Terrorism in Ireland.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIX, Issue I, 5 July 1902, Page 54

Terrorism in Ireland.

Loyal Irishman

(By a

If it happened that a man spent twenty years of his life studying the character of the Irishman as he is when out of his own country, and carefully tabulated the results, he would find himself marvelling that his list included so many men of note —generals, statesmen, financiers, authors, administrators, soldiers, sailors. lawyers, and even presidents. The student would find that in every walk of life the Irishman does distinguish himself in every country under the sun, save one. From the days of Queen Elizabeth, when Ireland sent brilliant mercenaries to represent her in all the wars of the world, a living stream has constantly flowed from her veins to enrich the earth. The quality common to not only the most distinguished of her children, but also to many of the others. has been an extraordinary originality of thought, backed by a no less extraordinary originality of action. The one country in the world in which the Irishman seems to laek these high characteristics is his own. While abroad he is a leader and a pioneer: in his own country we find him easily led. timorous, grossly imposed upon and exploited by men who are the vampires of the body politic of Ireland. “BLACK TERROR.” At home, with all his ch:::: ing qualities, he seems in times of political unrest, such as the present, to be incapable of taking up a free and courageous stand. Men will whisper their opinions to you. afraid that the very hedges will hear. Neighbours distrust each other. We read in England and in Scotland such phrases as "black terror on the country-side by word and whisper bred.” and we shake our heads, and we wonder how sixteen hours out of London such things can be when the details of

some outrage come to our knowledge. I will point my case with a story. Within the last five years a lady, who had forbidden the poaching of rabbits upon her demesne, and particularly warned a notorious poacher, had her house burned to the ground, and when she herself rushed out of the flames she was attacked, cruelly injured, and finally mutilated by the poacher aforesaid.

The miscreant escaped—and it is here that we come to the strange part of the story. He lived for eight months in the immediate neighbourhood. moving from one peasant’s cabin to another, fed and warmed and hidden; and this although not only was his identity fully known, but there can be no doubt that many of these people had been witnesses of his crime. Justice eventually came upon him. and he is to-day in penal servitude for life.

It is not to be supposed that the people in whose cabins he gained shelter really sympathised with him. In their hearts fear was lord. No man dared to capture him or to give information against him to the Royal Irish Constabulary, for the idea of opposing and outwitting the law has been engrafted into the hearts of the Irish by the influence brought to bear upon them through such organisations as the Land League or the United Irish League. “What ruffians!” exclaims he who does not know these people intimately. He who does groans. “What fools’”

They are kindly, kind-hearted, generous to a fault. If only they had not been penalised in the race of life, penalised by their past history, had not drunk in-distrust with their mother's milk. liad not been trained to put their faith in their worst enemies—and by that I mean those who misrepresent them in Parliament—they would be what their high qualities should make them—a happy and a virile people. Instead of this, I would insist that in many parts of Ireland to-day the

peasantry are crouching under the shadow of the United Irish League as coveys of partridges croueh beneath the shadow of a hawk. No tyranny could possibly be worse than the tyranny of this institution and its predecessors. Its well-worn weapon is intimidation, not only of the landlord or the land agent, or of the boycotted farmer or peasant, but a wholesale terrorisation of its own members.

To show you the nature of these agrarian leagues, and to what an extent their roots are struck in intimidation, I must point out that half their membership and effective force consists in recruits who were brought into the fold by intimidation. Their war-cry is: “Who is not for us is against us.” I know many men, friends of my own, good men and true, who support the League simply because did they not do so life would have become to them insupportable. But to look again at the Irish peasantry. It is difficult to realise under how dark a cloud these timorous, uncertain, terror-haunted communities are living. It is difficult to believe that they are of the same blood as the men who have led and conquered in almost every walk of life, just so soon as the green Irish hills faded from their sight.

The influence of the United Irish League if often used for purposes of private vengeance, and of gain. No tradesman is secure against this organisation. His enemy has only to trump up a charge of unpatriotic action against him. and the League plucks away from him his prosperity.

Listen to such a man and what he told the writer: “ ’Twa§ of a Saturday afternoon.” said the tradesman, “that school bhoys bruk the front of me windows. I was in a hurry to see them mended, so what did I do bnt send round fo Smith, who is an Englishman. and not an Irishman at aIL Clancy, me rival in this drapery business. heard of that. He is a man of influence with the United Irish

League. He denounced me for a traitor, and I was warned to mend my ways, and a round robin was published by the United Irish League ad- ' ising loyal patriotic Irishmen to go elsewhere for their goods than to my shop. “Where is the elsewhere that they will go? To Clancy’s, of course: him that had it all done to me. And why did he have it done, the pure patriot? ‘For Oireland,* says he. ‘For to draw away my customers,’ says I.”

The tradesman ceased. “And what was the end of it?” “A subscription from me to the League.”