The Irish review

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The Irish review

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Title:
The Irish review
Publisher:
The Irish Review Pub. Co.
Publication Date:
Language:
English
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1 online resource

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Ireland -- Civilization -- Periodicals ( lcsh )
Ireland -- Literatures -- Periodicals ( lcsh )
Genre:
serial ( sobekcm )
Time Period:
1911 - 1914

Notes

General Note:
A monthly magazine of Irish literature, art & science.
General Note:
Mostly in English, with some Irish Gaelic.

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Source Institution:
University of South Florida Library
Holding Location:
University of South Florida
Rights Management:
All applicable rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier:
027002452 ( ALEPH )
01639751 ( OCLC )
I22-00004 ( USFLDC DOI )
i22.4 ( USFLDC Handle )

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Irish Studies

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serial

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. THE r IRfSH REVIEW" A MONTHLY MAGAZINE OF -IRISH LITERATURE_, ART fsf SCIENCE lE E. Creagh Kittson Justin Philips Osborn Daniel Corkery Bligh TalbotCrosbie Edmm1d Curtis Miriam Alexander MARCH, 1913 .. Picture-The Plough and the Earth Spirit Irish Schools : An Exhortation The Land Purchase Deadlock Two Poems on the Shannon The Spanceled : Story The Story of James Fitz.Stephen, Mayor of Galway : Ballad The Wars of Turlogh: an Historical Document Irish History in English Magazines Reviews of Books DUBLIN THE IRISH REVIEW PUBLISHING COMPANY 12 D'OLIER STREET LONDON SIMPKIN MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT /k CO. SOLE AGENTS FOR THE COLONIES GORDON & GOTCH, Lm., LONDON AUSTRALIA, CANADA, Ktt. EDINBURG ff MENZIES & CO., HANOVEk STREET SOLE AGENTS FOR AMERICA THE FOUR SEAS CO., SCHOOL STREET, BOSTON. I

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THE POEM-BOOK OF THE GAEL Translations from Irish Gaelic Poetry into English Prose and Verse Selected and Edited by Eleanor Hill With binding, design, title page and initials reproduced from Celtic Manuscripts In small crown Svo., cloth, gilt top, 6/net CHATTO & WINDUS. PUBLISHERS 111 ST. MARTIN'S LANE. LONDON. W. C. POETRY AND DRAMA A quarterl y p e riodical d evo t e d t o the c riticism and appreciation of modern poetry and drama of all c ountries, published on the 15th March, June, September and Dec ember, at the Poetry Bookshop, 35 Devonshire Street, Theo balds Road London, W .C. Each issue contains : Articles on s ubjects relating to poetr y Original work by modern poets. Criticism of important c urr e nt books of poetry, biography and the art of the theatre. A sur vey o f American, French, Italian, and German literature, and the drama. Annual suscription ros. 6d net post free. Separate copies, 2s. 6d. net each. In connexion with P OETRY AND DRAMA, a Bookshop has been opened for the sale of poet ry, and all booK's, pamphlets, and periodicals connected directl y or indire c tly with poetry. Orders for foreign books and periodicals will be promptly executed. For further information call, or write to The Poetry Bookshop, 35 Devonshire Street, Theobalds Road London W.C. A BROADSIDE. 5th Year. With Ballads by Ballad Sin g ers, living and dead; and with drawings by Jack B. Yeats. (Handcoloured). Published monthly: first number published in June, 1908. Subscription twelve shilling a year post free. A few complete sets from the commencement still for sale. CUALA PRESS, DUlfDllUM, COUltTY DUBLIN, IRELAlfD.

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IB!SH REVIEW MARCH 1918

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THE I RISH REVIEW d MONTHLY MAGAZINE OF IRISH LITERATURE. el.fR T & SCIENCE MARCH, I9IJ IRISH SCHOOLS: AN EXHORTATION By E. CREAGH KITTSON THE present age is not an age of faith. In regard to educa tion in particular people are inclined to be sceptical ; the man who thinks he can regenerate a nation by means of education is not encouraged to think he is in the right. People tell us-scientific people-that there are mighty forces at work, such as heredity and environment, on which education can have but little effect; that, properly considered, education is only a part of environ ment, and a very small part. It can't accomplish much. The educational enthusiast is only a dreamer. This is what is called scientific thought. However scientific it may be, it quite evidently leads to pure fatalism; and if it be the mission of science to teach us fatalism, the sooner we turn from her guidance the better, and look for light elsewhere. We shall find a more wholesome inspira tion in the pages of history. Let us consider for a moment the part played by education in the history of Prussia between the years 1806 and 1813. I VOL. III.-NO. :15

