Ireland had always a place apart in Burke’s affections, and when he first entered the House of Commons he admitted that uppermost in his thoughts was the desire to assist its freedom. He saw that here, as in America, no man will be argued into slavery. A government which defied the fundamental impulses of men was bound to court disaster. How could it seek security where it defied the desires of the vast majority of its subjects? Why is the Irish Catholic to have less justice than the Catholic of Quebec or the Indian Mohammedan? The system of Protestant control, he said in the Letter to Sir Hercules Langrishe (1792), was “well fitted for the oppression, impoverishment and degradation of a people, and the debasement in them of human nature itself.” The Catholics paid their taxes; they served with glory in the army and navy. Yet they were denied a share in the commonwealth. “Common sense,” he said, “and common justice dictate ... some sort of compensation to a people for their slavery.” The British Constitution was not made “for great, general and proscriptive exclusions; sooner or later it will destroy them, or they will destroy the constitution.” The argument that the body of Catholics was prone to sedition was no reason to oppress them. “No man will assert seriously,” he said, “that when people are of a turbulent spirit the best way to keep them in order is to furnish them with something to complain of.” The advantages of subjects were, as he urged, their right; and a wise government would regard “all their reasonable wishes as so many claims.” To neglect them was to have a nation full of uneasiness; and the end was bound to be disaster.