ERIN’S TEARS

New Zealand Tablet, 9 November 1916, Page 17

ERIN’S TEARS

. A PLEA FOR UNITY AS A PRELUDE TO • SETTLEMENT. The following eloquent appeal, which we take from a Home journal, is from the yen of Mr. Horatio Bottomley, the well-known editor of John Bull: ‘Poor Erin! Is she never to dry her tears? Is she ever to remain the sad Cinderella of the family? There is something infinitely pathetic in the spectacle of a mighty Empire in death grips with the hosts of hell abroad—and the ‘ Irish Question ’ once more to the fore; and there is something cruelly ironical in another spectacle of Britain, the Mother of Colonies and Dominions over all the Seven Seas—unable to win the love or the confidence or the respect of little Ireland. Verily the Emerald is the olio faulty stone in Britannia’s diadem ! How much longer is Ireland to remain a stock piece in the political repertory—with Erin ever in her eternal vogue of tears—and John Redmond and Edward Carson as the rival gladiators, in full war paint, with rifles and bandoliers to match? Just before the war began we were being prepared for a great revival of the old play, and more than one reputable critic was hoping that it might develop into a new version of the Kilkenny cats. But many of us hoped otherwise. Our sympathies were really with the heroine ; we felt that she was obviously in sad case, and as we recalled the trials and tribulations through which she had passed, we hoped fervently that it would ‘ all come right in the end,’ and that the curtain would ring down on the picture of Erin and Britannia clasped in each other’s arms, with old John Bull waving the Union Jack over their heads. But it was not to be. What is the explanation ? —what is the meaning of it all ? I sat in Parliament through the stormy days of the last Home Rule controversyand I smiled when I saw a cheering House of Commons waving Order Papers and handkerchiefs in celebration of the passing of that Bill which was to settle everything! I hesitated long ere I voted for it, and in announcing my intention of doing so I expressed the view that it would never be a ‘ remedy ’ - —only, at best, a bridge which might bring North and South together. And when the war came, we thought that end—that glorious end —had been reached. Carson and Redmond joined hands—and all men said ‘ the Irish question is settled.’ And then we breathed more freely—and waited. And then ? Ah— ‘ then ’ ! Then came the bloody awakening of the Sinn Fein risingwhich I had foreseen all too plainly on my recent visit; and of which I at once warned the Government. Well, that is over ; and many a gallant—if misguided—son of Ireland today sleeps the sleep of martyrdom to a false ideal. And so they paid the penalty. And then, in our hearts, we were sorry—for we love Ireland — we once more beckoned her to our arms. But let us be candid. The fact that a bloody internal outbreak was averted was due to neither the foresight of statesmen nor the restraint of party and sectarian bickering; it was due to the pre-emptive demands of a greater tragedy; and thus the yawning abyss of civil war was closed over. But in the first ecstasy of relief we fell headlong into further delusions wo assumed that the sword of the Kaiser had cut the Gordian knot of the Irish problem—the Prince of Potsdam had appeared—not as the Betts, but the Diaholus ev -machinu. And all the members of the House of Commons stood up and sang ‘ God Save the King.’ And one of the leading papers said : ‘ln the first shock of war the greatest of all our domestic controversies has dwindled into insignificance.’ Simple soul! It was only a stage act —behind the scenes the plot remained. For the Irish problem is not the problem of Ulster, nor the problem of-the South, nor the problem of the Sinn Feiners ; nor is it the problem of the politicians at Westminster, or of the armed Volunteers in Belfast, Cork, and Dublin ! The Irish problem is the

