was, that all those walking in the streets should take off their hats as O'Connell passed by on his triumphant return from the courts; and any one who refused was mercilessly mobbed, and his hat knocked off or forced down over his eyes. In general, for peace sake, most of the passers-by took this new order of things good-humouredly, and raised their hats rather than submit to the unpleasant consequences of a refusal. But the College lads generally resisted this homage; so that a fight was almost certain to take place whenever they and O'Connell's police chanced to meet in the streets.

It happened one evening that a young college friend and I were walking down one of the main streets of Dublin, when O'Connell and his police appeared in view. We consulted for a moment whether we should cross over to the other side of the street and thus avoid a collision, but we considered this would be infra dig. And we therefore kept our course, resolving not to take off our hats.

"Hats off! hats off!" shouted the ragged police who preceded "the Liberator as soon as we approached; but we did not acknowledge the order, and continued to walk steadily on. In a moment we were attacked, and sundry attempts were made to force our hats over our eyes, or knock them off in the street. My companion however a very powerful young man-gave two or three of the foremost of these "policemen" such a hearty smash in the face that they kept their distance for a little, and we walked by O'Connell in safety. I well remember his smile as he nodded good-humouredly to us as we passed him, and I must say it was one of approval rather than otherwise at our refusal to do him homage. No sooner, however, had we got completely to the rear- -O'Connell never allowed his police to commit any violence in his immediate presence than a large party detached themselves on special duty, and followed us with a full resolve to force us into compliance. We continued to walk rapidly towards home, but we soon heard the double-quick footsteps of a number of men behind us, and again the cry of "Hats off!" resounded through the streets. It had a new and most unpleasant effect upon the nerves to find oneself pursued by a pack of hungry-looking ragged men the scum of the populace of Dublin (there were no Poor Laws in those days)—who were determined to force us into compliance with what we considered a deep indignity.

66

"Hold on," whispered my young friend to me: we may get home before they get too many for us." So we held on still, and refused to take off our hats.

A violent blow in the back of the neck which sent me staggering forward was the reply of one of the party to my companion's whispered suggestions; but it had scarcely been given when the man who gave it was laid flat on his back, bleeding and almost senseless, by a blow in the face from my friend. After this,

for some little time, they kept a more respectful distance, but they still followed us shouting "Hats off!" and increasing in numbers as we proceeded. We were frequently assailed, but the moment we turned round, drawing our clenched fists for a blow, the ragged policemen fell back, having evidently a keen recollection of the punishment which the chief of police had received a few minutes before.

At length, however, the party became reinforced by bolder members of this wild constabulary, and we began to feel, as they pressed closer and closer upon us, that we had no chance of reaching home in safety; and resolving, if we could, to make a stand until some relief might be afforded, we rushed up a flight of stone steps, outside a gentleman's door, and presenting our front to the crowd, we showed that we were determined to resist any further aggression to the utmost.

There were no Metropolitan Police, if I recollect right, in those days, and if there were, none certainly came to our assistance; and in a wonderfully short time the street was filled with a motley crowd of the very worst roughs of Dublin, who came running from every quarter to take part in their favourite pastime of a row. Twice a vigorous and direct attack was made upon our fortress; but partly from the determined resistance of my young friend, who forced back his assailants staggering amongst the crowd by the dint of his powerful blows, and partly from the advantageous nature of our position, the enemy was repulsed with loss, and blood flowed freely from our enemies. At length I bethought me of seeking admission to the gentleman's house, on the steps of which we were, and I knocked loudly at the door. It was opened immediately.

us.

"Let us in," cried I. "Let us in, or this mob will murder

"Sir," replied the man in a hissing voice, and with his teeth clenched and grinning, "I hate the rascals ten times as much as ever you can do, but this is Lord Norbury's house, and the gentleman within is old, and those villains would pull it down about his ears if I let you in, should they find out whose house it is; and so you must only fight them as best you can." And before I could answer a word he slammed the door in my face!

U

But the act of the man had not been unobserved by the mob; and seeing now that all chance of our retreat was cut off, they resolved to make a final rush upon our citadel and tear us down from it. This was soon effected. The strongest and boldest among them drew up two deep before us, and with a wild shout, or rather scream, went at us. In a moment we were surrounded, our hats knocked off, and we ourselves hurled violently into the middle of the street. I got off with a bloody nose and the loss of one of my shoes, and my friend with a split ear; but our hats were carried off by our assailants as trophies of war, and were set on high on broomsticks, whilst the victorious "police" of the Liberator marched off shouting and hurraying with their prize. Whether they laid the hats at O'Connell's feet or not I never heard: probably not, as we never saw them after.

