A Complete Story

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 34, 9 September 1925, Page 9

A Complete Story

(By E. N. Myles, in the Irish World.)

John Gilmore was born and “rared” midst the dirt and smoke of London, and had never been more than a few miles from its dingy noisy streets, but he hated the city—green fields and quiet lanes were ever calling him. After his week of toil in a city office, he would spend the Sunday walking in the —living in imagination in a land of wondrous beauty across the rolling waves. He saw the blue mountains, crowned with gold by the rays of the sun, dazzling the eyes with their gorgeous splendor, he saw the heather-covered hills with their white, winding roads —he walked in dreamy happiness along the village of lovely Glandore, with its fuschia-hedged potato, gardens sloping right down-to the sea; he looked into the glorious sunset-tinted water, and saw there the palace of the Fairy King, and all hi? retinue of wee folks—he heard as he walked, the melodious voice of the “Bean a’Tighe” reciting the Rosary in Ireland, and the shrill response of the childher,”. praying for the safe return of their father from the sea, and the croon of an old slumber song, coming from the little- thatched pink-washed cottages. Then as the darkness closed about him, he would wake from his dream and hurry back to the city of dirty, narrow .streets, filled with a longing to run away from them forever to the land of his dreams across the sea. 1 4 John’s mother was born in ‘ (Bandore] in the south of the Go.' Cork, but circumstances had compelled -her to leave 1 her native place; when quite young, •to seek a - living in Lon- ' don.- v : 7; •“'■ ■ : /•••> < : -'V„- ! After several years of ups and downs Mary

THE CALL OF ROSALEEN

, ■ ■ -i Kelly met and married William Gilmore, an r| exile from the Lagan’s banks.' ;|, f Although they were so totally different in *■ opinions— being an ardent admirer . of “William of Orange” —and she clinging to M the old Irish traditions and customs—they lived very happily together. - ; ;; | From the first hour of John’s birth, Lis mother spoke Irish to him — him to sleep with the old Gaelic songs,, and when lie •i| was old enough she told him of all the great heroesof Finn Mac Cool, Ouchulain, Brian ; of Clontarf, Rod Hugh O’Donnell, Owen Roe S O’Neill, and of Sarsfield’s brave stand -for Ireland - of the taxes, tyrannies, treacheries, and plunderings of Elizabeth of the burnings vt and savage, brutal murders of Cromwell; of \ the wars of James and William, and the : broken “Treaty of Limerick,” and of the 4I penal laws of Anne, and of the misery - and' I oppression of Ireland. ~ X v ? John’s father also told him stories of the / “Battle of the Boyne,” with a bigot’s exag- ] gerations of great and noble deeds by the | “Williamites,” and the atrocities of James’s Soldiers. ' 7 i •{ On one point only did William Gilmore t agree with his wife—he loved the beauty of I Ireland. ‘/hlf'i i i Ai v He was never tired of describing the rug- ’: ged grandeur .of Cave Hill, where -he had leaped the rushing torrents, .in ’ search of /i rabbits, or the silver,, winding > Lough- ] stretching from 1 the city of Belfast to Ban- | gor, of ancient scholastic fameof the love- 1\ liness of the meandering River Lagan, , with ' its drooping willows arching over its banks. On one occasion, he told John of a place ; ’ •about six or. seven miles from Belfast, known as “The Giant’s Ring.”

It • is' a flat green plain, hedged round by' •banks of earth, over grown'with grassaway t ;up among the hills, from which there is a a magnificent view of the country for miles "QpluUUu. ». > . i . In the centre is a large flat stone, resting ; on three stones—an ancient Druids’ altar.' f- ■ T . William Gilmore dwelt on the beauty of v the place, and of the steepness of the climb to it, but of its ancient , history he . said not pa word, merely remarking that the stones were supposed to be a Druids’ altar. John’s imagination, however, peopled the sacred spot. ; • r ' He saw the Druids in their long, white robes, performing their rites, , the people gathered devoutly around, the shining swords ,* and shields of the warriors, the watchers at the outposts and the “Red Hand of the O’Neills’’ floating on the breezes. Thus John got glimpses of the north and the south — felt he knew the -places he heard of, and that the sorrows and miseries of the people were his own. He was filled with a g«eat love for the country of his parents, and his one' wish, and heart’s desire, was to help to lift the black cloud of sorrow that was lying so heav- : ily over it. One day his mother received a letter from a brother of hers in Wexford, telling of the persecutions that tv ere going on, and hinting of a rising. . . John, of course, read the letter, drinking in each word as though it were a draught of pure water from the “Fair Hills of Ireland.” He lay, awake all night, thinking, thinking, marching with the men of Ireland against the hosts of England. - Yes, this was the call of “Dark Rosaleen” coming to him o’er the din of the wild ocean ' 7 billows; but how was he to obey the call? His parents were poor, and he had no money of his —not even enough to raise • the fare to Ireland. ■V, Each evening he prowled round the docks, hoping for a stray chance to come his way to take him from England to the land of his dreams and his love. ’ At last, after several fruitless journeys, he chanced to hear that a temporary man was needed for one of the trading vessels ■A plying between London and Dublin, as one of the crew had suddenly fallen ill. He saw the captain, who engaged him, for want of a better man, and he went home to prepare for the voyage, as the ship was sail■j ing at dawn. When his parents had gone to bed, John stole from the house, with a small bundle of clothes, and a few shillings in his pocket. In the morning his mother found a little v note on the table which read thus; :, dv “Darling Mother, —I have heard the call that came over the sea, and have gone to - strike a blow for our much-loved country. i Should I never see you again, dearest heart, do not grieve for me, but count it a joy : • and honor that your son died for Eire of the i;-;/Sorrows. May God keep you safely, and t: pray. Him to give us the victory over our ... enemies. Good-bye, dear mother, and think « sometimes of,your John.” •f The boat sailed slowly out from the docks, and John commenced his new duties.