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THE IRISH REVIEW In the year 1806 was fought the battle of Jena. This battle was a 0rilliant and decisive victory for the French, and placed Prussia for the succeeding eight years under the heel of Napoleon. Frederick William III. continued indeed to rule in name, but the actions of the Prussian government were dictated by Napoleon, and nobody could hope to attain to or hold any high office in the kingdom who was suspected of any desire to throw off the yoke of the con queror. In this case also there were not wanting men who were willing to sell their souls and make terms with the oppressor. The patriotism of the Prussian people fell low. But there was one man who, in the face of these humiliating circumstances, never lost for one moment his intellectual and moral integrity; this man was the philosopher Fichte, probably the greatest idealist that ever lived, with the exception of Plato. Fichte was deeply distressed at the degraded state in which he saw his country; he resolved to breathe into her new life and awaken her from her apathy. With this object in view he began, in 1808, to deliver in Berlin, at a time when the capital was actually garrisoned by French troops, his famous Addresses to the German Nation." These addresses are a power ful appeal to the patriotism of his fellow-countrymen; but they are something more. In language which is direct, lofty and profoundly earnest, he explains to his hearers in philosophic terms what freedom is and what servitude is. He tells them that they must become free, if they are to exist; and in order that they may gain their freedom the first thing necessary is that a moral change should take place within themselves-each Prussian must become a new being, a different being from what he was before, he must gain a new ego. He illustrates his teaching by constant references to history, religion and ethics. He by no means disguises the magnitude of the task before them; he insists on the fact that whatever they accomplish they must accomplish by themselves alone. No man, no God I translate freely-" and no circumstance in the whole realm of possibility can help us; but we must help ourselves, if we are to be helped." Fichte was no mere dreamer; he saw clearly what was to be accomplished and the means by which it wa5 to be accomplished. 2

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IRISH SCHOOLS : AN EXHORTATION The means by which he proposed to bring about the desired change in the minds of his countrymen was education. From the very beginning he pleaded for an enlightened system of education, which, lifting its pupils above the selfish pursuit of petty interests, should inspire them with a noble zeal for the common welfare. Selfishness and particularism, he claimed, had ruined Germany; only the adoption of a national system of education could cure these deep-seated evils and inspire the people, irrespective of class and creed, with a love for the whole German race."* Fichte saw his educational ideals realised. Next year (1809) Wilhelm von Humboldt was appointed Minister of Public Instruc tion; primary and secondary schools were reformea ; a commission was sent to Switzerland to study the educational theories of Pesta lozzi, the Swiss reformer; and, most important of all, two new universities were founded, one at Breslau and the other at Berlinthe latter now, beyond doubt, the most efficient university in the world. It is interesting -to bear in mind that these reforms were carried out at a time when Prussia was in great financial straits; Fichte himself at once accepted the chair of philosophy at the new university of Berlin at a salary ridiculously small. His influence there was seen in the large numbers of students and professors who took up arms when, in 1813, after Napoleon's disastrous Russian campaign, the hour came for Prussia to strike. In the ensuing war, ending in Napoleon's defeat at Leipzig and his ultimate overthrow and banishment to Elba, Fichte served as a common soldier; and when he died in the following year it was not before he saw his country proud and free, rich in all that makes a living nation. In the pages of history much of the credit for Prussia's re-awak ening is given to the statesmen and administrators of the time, such as von Stein, Hardenberg, von Humboldt, and Scharnhorst. While not withholding from such men the praise due to them, one finds it difficult to believe that they could ever have achieved their *Cambridge Modern History vol. ix 3

