My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 1 (of 3): A Chronicle of Ireland, from the Convention to the UnionWingfield, Lewis
History
My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 1 (of 3): A Chronicle of Ireland, from the Convention to the Union
Wingfield, Lewis
Historical fiction; Ireland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
Attentive Europe admired the position of Ireland at this moment. A
change was creeping across the world of which this situation was a
natural result. A cloud, like a man's hand, had arisen on the horizon
of America, which in time was to overshadow the globe. A warlike fever
possessed the Irish people. They became imbued with an all-engrossing
fervour, an epidemic of patriotism. The important question was, could
they keep it up? Irish veterans, who had fought under Washington,
returned home invalided, to thrill their audience by the peat fire
with tales that sounded like fairy lore of Liberty and Fraternity and
Freedom of Conscience; to whisper that their country was a nation, not
a shire; that an end must be put to bigotry, that accursed twin-sister
of religion; that if the King of England wished to rule the Isle of
Saints, he must do so henceforth by right of his Irish, not his
English, crown, governing each kingdom by distinct laws according to
its case.
High and low were stricken with the new enthusiasm; some generously,
some driven by shame to assume a virtue which they had not. Laird,
squire, and shopkeeper--all donned the Volunteer uniform. All looked,
or affected to look, to the eagle of America as a symbol of a new
hope. A race of serfs were transformed into a nation of soldiers. Many
really thought themselves sincere who fell away when their own
interests became involved.
And this sudden upheaving was at first without danger to the body
politic. The French Revolution, with its overturning of social grades,
had yet to come. Classes found themselves for a brief space thrown
together, between whom usually a great gulf was fixed, and the
temporary commingling was, by giving a new direction to the mind, for
the mutual benefit of both. The very singularity of such a state of
things (in an age before democratic principles began to obtain) showed
a seriousness of purpose which caused the ruling spirits of the new
military association to carry all before them by the impetus of
self-respect. Their mother had suffered bitterly and long; no one
denied that. The time was come for her rescue. The task was arduous,
but the cause was excellent. It behoved her sons then to raise their
minds above the trammels of the earth--to become Sir Galahads--for was
not their task to the full as pious as the mystic quest after the
Grail? It behoved them, while the holy fervour lasted (alas! man is
unstable at the best, and the Irishman more so than most), to set
their house thoroughly in order, and the powerless English Cabinet
from across the Channel watched the operation with anxiety.
When a wedge is inserted in so unnatural a bundle as this was, it will
speedily fall asunder, and that which was a formidable coalition will
be reduced to a ridiculous wreck. Who was to insert the wedge? Would
time alone do it, or would perfidious aid from London be required?
That it should be inserted somehow, was decided _nem. con_. in London.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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