THOMAS DAVIS

New Zealand Tablet, 27 November 1919, Page 11

THOMAS DAVIS

(By T. P. Cummins.)

When boyhood’s fire was in my blood, I read of ancient freemen, For Greece and Rome who bravely stood, Three Hundred Men and Three Men. ' And then I prayed I yet might see Our fetters rent in twain. And Ireland, long a province, be A Nation Once Again.

When the Nation newspaper was founded in 1842 to advance the cause of Irish nationality, Thomas Davis and his associates discovered that the absence of poetical talent in themselves and their contributors left a rather cold prosaicism about the whole tone of the journal. The discovery induced them to unite their ■ efforts in devising remedial measures. They gave the matter very earnest consideration, realising the truth of Fletcher’s remark: “Give me the ballads, and let who will make the laws.” It dawned upon them that the only way to fill up the want was by becoming bards themselves, and by stimulating the bardic spark in others. Utter necessity proved to be the parentor rather one of the parentsof genius. ■ The means, of supplying the poetic needs of the Nation were promptly and vigorously adopted; and, in a comparatively brief period, some of the founders blossomed into poets of much promise, and in time succeeded in kindling the divine flame in not a few of their countrymen and women. After a short year of effort, ballads, songs, and poems breathing an intense nationalism became the favorite themes and items at weddings, the crossroads, in the concert hall, the club, and on the public platform. The simple but earnest words of “A Nation Once Again” awoke the old fires of liberty and reconquest, and helped to arouse in the old a sense of their provincial degradation. Ireland clanked her rusty chains, and the echoes called forth the passionate outpourings of liberated genius from the singers of the nation, and wild longings from the bosoms of the people. It became the hope of the singing patriots to lead their country to the breastworks of freedom, and thence, as Sarsfield, Tone, Emmet had endeavored, to fling back forever the hosts of darkness and destruction. They did not succeed in arriving on heroic ground, but with slogan, cymbal, and drum they beat the ever-young call of the dawn, and the hearts of the people throbbed in expectation. It was portion of the mission of the men and women of the nation, and in particular of Davis, to herald the advent of the sense of self-reliancea spirit force stronger than swords in fighting array, and more awe-inspiring than judges in black caps. Davis senses this strange new force (then for Ireland only sprouting as a frail shoot on the scarred and bleeding trunk of the nation) in the following lines :

Though savage force and subtle schemes,

And alien rule, through ages lasting, Have swept your land like lava streams, Its wealth, and name, and nature blasting; Rot not, therefore, in dull despair, Nor moan at destiny in far lands!

Face not your foe with’ bosom bare, Nor hide your chains in pleasure’s garlands. The wise man arms to combat wrong, The brave man clears a den of lions,

The true man spurns the Helot’s song; The freeman’s friend is Self-Reliance!

Though France, that gave your exiles bread, Your priests a home, your hopes a station, Or that young land where first was spread The starry flag of Liberation, — Should heed your wrongs some future day, And send you voice or sound to plead ’em, With helpful love their help repay, But trust not even to them for Freedom. A nation freed by foreign aid

Is but a corpse by wanton science Convulsed like life, then flung to fade — • The life itself is Self-Reliance.

Then, flung alone, or hand in hand, In mirthful hour, or spirit .solemn; In lowly toil, or high command, In social hall, or charging column: In tempting -wealth, and trying woe, In struggling with a mob’s dictation; In bearing back a foreign foe, In training up a troubled nation: Still hold to truth, abound in Love, Refusing every base compliance Your Praise within, your Prize above, And live and die in Self-Reliance !

. ■ When the editor and his associates discovered that they : themselves ‘must supply the poetic need, Davis; was ' probably the only one who put a damper on their enthusiasm: He had not 4 then developed the spirit of self-reliance. The barrenness ofoutside, iinspiration at. length encouraged Davis to emulate the editor and his frieilds. The little confidence he displayed in his own _ great abilities was at length completely overcome by the dawning truth that he could express himself in appropriate , verse. Poetry enabled him to discover himself, to reach the soul of Ireland, to more than fill the void in the Nation newspaper, and to fire the thoughts and hopes of his own generation, and succeeding generations. Yet his extraordinary and promising outburst of ballad, song, and poem only broke into being about three years before his demise. " The greater number of his poems, and those that have remained the most popular, were written and published in a single year, 1844. Simple, sincere, and unmystical are all his verses, but they fulfilled their object, by supplying the need 'of the time. To the peasantry and the ever-young, hopeful, and loving of all times they will furnish thought and expxession, where a Yeats or Russell would be cast aside as incomprehensible and inconsequent. Davis acquired self-reliance from his wooing of the Muse, and the achievement encouraged him to preach the doctrine and secret of success to others. Gradually the frail shoot developed into a limb of promise and power, and filially in our time blossomed into beauty and strength. The full fruition of the bud of self-reliance has not matured yet : when the fructescence is completed, all the longings of all our heroes; all the hopes, the prayers, and death-pangs of Sarsfield, Tone, Fitzgerald, Emmet, the Plunkets, and Ash shall have been consummated. In “The Right Road” we have Davis again on this important theme :

Let the feeble-hearted pine, Let. the sickly spirit whine, But work and win be thine, While you’ve life. God smiles upon the bold — So, when your flag’s unrolled, Bear it bravely till you’re cold In the strife.