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THE IRISH REVIEW had not Fichte prepared the way for them by firing men's minds with his lofty idealism. What he taught is true, that whatever great changes we seek to bring about must first take place in men's minds; and we get at the minds of men through education. Now we in Ireland do not want to win any battle of Leipzig; but there has been of late years a remarkable tendency on the part of all classes of Irishmen towards national regeneration, and it is certainly desirable that education should play its due part in this movement. There is probably no other force whatever that could do so much to create a strong, reasonable and enthusiastic national feeling. The most important thing any school has to do anywhere or at any time is to teach good citizenship. While this is the thing most wanted in Irish education, it is also the thing most neglected. Irish education, however, is a very tangled skein, and it is here proposed to speak of one class of schools only-Irish Protestant secondary schools. The Irish Protestants are a peculiar people. Strangers in the land of their birth, still they are Irish. How Irish they are they sometimes never discover until they go to live in England. There is ten times as much difference between an Irish Protestant Unionist and an Englishman as there is between the same Unionist and the most extreme Catholic Nationalist. Moreover, the Irish Protestant cannot live among Englishmen without feeling his superiority over them-for he is easily their superior in intelligence, in enterprise, and in taste. But to what he himself ascribes this superiority of which he is conscious, it would be hard to say, for it is to nothing else but his Irish up-bringing and his kinship with the gifted race whose political aspirations he affects to despise. The Irish Protestant is a man without a country; and no man is a complete man unless he has a country to love, and loves that country. He tries to extricate himself from this position by calling himself an Imperialist, forgetting that an empire is not a country but a collection of countries. This state of things, however, is rapidly changing for the befrer: the Irish Protestants are waking up to the fact that they are Irish and that they are not altogether abso1ved from taking some interest in the 4

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IRISH SCHOOLS : AN EXHORTATION affairs of the country that gave them birth An Irish Protestant Home Rule Association formed quite recently in London acquired a wide membership in an extraordinarily short space of time, and held a most enthusiastic and crowded meeting at the Farringdon Mem orial Hall. It got innumerable letters of encouragement and support from all parts of Ireland. There are many other signs of the growth of Protestant Nationalism, and it will go on growing. Irish schools, however, do not play their part in this work. In the first place, many parents send their children to be educated in England. As a master in an English Public School, the writer has often been asked to recommend English schools to Irish parentsnot all of them Protestants-but he has always discountenanced the idea of sending Irish boys to England, for various reasons. In the first place, the Irish are an intellectual race; the English certainly are not intellectual. The Irish people are spiritual and tend to follow after the things of the mind; the English are not spiritual and tend rather to follow after the things of the body. The Irish people have also more refined taste and greater delicacy of feeling than the English. These characteristics of the two nations are reflected in their schools, and the result is that the Irish boy sent to be educated at an English school is placed in an environment less favourable than that to which he rightfully belongs, and the parents who so treat him are doing him an irreparable wrong. It is not contended that the English Public Schools have no good qualities, or that Irish schoolmasters could learn nothing from the n but that they are not the ideal institutions some Irish parents fond! v imagine them to be will be apparent from the following extract from an article in the English Review by Mr. A. C. Benson. Mr. Benson was for twenty years a master at Eton, and has been for the past ten years a tutor at Magdelene College, Cambridge; he ought there fore to know what he is writing about. He says : Let it be plainly faced that there is very little demand for culture at all in England, and very little apprehension of what it is. Culture in the best sense is a certain zest of mind and nimbleness of apprehension; it betrays itself, as it did among the Greeks, in a lively intellectual c uriosit y a keen appreciation of beauty, an interest in thought, a horror, not of ignorance so much as of 5

