He had been over Belgium and France;
he was through the Rhenish Provinces; in all which places the people are
Catholics; they have received the highest praise from travellers and
writers for their industry; their thrift; their cleanliness; Charles
Dickens saw all this, but it never occurred to him to credit their
religion with it. When the contrary occurs, and when fault is to be
found, Popery, like a hack-block kept for such purposes, is made
responsible, and receives a blow. He had, indeed, a sad misgiving that
the religion of Ireland lay deep at the root of her sorrows. Surely this
is enough to try one's patience. We have passed through and out-lived
the terrible codes of Elizabeth and James and Anne and the two first
Georges, under which, gallows-trees were erected on the hill side for
our conversion or extinction; we have even survived the iron heels and
ruthless sabres of Cromwell's sanctimonious troopers; and we can go back
upon the history of those times calmly enough now. But this "sad
misgiving" of Mr. Dickens; this patronizing condescension; this
contemptuous pity, is more than provoking. It is probable he had not the
time or inclination to read deeply into Irish history, but he must have
had a general knowledge of it more than sufficient to inform him, that
there were causes in superabundance to account for the poverty and
degradation of our people, without going to their religion for them.
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