If to rank or fame*you soar, Out your spirit frankly pour— Mon will serve you and adore, Like a king. Woo your girl with honest pride, Till you’ve won her for your bride— Then to her, through time and tide, Ever cling.

Never under wrongs despair; Labor long and. everywhere, Link your countrymen, prepare, And strike home. Thus have great men ever wrought, Thus must greatness still be sought. Thus labored, loved, and fought Greece and Rome.

In one of his essays Davis writes:—“Nationality is no longer an unmeaning or despised name among us. It is welcomed by the higher ranks, it is the inspiration of the bold, and the hope of the people. It is the summary name for many things. It seeks a Literature made by Irishmen, and colored by our scenery, manners, and character. It desires to see Art applied to express Irish thoughts and belief. It would make our Music sound in every parish at twilight, our Pictures sprinkle the walls of every house, and our poetry and history sit at every heart. “It would thus create a race of men full of a more intensely Irish character and knowledge, and to that race it would give Ireland. It would give them the seas of Ireland, to sweep with their nets and launch on with their navy; the harbors of Ireland, to receive a greater commerce than any island in the world; the soil of Ireland to live on, by more millions than starve here now; the fame of Ireland to enhance by their genius and. valor; the Independence of Ireland to guard by laws and arms. He expands the same theme in a verse of much beauty:

A nation’s voice, a nation’s voice—

It is a solemn thing!

It bids the bondage-sick rejoice ’Tis stronger than a king. ’Tis like the light of many stars, The sound of many waves; Which brightly look through prison bars, And “sweetly sound in caves.

Yet it is noblest, godliest known, When righteous triumph swells its tone.

PP^XH s all- v his verse, ; and his prose I may say too, Davis labored to cultivate national feeling, and to arouse , national confidence; he did' not seek a literary fame nor did he pour out his soul in the marts.'- Hence, his verse, though undeveloped, must be estimated apart from the studied beauties and excellences of great poets of leisure, who wrote from motives of expression, personal fame, notoriety, gain, or vanity. He wrote for Ireland to foster nation- : ality, and to arouse nationality. Any comparison between him and the others would be unfair and absurd. Hence, his national verse is indeed the very “blossoming of his own sincere believing soul, and the greatest evidence of its health, excellence, and beauty.” “Its melody is balsam to the senses,” he writes of national poetry. “It is the playfellow of' childhood, ripens into the companion of manhood, consoles' age. It presents the most dramatic events, the largest characters, the most impressive scenes, and the deepest passions, in the language most familiar to us. It magnifies and ennobles our hearts, our intellects, our country, and our countrymenbinds us to the land by its condensed and gem-like history ; to the future by example and aspiration. It solaces us in travel, fires us in action, prompts our invention, sheds a grace beyond the power of luxury round our Ifbmes, is the recognised envoy of our minds among all mankind, and to all time.” Some of the finest and most soul-stirring of Davis’s national and historical verse are such pieces as “The West's Awake,” “A Nation Once Again,” “The True Irish King,” “The Geraldines.” “The Fate of King Dathi” is a poem of .' much faithful imagery. Whoever that has heard or read “Fontenoy” and “The Battle Eve of the Brigade” for the first time can subdue the wellings of the fighting spirit that surge up within as the themes lead up to the tents of the “Wild Geese,” their toasts and carousals, the battle, the victory of the exiles, , and’ the last sad scenes the unknown, unmarked graves of those brave wild sons of Irish peasants “from Dunkirk to Belgrade.” One who knew and loved Davis truthfully wrote of his poetry: —“It is a mere garland of flowers, whose fruit was doomed never to ripen; a reliquary of undeveloped genius, but recently awakened to a consciousness of its own power.” Davis died young; but not before he breathed a portion of his own fervid spirit into the mind of his country. He delivered his message, and passed quietly away into the realm of realities the blinding vividness of everlasting beauty, love, and freedom, where, let us piously hope, all pure, true, simple, kindly men ind women shall realise the fulness of themselves in Him Who is the Chief est Eternal Good.