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THE IRISH REVIEW dulne1ts; a desire to apprehend ideas, to discuss them, to appreciate them; the exact opposite of culture is the frame of mind so common among Englishmen which expresess itself by saying that one is glad that one does not know so much about a subject as old So-and-so, because it must be awfully dull! A mind in that condition cannot connect the increase of knowledge with any multiplication of pleasure; another sign of the absence of culture is the habit of deriding the studies of other specialists; a classical man who talks contemptuously about dry mathematical formulae, or a mathematical man who speaks insolently about Greek roots, are alike uncultured men, unable to conceive of mental activity except on their own private lines. A lack of imaginative sympathy in intellectual matters is a sure sign of intellectual barbarism. '' Culture is not an accomplishment, it is an atmosphere; but the English view of it is that it is a special sort of accomplishment, like high-jumping, which a man may indulge in if he does it well enough to make it profitable either in money or reputation. Culture is a thing you take up, if it pays. The whole thing is thought eclectic and amateurish, and is only justified on grounds of profitable specialism. The reason why the public schools do not tend to produce culture is partly that the parents do not demand it or desire it, partly that schoolmasters themselves too often dislike it, partly the lack of time and the aridity of the curriculum. It is not exactly despised; but it is a thing which you may do, but need not do, and in any case must not talk about in public. '' The normal Englishman has in this respect advanced very little beyond the normal Anglo-Saxon of the time of Beowulf; it is rather awful to track a vein of hereditary temperament back into the ages, and to find an Anglo-Saxon hero whose chief occupations were the amassing of treasures, predatory or complimentary, and the bragging about his exploits over his cups. We cannot, perhaps, do much to change national temperament; but let us not delude ourselves in the matter. Let us face the fact that culture is a thing not valued, and rather suspected; that it is thought to be an occupation for people who 'tave not got to earn their living, and who may work off their energies over artistic tastes and little refinements of speech. There is no diffusion of culture; it is a secluded pursuit. But deeper down is the absence of all demand for intellectual curiosity No amount of elegant persiflage or of prophetic bitterness will mend thaf! A public school provides a healthy, active, manly life, good discipline, plenty of air and exercise. The parent wants that, and he swallows the curriculum for the sake of it. 'Let 'em 'ave it!' said the vulgar parent to the schoolmaster who talked of the curriculum, believing it to be an instrument of flagellation. It is as though stimulants could only be obtained at grocers' shops by a boo. fide customer. A man who wants brandy will then consent to buy an egg, even if it be addled; and a parent who wants the active, pleasant, wholesome, 6

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IRISH SCHOOLS: AN EXHORTATION spirited life of the public school for a boy will take it at the price of a poor intellectual education, and only grumble a little at the end when he finds that his boy knows hardly any classics, and has no sort of practical efficiency in other" lines. As for culture! Well, that is an affected and stuffy thing, and the boy had better be without it; it is nearly as bad as mysticism or sacerdotalism; not even the fashion The present writer would yield to nobody in his enthusiasm for physical education; but what reason has anybody for believing that Irish air is less beneficial than English air, or that Irishmen love sport less? And as far as intellectual and moral education are concerned, the Irish have more natural genius for them as any country in Europe. The old heroic tales of Ireland, with the high chivalry that they teach, provide such excellent reading matter for early youth that other countries are rapidly seizing on them and making use of them ; Ireland alone remains behind. Some years ago, for instance, when Mr. Standish O'Grady offered his delightful "Finn and his Companions" as a reading book to the National Board, his offer was promptly rejected. It is not suggested that the minds of coming generations should be encouraged to dwell unduly on the past; but such teaching should be given as will lead them to feel pride in belonging to a country with such high and noble traditions; they should be taught the history of Ireland in an enlight ened manner-a thing scarcely done anywhere at present; and above all they should be taught that their first duty is to her, that they should serve and cherish her through weal and through woe, through good report and through bad report. It would be fitter for Irish parents to develop their own schools on these lines than to send their children abroad to be educated by strangers.

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THE LAND PURCI--IASE DEADLOCK A WAY OUT By JUSTIN PHILLIPS IN the February number of the Irish Review, I reviewed the work accomplished under the various Land Purchase Acts from 1885 to 1912, and in the present article I submit a plan for effectively and finally disposing of the Land Purchase Problem. It is an aid towards making a workable suggestion, that we are in a position to know exactly what the demands of the tenants are and the amount of loss to which the landlords will submit. The tenant has been consistent in his demand for a fair reduc tion in his future annuity as compared with the rent previously paid by him. The average percentage of reduction secured, under the various Acts, is as follows : Acts of 1885, 1891, 1896 Act of 1903 Act of 1909 Thus the tenants who purchased under the Act of 1909 obtained better terms than those who purchased under the Act of 1903, and furthermore, pay for a shorter period-65! years-while those who purchased under the Acts of 188 5, 1891 and 1896 fared still better, as the period for repayment is fixed at 49 years. In the past, tenants consistently demanded a 30 per cent. reduction in the r e nts totally ignoring the remote effect of the shorter p e riod for repayment. The Estates Commissioners have recognised the tenants' view of the matter, as in cases where prices were fixed or agreed to, on the assumption that the annuity would be at the rate of 3t per cent., but where, through the passing of the Act of 1909, the rate was changed to 3! per cent., the Estates Comissioners, on revising the prices, considered the relation between the rent and the annuity without re g ard to the duration of the period for repayment, and reduced the agreed price by one-fourteenth, thus leaving the tenants' annuity unaltered. With State recognition of the tenant's claim to a reduction of 30 per cent. in his annuity as compared with his rent, it is safe to assume that in future land legislation this claim will be recognised, 8 /