116. THE SECOND READING OF THE FIRST REFORM BILL (1831).

Fifty years hence no parliamentary scene of the nineteenth century will appear so exciting as that which is here pictured in Macaulay's words. Lord John Russell's bill proposing a scheme of electoral reform passed its second reading in the House of Commons. by a majority of one (22nd March, 1831). It was amended in committee; a general election ensued; the Liberals returned with increased forces; and the measure sent up twice by the Commons was finally accepted by the Lords (4th June, 1832) on the threat that otherwise enough new Liberal Peers to carry it would be created. Francis Ellis, to whom this letter is addressed, was Macaulay's closest friend.

SOURCE.-Letter to Francis Ellis. T. B. Macaulay (1800-1859). Printed in Trevelyan's Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay. London, 1877. Library Edition, vol. i. p. 204.

LONDON, March 30th, 1831.

DEAR ELLIS,—I have little news for you, except what you will learn from the papers as well as from me. It is clear that the Reform Bill must pass, either in this or in another Parliament. The majority of one does not appear to me, as it does to you, by any means inauspicious. We should perhaps have had a better plea for a dissolution if the majority had been the

other way. But surely a dissolution under such circumstances would have been a most alarming thing. If there should be a dissolution now, there will not be that ferocity in the public mind which there would have been if the House of Commons had refused to entertain the bill at all. I confess that, till we had a majority, I was half inclined to tremble at the storm which we had raised. At present I think that we are absolutely certain of victory, and of victory without commotion.

Such a scene as the division of last Tuesday I never saw, and never expect to see again. If I should live fifty years, the impression of it will be as fresh and sharp in my mind as if it had just taken place. It was like seeing Cæsar stabbed in the Senate-house, or seeing Oliver taking the mace from the table; a sight to be seen only once, and never to be forgotten. The crowd overflowed the House in every part. When the strangers were cleared out, and the doors locked, we had six hundred and eight members present-more by fifty-five than ever were in a division before. The ayes and noes were like two volleys of cannon from opposite sides of a field of battle. When the opposition went out into the lobby, an operation which took up twenty minutes or more, we spread ourselves over the benches on both sides of the House; for there were many of us who had not been able to find a seat during the evening. When the doors were shut we began to speculate on our numbers. Everybody was desponding. "We have lost

it. We are only two hundred and eighty at most. I do not think we are two hundred and fifty. They are three hundred. Alderman Thompson has counted them. He says they are two hundred and ninety-nine." This was the talk on our benches. I wonder that men who have been long in Parliament do not acquire a better coup d'œil for numbers. The House, when only the ayes were in it, looked to me a very fair House-much fuller than it generally is even on debates of considerable interest. I had no hope, however, of three hundred. As the tellers passed along our lowest row on the left-hand side the interest was insupportable-two hundred and ninety-one-two hundred and ninety-two-we were all standing up and stretching forward, telling with the tellers. At three hundred there was a short cry of joy—at three hundred and two another-suppressed, however, in a moment; for we did not yet know what the hostile force might be. We knew, however, that we could not be severely beaten. The doors were thrown open and in they came. Each of them, as he entered, brought some different

But you

report of their numbers. It must have been impossible, as you may conceive, in the lobby, crowded as they were, to form any exact estimate. First we heard that they were three hundred and three; then that number rose to three hundred and ten; then went down to three hundred and seven. Alexander Barry told me that he had counted, and that they were three hundred and four. We were all breathless with anxiety, when Charles Wood, who stood near the door, jumped up on a bench and cried out, They are only three hundred and one". We set up a shout that you might have heard to Charing Cross, waving our hats, stamping against the floor, and clapping our hands. The tellers scarcely got through the crowd; for the house was thronged up to the table, and all the floor was fluctuating with heads like the pit of a theatre. might have heard a pin drop as Duncannon read the numbers. Then again the shouts broke out, and many of us shed tears. I could scarcely refrain. And the jaw of Peel fell; and the face of Twiss was as the face of a damned soul; and Herries looked like Judas taking his neck-tie off for the last operation. We shook hands and clapped each other on the back, and went out laughing, crying, and huzzaing into the lobby. And no sooner were the outer doors opened than another shout answered that within the House. All the passages and the stairs into the waiting-rooms were thronged by people who had waited till four in the morning to know the issue. We passed through a narrow lane between two thick masses of them; and all the way down they were shouting and waving their hats, till we got into the open air. I called a cabriolet, and the first thing the driver asked was, "Is the bill carried?" "Yes, by one." "Thank God, for it, sir!" And away I rode to Gray's Innand so ended a scene which will probably never be equalled till the reformed Parliament wants reforming; and that I hope will not be till the days of our grandchildren—till that truly orthodox and apostolical person, Dr. Francis Ellis, is an archbishop of eighty.

117. THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

From the battle of Waterloo to his death Wellington was the most conspicuous subject in England. The bare list of his titles (4) speaks for the gratitude which prompted Napoleon's enemies to confer them, and illustrates the geographical extent