HIS FIRST VISIT TO IRELAND

New Zealand Tablet, 3 July 1913, Page 15

HIS FIRST VISIT TO IRELAND

RECOLLECTIONS OF FORIY YEARS AGO _■;, I could never forget the day I first set foot on Irish soil (writes the Rev. Harold Rylett in the -Irish Weekly). In 1874 I had accepted an invitation to spend a .summer holiday with a college friend, who had become the Minister of the Nonsubscribing Presbyterian congregation of Warrenpoint, Co. Down, the Rev. Wm. McCullough. I crossed from Liverpool on the night of the 11th of July in a boat for Newry. The accommodation was not what it is to-day, so I suppose that was the reason why some of the passengers sat up all night. A Catholic priest and myself were among the number. I remember that the priest seemed to keep himself somewhat aloof, and that I was consumed by a great desire to make his acquaintance. He drew me somehow. He was an older man than myself, and of a pleasant countenance. I made an overture of some sort, and was highly gratified to find it cordially welcomed. / I have a very vivid, recollection of several hours' delightful conversation. My companion was a man of large culture, broad mind, and amiable disposi-" tion, and responded readily to my many requests for information. I was but a youngster of three and twenty, and I remember that I thought it extremely kind of the good priest to give me so much of his company.- I have often wondered since who he was. Before we parted he uttered some words that made one of the profoundest impressions upon me that I have ever experienced. .%. No Man's Enemy. We were preparing to go ashore at Warrenpoint, and we shook hands, and I said something in acknowledgment of the pleasure he had given me,, and added —'l have enjoyed our conversation very much indeed, though we are supposed to be enemies.' ' I am no man's enemy,' he said. The words were spoken very quietly,

but with a solemn earnestness, that positively thrilled me. I experienced the sort of shock that a sudden blaze of light gives. . For ’ months past I had been listening to'., learned : professors .talking about Christianity, and reading many books on the same great subject, but here it was all summed- up in five Words and a handshake. It was the first time I had ever spoken to ayCatholic priest; but I have never ceased to be grateful to that good-man, for his words, ‘ I am no man’s enemy,’ made clear to me the reality of Christianity, and determined, I have no doubt, the respectful attitude of my mind towards the Catholic priesthood in later years. I lost my companion in the crowd on the Quay, and was cordially greeted by my old college chum. As we turned in the direction of his lodgings, I found myself gazing upon the most extraordinary scene I had ever witnessed, and listening to the most fearful din I had ever heard. A wretched little procession of men and boys was moving along the middle of the thoroughfare. Some were making a horrible screeching noise with what I thought must be penny tin whistles, but proved. to be fifes. Several were rattling away with great energy at kettledrums, while one stalwart young fellow was pounding a big drum with tremendous vigor. The way was kept clear for the-procession by a great number of constabulary, carrying rifles with —such is my impression—fixed, bayonets. Good heavens!’ I said to my friend; ‘what on earth is all this row about?’ - • ‘Oh, don’t you know V he replied, with a peculiar smile. ‘lt’s the Twelfth ‘of July! And these people are demonstrating in support of Protestantism.’ I watched the passing of the procession with feelings of astonishment, curiosity, andcompassion. I have seen bigger things since in connection with the wonderful Twelfth, of course ; - but my Orange friends must forgive me if I say that my measure of : Orangeism has ever, been that absolutely ludicrous spectacle with which I was greeted the moment I set - foot on Irish soil on July 12, 1874. These were the two first but lasting impressions that I have of Ireland: ‘I am no man’s enemy,’ and ‘The pitifulness of Orangeism.'

John Mitchel.