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THE LAND PURCHASE DEADLOCK and that no attempt will be made to lower the percentage of reduc tion secured under previous Acts. The tenant has stated his terms, and they have been recognised as just. Under the Act of 1909 owners of unsold Estates, to gra:it this demanded reduction to the tenants, must sell their estates c:..t 20 years' purchase of the rents, whereas under tlie Act of 1903 they secured, on an average, 22! years' purchase of the rents. The result to the landlord, on a sale under the Act of 1903 at such terms, on an assumed rent of mo, is as follows: s d. mo at 22! years' purchase 2,250 0 0 Invested at, say, 3! per cent. Income 78 15 0 Loss on Income from investment as compared with rent 21 5 0 If, under the Act of 1909, he secured a similar number of years' purchase, the figures would be as follows : s. d. mo at 22-! years' purchase 2,250 0 0 Paid in 3 per cent. Stock, Income 67 IO 0 Loss as compared with rent 32 IO 0 Cash value of Stock at 81 ,..2,022 0 0 Loss on realisation of Stock 228 0 0 I am, of course, assuming that the bonus payable on the purchase money would, in both cases, be just sufficient to pay the legal costs and other expenses of sale negotiations. Let us face the facts of the situation and endeavour to realise exactly how matters stand at the moment. The Tenant must have a reduction of 30 per cent. in his rent. The Landlord cannot be asked to sell at a loss of more than 25 per cent. on his income, and is justified in his demand that the purchase money must be paid, either in cash, or in stock equal in value at the price of the day. The State must bear the greater proportion of the loss consequent on the Sto c k being at a discount. There is, therefore, only one course open to the Governmentto advance the purchase money in Guaranteed 3 per cent. Stock equal in cash value, at the market price of the day to the amonnt of the agreed purchase money. Assuming that 3 per cent. Stock stood at 80, it would be necessary to issue to the landlord Stock to the nominal value of for every to be paid to him The actual cash value of this amount of Stock would be mo. 9.

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THE IRISH REVIEW Furthermore, by giving the landlord 3 per cent. Stock to the nominal value of ., he would receive interest at the rate of Ji per cent. on every agreed of purchase money, and the result of a sale would work out as follows : Amount of Stock if price is 80, nominal Assumed rent at 20 years' purchase value At 3 per cent. Income Loss on Income as compared with rent s. d. 2,000 0 0 a o 75 0 0 I am again assuming that the bonus would be just sufficient to pay the legal and other expenses of sale proceedings. Now the tenant s demand for a 30 per cent. reduction is met. The landlord only suffers a loss of 25 per cent. on his income from Stock as compared with his income formerly derived from land, and e ncumbered landlords, to whom the Act of 1909 is ruinous, could pay their mortgagees and other creditors without being put to con siderable loss. The question of who is to bear the loss through insufficiency of income has now to be dealt with. The tenant would be liable for the payment of the interest on Stock to the amount of his agreed purchase money, but could not be made liable for interest on the excess Stock issued. Would the State undertake to pay the interest on the excess Stock? It is very doubtful if liability for the entire sum would be undertaken. Therefore the way out of the difficulty is to apportion this liability between the State and the Irish rate payer, by making the State liable for interest on the excess Stock issued, to the extent of .i of every excess of issued, while the ratepayer would become liable for the interest on .-of every excess of 5 issued. The Government should further undertake, while Stock stood at or below 85 5-7, to pay at all times interest on excess Stock up to .j. The ratepayers maximum liability would be for interest on .-l of Stock, while the liability on the part of the State would be limited to interest on .f of Stock. If Stock should fall below 80--which is highly improbable-the landlord should bear the loss. Should Land Stock increase in price, the liability of the Irish ratepayer would diminish, and his liability would have disappeared when Stock would have risen to 8 5 5-7. As it further increased in price, the liability of the State would diminish in due proportion. In short, it amounts to this, while Land Stock varies in price IO

