carlyle is really serious in what he
writes, we should say that the most impracticable maudlin of peace
societies, or "Rousseau-sentimentalism," were wisdom itself compared to
his own outrageous and fanatical strain. If the apologist of Cromwell
will be content to rest his case on the plain ground open to all
generals and captains on whom has devolved the task of subjecting a
rebellious and insurrectionary country--on the plain ground that the
object is to be more speedily effected, and with less bloodshed and
misery to the inhabitants, by carrying on the war at the commencement
with the utmost severity, (thus breaking down at once the spirit of
insurrection,) than by prolonging the contest through an exercise of
leniency and forbearance--we are not aware that any decisive answer can
be given to him. It is an awful piece of surgery to contemplate--one may
be excused, if one shudders both at it and the operator--but,
nevertheless, it may have been the wisest course to pursue. As a general
rule, every one will admit that--if war there must be--it is better that
it should be short and violent, than long and indecisive; for there is
nothing so mischievous, so destructive of the industry and moral
character of a people, as a war which, so to speak, _domesticates_
itself amongst them. Put aside "the saint" entirely,--let us see only
the soldier,--and Cromwell's campaign in Ireland may present nothing
more terrible than what elsewhere, and in the campaigns of other
generals, we are accustomed to regard as the necessary evils of war;
nothing more than what a Turenne, a Conde, or a Frederic of Prussia,
might have applauded or practised. But this is precisely the last thing
our editor would be disposed to do; any so common-place, and commonsense
view of the matter, would have been utter