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The Hibernianism is one of the forms of laziness of the mind, but it is not at all a proof of stupidity. On the contrary, all those jokes that the English are fond of putting to the credit of the Irish, are only the proof of a certain overflow of intelligence, two ideas issuing simultaneously from the brain, and getting confused into one. Dissect a Hibernianism, and you will generally find two ideas, perfectly sensible, but not agreeing together.
I have met with just as many noodles in England as elsewhere. But among all the Irish that I have come across, though some have been lazy, and many have been bunglers, I have not yet met one who was not intelligent, amiable, and witty.
While on this subject, I might remind the English of the remark made once by their celebrated critic, John Ruskin, at Oxford: "English jokes are often tame, but there is always wit at the bottom of an Irish bull."
And we might add:
Burke, the greatest English orator that ever lived, was an Irishman. Excuse, I beg, this Hibernianism of mine.
Lord Dufferin, that ambassador, and Lord Wolseley, that only general, whom England has been serving for the past few years, roast, baked, and boiled, to her friends and foes alike, the two saviors to whom she invariably turns when anything is going wrong ... or is wanted to go wrong, are sons of Erin.
Goldsmith, the immortal author of the "Vicar of Wakefield," was Irish.
Sheridan, the author of the "School for Scandal," that the English might almost call their only comedy, was Irish.
Jonathan Swift and Richard Steele were Irish.