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THE LAND PURCHASE DEADLOCK between 85 5-7 and par, the State undertakes all liability for interest on excess Stock; between 85 5-7 and 80 the ratepayers undertake liability for interest on the difference between the price of the day and 85 5-7; below 80 the landlord bears the loss. Under present arrangements this Stock would be redeemable at par in 1939, but in view of the fact that the landlord got the full market value when the purchase money was paid to him, the Stock should be redeemable at the price of the day 011 which issued. Thus of Stock, issued when the price was would be redeemable in 1939 at that price. The amount of loss through insufficiency of income, which each county should bear, should be calculated in proportion to the amount advanced in that county, and the State could deduct the necessary sum from the Agricultural Grant payable to the Count y Councils under the Local Government (Ireland) Act, 1898. The State could take the sum necessary to pay off its own liability from the Guarantee Fund, and for this purpose Parliament should be asked to vote an extra ,000,000 in each year for the first three years during which the Act is iv force-:,000,000 in all -to be placed to the credit of that Fund. Should this system of payment be a dopted, the respective liability on the part of the ratepayer and the State would work out as follows: Total advance in each year Of which, if Stock is at 80, there is excess Interest on excess Stock at 3 per cent. Two-thirds paid by State One-third paid by Ratepayers 5,000,000 l,000,000 30,000 20,000 10,000 Thus, under the very worst conditions, the liability on the part of the Agricultural Ratepayers would not exceed ,000; and as the total rateable value of all the agricultural land in Ireland is .,054,122, the sum necessary to meet this loss would amount to just a farthing extra in the on the rates on agricultural land, for every ,000,000 advanced to complete Land Purchase. As the Stock increased in price this liability would grow less. It is not too much to expect that Guaranteed 3 per cent. Stock will go as high as 85 5-7 in the near future Then the ratepayer's liability ceases In case Guaranteed 3 per cent. Stock should so increase in price as to be quoted at a premium, then the premium should not go II

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THE IRISH REVIEW to the landlord, but should be retained by the State. The landlord should, under all circumstances, get an amount of Stock which, at the market price of the day, is equal, in cash value, to the amount of the agreed purchase money. The excess of income so realised should be divided between the State and the ratepayer, regard being had to the respective proportion of liability actually borne. The amount credited to the Agricultural Grant should be shared by the counties in proportion to the amount of loss actually borne by each county. Having regard to the arrears of rent usually wiped out oy the landlord, when the sale of an estate is being carried out, and bearing in mind the heavy legal expenditure incurred by the landlord while negotiating the sale, the rate of bonus should not be lower than 10 per cent., and should be calculated on a sliding scale similar to that adopted under the Act of 1909. Every one is agreed that Land Purchase should be completed. The future welfare of Ireland is at stake Under the scheme which I have outlined the ratepayer's portion of the burden would not be considerable; and when we consider the benefits to be gained through increased prosperit y the saving to the rates through the absence of malicious injury claims and extra Police, it is evident that, financially, the county ratepayers will profit considerably. The task is all but complete. A slight readjustment of the machinery is all that is now necessar y Who would mar the splendid work by haggling ov e r the last penny? I :Z

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TWO POEMS ON THE SHANNON I. Diarmaid 0 Briain cct. 1 A Shionainn Bhriain Bh6roimhe, iongnadh is mead do ghaire, mar sguire clod ghl6raighe, ag dol siar isin saile 2 Gluaise laimh re B6roimhe, teighe laimh re Ceann Choradh, ag moladh Mhic Mh6r-Mhuire, go brath brath as binn t'foghar. 3 An port as a dteighesi, 6 Shliabh Iarainn, ga neimhcheilt, 16r a luaithe teighisi tre Loch Ribh tre Loch nDeirghheirc. 4 Ag dol tar Eas nDanainne nocha nfheadthar do chuibhreach; as ann do-ni an ramhaille, ag dola laimh re Luimneach. 5 0 L uimneach an mhearshaile go dteighe a n Inis Cathaigh, laimh re port ar Seanainne, caidhe th' imtheacht 'na dheaghaidh? 6 Fa imlibh ar bhfearainne meinic theighe in gach ionam, ar ais tar Eas Danainne, ag dul san bhfairge a Shionann. 7 B6inn is Siuir is Sein-Leamhain agus Suca na[ ch J sriobhmall, adeirit na deighleabhair gurab uaisle tu a Shionann 13