This first visit to Ireland was notable to me further for the fact that it was then I came in contact with John Mitchel. He had come home— escaped convict and liable to arrestbut it was so evident that he had but come home to die that the authorities left him alone. I can see him now, on the platform of Portadown railway stationa slight, square-built man, sad and haggard of facea broken fighter. I gazed upon him with profound sorrow, for it was evident that he was a dying man. What an awful difference between the Mitchel that I saw and the man whose portrait as a younger man I have before me ! The old engraving shows me a fine intellectual countenance unlike that of John Dillon in the Land League days ! It was during this visit, too, that I saw John Martin, and I have a clear recollection of his earnest, thoughtful face, his pointed grey beard, and his bowed form: It wa< during this visit also that I caught the spirit of Irish Nationality. An old frend of my host Mr. Glenny, I thnk his name wasa member either of the Nonsubscribing Presbyterian congregation of Warrenpoint or of that of Newry, took me in hand. He urged that, as self-government was the surest way to the development of high individual character, so it was the surest way to promote the best type of national character. Ho urged also that self-government was the truest economy, and illustrated his argument by a reference to Newry and its waterworks. The cost of getting through the British Parliament the necessary Bill for the construction of the works, he said, was as great as the cost of the works themselves. So that there were Protestant Nationalists in and about Warrenpoixxt. and Newry in 1874.

At the World’s End.

Another incident in connection with this, my first visit to Ireland, and one that, interesting though it was, had completely slipped from my memory, .was

vividly recalled to my ’ recollection by a circumstance that, occurred a' generation later —viz., a few years ago. I was in Melbourne, Australia, in 1906, on journalistic business connected with the Tribune newspaper, and was very agreeably surprised to receive from Mr. W. H. Irvine, the ex-Premier of Victoria, an invitation to lunch with him at Menzie’s HAel on March 26.

' , In the course of the meal my host astonished me by remarking, with a quizzical smile, ‘ This is not the first meal we have had together, Mr, Rylett.’ I - I expressed my surprise, for I had no recollection of ever having met Mr. Irvine before, and indeed I had been puzzled to know what had prompted his courtesy to mo.

‘Do you remember,’ he went on, ‘ during your visit to W arrenpoint a good many years ago, you and Mr. McCullough dined at a house on the opposite shore of the lough ? A boy sat at table with you. It was my father’s house, and I was that boy.’ The years rolled back with the swiftness of lightning. I recalled the circumstance as clearly as if it had occurred but the previous day. A member of Mr. McCullough’s congregation, with true Irish hospitality, had invited him to bring his friend to dinner. We crossed the lough at Narrow Water, for the courteous gentleman with whom we were to dine resided on the Louth shore. Our host was a very charming gentleman, Mr. Irvine, brother-in-law of John Mitchel. His son, a quiet, intelligent, gentlemanly youth, was of the company. That youth was now my host! Here was an argument for Home Rule if ever there was one.

Mitchel’ s Nephew.

Five years after that dinner, that boy, who was then a student at the Armagh Royal School, had taken his B.A. degree at Trinity College, left Ireland, and become a teacher at Geelong College. He was called to the Victorian Bar in 1884. Ten years later he became a member of the Victorian Legislative Assembly. In 1889-90 he was Attorney-General. In 1901-2 he was leader of the Opposition. In 1902-4 he was Premier, Solicitor-General, and Treasurer. In the latter year he retired from the Premiership and came Home on a visit. And now in March, 1906, he was back again, and we—the whilom schoolboy of 16 and the divinity student of 24 were lunching together, as happy as sandboys, at Menzie’s Hotel, Melbourne ! A young Irishman could leave home and kindred, do great service and win high honors at the other side of the globeand in that very part of the globe to which his uncle, John Mitchel, was sent years before as a convict for love of Ireland.

The consolation, however, is considerable. What Ireland has lost, Australia so civilisation—has gained. We have not heard the last of that grandson of the Rev. John Mitchel, minister of the Nonsubscribing Presbyterian congregation of Newry and nephew of John Mitchel, the convict. He may yet be Prime Minister of the Commonwealth. But, I repeat, what an argument for Home Rule !