, He was unaccustomed to heavy work and the pulling ropes and chains cut his handsr/ terribly. It seemed at first that his strength would give way, and many were the , .vulgar. jests : of. the seamen at his .efforts' to lift/and" haul the weights that were but child’s play to them, but he bore them bravely, and as each , day went on, he grew stronger and stronger? At last, after about a week’s very 'rough sailing, they ran into Dublin harbor. It was a grand morning, and John stood on the deck watching the glorious hues of the dawn breaking over the' sky, and lighting up the tops of the Dublin Hills. ' v Never before had he seen so wonderful a sight. ' His heart beat as though : it would burst through his coat, and he felt that he must fall down on his knees in worship of ,: the beautiful hills of “Holy Ireland.” At last he had reached the land .of his dreams, and had set foot upon her sacred soil. \ As he had very-little money he was obliged , to tramp from Dublin to Wexford, sleeping often in open fields, with no other, roof but the sky. He arrived at Wexford very footsore and weary, but His uncle gave him a great welcome, and he soon forgot the troubles and trials of his journey. Wexford was mad with excitement. Everywhere stories were heard of the brutal torturings, house burnings and murders by the English soldiery. John’s uncle was a sworn member of the “United Irishmen,” and intended joining the forces of the brave Father John Murphy that night, and gladly enrolled his nephew among the “Truemen,” furnishing him with a stout pike. . Father John received the brave lad with a hearty handshake, and a “cead mile failte,” but the rest of the company were cold and suspicious. They could not understand why a man should want to come from England to fight for a country he had never seen before. “Sure it’s a spy he is, or for why would he come over from London,” said one man, and many similar remarks both in Irish and English passed around. Poor John was wounded to the heart. He had never dreamt of his own people questioning his motives. On hearing some slighting words in Irish from a man nearby, he ventured to falter out a few phrases in —until then he had been afraid to put out any Irish, in case they should laugh at his accent. When they found that he could speak in the old tongue, they became more friendly, and gradually the nervousness left him and lie was talking quite fluently. The following day—the memorable Whitsun Sunday, May 27, 1798 —was to see the avenging of the burning of Father Murphy’s little chapel and the homes of his innocent parishioners. , k . The good man had done all in his power to put down the insurrection, inducing most of the people to give up their pikes and firearms, but after his chapel was destroyed, * and the people afraid to go near their houses, came to him for protection Arid advice; he * • -. • I -f . . . V

said ; that it would be I better to 1 die ", coura- U* geously 1 on the field than to be - murdered ■ , v v .< r.; •. ■ -v - • '., ci v '- and burnt >in their : own homes. --So thus it ; • came about ythat Father ' John Murphy led the men of Wexford to battle for freedom and liberty. 'j,V ,0 • Led by Father John, they marched to Oulart Hill, - ten miles from Wexford, \ and en- ?' camped there. , ’ ' *%■ Presently, they saw several . corps of yeo- : manry cavalry , riding < towards them/ but keeping at a certain distance from the hill, as though waiting for others to join them.|| Shortly afterwards a body of infantry and cavalry were seen advancing from Wexford. ' Father John ordered his men. to march out against the yeomanry and soldiers mounting the hill, and when they were about •: to commence the attack, to retreat, hurry back to where they were then, and to hide ' in the big old ditch. When the English troops were within a ■ couple of musket shots of the ditch, a few men on each side, and in the centre, stood - up ; and at sight of- them, the whole line v of soldiers fired on them.- * • Immediately Father John and his men rushed out and attacked them while . they were refilling their rifles. The yeomen and soldiers made a good fight, but they were quickly overpowered by - the gallant pikeraen of Father John. V ' With eyes gleaming like two stars, and with strength that seemed more than human, ; the brave boy from the cold land of the 4 tv stranger, moved in the foremost ranks, and yeoman after yeoman went' down before his vigorous pike. ‘ ■ Very few of the great number of soldiers that come out from Wexford ; ever returned there again. ■ / .• -• / rW// This was indeed a glorious day for the “Boys of Wexford.” v>: Towards the end of the conflict, while en- . deavoring to ward off a blow aimed at Father John, a bayonet pierced John Gilmore through the breast, and he fell to 'the/ ground, but was carried to a quiet spot by one of the men. - . . .>. / • ’ .p?, Shortly after the retreat of the yeomen, he passed away from the turmoil of this j world, receiving the Blessed Sacrament from • Father John. . ? w He was buried close to Oulart -Hill, ip the soil of the land he loved so much.