pioblem of Ireland. That is where we have all gone wrong. Not the Thames, but the Liffey, is the stream of Ireland s nationhood. Yes, the heart of Erin is a complex thing; and how to win it is the question. Can a people sundered by political prejudices, traditional animosities, sectarian feuds, racial hatreds, ever be brought together, and, above all, can they be brought together not as a sequel but as a -prelude to a final settlement ? Haven’t we been working at the wrong end ? I hold no brief except the all-compelling call to Peace within the realm: I stand as advocate of neither this party nor that—of -the demands of the sturdy North or the claims of the gallant South. To me all are Irishmen, brothers in a great and splendid race. But I am Counsel for the defence—for the defence of our common heritage and the priceless guerdon of a contented people. Who shall dare decide where lies the little more of rightthe little less of wrong? To-day Ireland weeps not because of the bloodshed on the vast and varied battlefields wonderful women mourn their losses in silent grief and in the tears of noble restraint. No, Ireland weeps for the misguided and the misled—she forgets their faults in the consciousness of ideals that exalt ill-deeds. She gladly condones their guilt in contemplating their reckless zeal. Never let us forget that Ireland’s past is England’s shame—that history’s page is dark with misunderstanding, and stained with error. We may deplore it; we may hold in all sincerity that the past has been cleansed with the healing ointment "of Sympathy. But there are they who nurse and hug bitter memories with all the fire of fanatics, and live in the hungry past. ‘ ’Tis true ’ —and ‘ pity ’tis ’tis true.’ Oh, no, I am not forgetting the other side of the picture—the burning thoughts and swelling determination of the North; How can any man who recalls the sad sight in Erin’s fair isle when the tocsin of this world-war drowned the noise of civil strife and muffled the beating of the drums of threatened rebellion, forget that other side ? At the call of Iving and Empire the men who had drilled to be ready for what they held was a national menace, shouldered their arms to meet an Empire’s danger. Believing still in the justice of their claims, trusting the leaders they left to guard the treasure-house of a united kingdom" they crossed the waters to meet the foe, and in a hundred fights these men of Ireland have stood shoulder to shoulder for the Right. But they have stood in gallant comradeship with the men of the South. There is one thing that history must never be able to record—that while Protestant and Catholic, forgetting everything but their common Christianity; while Nationalist and Ulsterman, counting their personal feuds well forgotten in that new comradeship before the greater foe, were burying the hatchet of the centuries with their honored dead—the politicians disinterred it. I know that the heart of Erin is strong and brave—that she is yet to be wooed and won. I believe in my soul that the marriage made in haste, in the century that has gone, can yet be consummated in love and confidence if only our rulers show wisdom. It is you men of Westminster and Whitehall, who have kept those wounds angry and unhealed—you have blundered, blundered, blundered. I know you have done your ‘ best ’ —and the idea that your best might not be best for Ireland has always been foreign to your insular conceptions ; it was fantastic—a mere refinement of that philosophy of Government to whose mysteries you have always claimed to hold the master key. In Art, in Applied Science, in Technical Craft —even in Commercial. Organisation, it might be (only might be, mark you that you had something to learn from other nations; but in the field of Government, in the making and the working of Political Machinery, you had yet to meet your masters. You pointed to Canada, to Australia, to India, to South Africa—all monuments to the British genius of good Government. Then why couldn’t you manage Ireland? Who dared to question your methods? Not

for nothing was she committed by Providence to the benevolent: tutelage of rulers to whom the framing of Constitutions was a labor of lightness as well as of love* And, for the very life of you, you couldn’t understand why things were not working all right* Can it really be that something was wrong with your methods ? Well, let us look the truth in the face the Government has a tremendous responsibility—they are the chosen guardians of a nation’s unity. I care not what may be the errors of the past years, or the futile folly which is these later days has brought the blush of mingled shame and indignation to the face of fair Erin* When the measure of guilt is appraised and the extent of wrongdoing is made manifest, it is not only the sadeyed but resolute —whether he be the man who nursed his wrongs in the North or struck that madly foolish blow in the capital city—‘will be counted culprit. See to it that now you, the politicians, make amends. It is you who are on trial. Wipe out your pastavert your just sentence by playing the statesman and the man. Dry Erin’s tears.