disturbing the general course of trade; its cheapness, coming, as it did, next in price to the potato, which the Irish had lost.  Beyond doubt, there never was such a wonderful hit as that cargo of Indian meal.  Sir Robert Peel flaunted it, with simpering modesty, to be sure, as his wont was, but flaunt it he did, in the face of every member who ventured to ask him what provision he had made against starvation in Ireland; and here again his successor seems to think that even he, who had nothing whatever to do with it, can take shelter under the ample protection it affords to all shortcomings with respect to the Irish Famine.  But however good and praiseworthy this purchase of Indian meal was, the precedent it afforded was not to be followed; for, says the First Minister, “if it were to be considered as establishing a principle, for the Government to apply the resources of the Treasury for the purchase of food in foreign countries, and that food were afterwards to be sold by retail at a low rate, it was evident that all trade would be disturbed, and those supplies which would be naturally a portion of the commerce of this country would be applied for the relief of the people of Ireland.”  Loud cheers hailed the announcement.  “Likewise, that portion of the local trade in Ireland, which referred to the supply of districts, would be injured, and the Government would find itself charged with that duty most impossible to perform adequately—­to supply with food a whole people.”

The miserable, transparent, insulting fallacy that runs through this statement, is also found in almost all Sir Robert Peel’s speeches on the famine, namely, that there was not food enough in Ireland for its people; and that it must be brought from foreign countries through the channels of commerce.  Let any one look at the tables of our exports of food during the famine years, and he will see how the case stood.  The food was in the country, on the very ground where it was required—­beside the starving peasant, but was taken away before his eyes, while he was left to travel day after day three, four, five, and in many cases six or seven miles for a pound or two of Indian meal, carried three thousand miles to replace the wheat and oats of his own country, of which he was deprived; and there are recorded instances of men falling down dead at their own threshholds, after such journeys, without having tasted the food which they had sacrificed their lives to procure.[117]

It was a question of money also.  The Government would not advance enough of money to buy the wheat, oats, or barley of the country; there must be a food found that was nearest in price to the potato.  England could find a hundred millions of money to spend in fighting for the Grand Turk; she could find twenty millions for the slave-owners of her colonies; she could find twenty millions more for the luxury of shooting King Theodore, but a sufficient sum could not be afforded to save the lives of five millions of her own subjects.[118]