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THE IRISH REVIEW II. Tadhg Og 0 Huiginn cct. 1 A Shionann Chuinn Cheadchathaigh, deacair leanmhain do leimeann : nocha nfhaca h'entsamhail leath a bhus do mhuir Eireann. 2 A mhaighreach bhog bhairrleabhair, iomdha fiodh al uinn umad : m6r an eagc6ir t'ainmneaghadh 6 dhuine d'fhearaibh Mumhan. 3 Duthcha dhuit bheith againne, da bhf eachtha dona fathaibh : Gleann Gaibhle as e t'athairsi, an Bhreifne as i do mhathair. 4 Mar mhusglas do mh6r-bhuinne goirid bheag 6 Shliabh Raisean, nochan 6 Bhrian Bh6roimhe do budh c6ir bheith dot bhaisdeadh. 5 Da ndearnta-sa orainne, 6 do cuireadh thu a seilbh mbreige, do-bhearmaois do chomhairle duit iompudh clod thir feine. 6 A bhuinne mhall mhin-iasgach, fan hiomdha adhbha earlamh, 6 do-nf sealbh sfr-iasacht, ni racha tu ar a ndeanamh. 7 Do-ghean-sa do chosnamh-sa le Diarmaid ar son dana, agus cosnaid Connachtaigh ris tu ar thoradh lamha. 8 Mas uime do iarradar tu ar bheith laimh re Luimneach, do bhadhus a niarmhumhain, 'snocha dearna dhfom Muimhneach. 14

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TWO POEMS ON THE SHANNON 9 As leathtrom an t-ordachadh do shiol Bhriain bheith dar sreabhaibh, 'snach abraid siol cConchobhair gurab le6 Laoi n6 Leamhain. 10 Da madh le gach comharsain fonn gach fir oile, a Shionann, maseadh is do Chonnachtaibh leath amuigh dhiot, a Shionann. l l Muimhnigh ma do-rinneadar sealbh dot bhuinne saor sriobhard, cred do-bheir ar Mhidheachaibh gan dol ad sheilbh a Shionann? l 2 Ceisd iongnadh ort agoinde, a Chriosd thoicthigh gach ionam, nar cuireadh a n-aithearrach abhann romhad, a Shionann? l 3 Abair riom, a Ogh-Mhuire, chuirios blath fiond ar fhiodhcholl, cred tug ar Bhrian B6roimhe gan dol ad sheilbh a Shionann? 14 Roinntear Eire fh6id-ghreanta le Fionntan, mar fuair Iollann, ataoi-si don ch6igeadh-sa 6 shoin anuas, a Shionann. Translation I. Diarmaid 0 Briain sang : l 0 Shannon of Brian Boraimhe, the wonder and the greatness of thy smile, as thou stillest thy voice, going westwards into the sea! 2 Thou movest beside Boraimhe, thou goest near to Cenn Coradh, praising Great Mary's Son, for ever thy voice is sweet. 15

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THE IRISH REVIEW 3 The spot from which thou comest is Sliabh Iarainn-I hide it not-full speedily thou goest through Loch Ree and Loch Derg. 4 Going over Eas Danainne (Dunass Rapids) thou canst not be held in check : then it is that thou lingerest, when passing west wards from Limerick. 5 From Limerick of the rushing tide, till thou comest to lnis Cathaigh; past the dwelling of our own Seanan, whither goest thou thereafter? 6 Around the borders of our land often dost thou go, yea always, and again over Eas Danainne, going into the sea, 0 Shannon. 7 The Boyne and the Suir and the ancient Laune, and swift streamed Suca, good books declare that thou art nobler than they, 0 Shannon. II. Tadhg Og 0 Huiginn sang: 1 0 Shannon of Conn of the Hundred Fights, it is hard to follow thy leaps: I have not seen one like thee on this side of Ireland's sea 2 0 sa lmonful stream, of soft, smooth surface, many a lovely wood surrounds thee: a great wrong it were to name thee from an y of the men of Munster. 3 B y natur e thou art ours, if sound reasons be regarded: Glen Gavlin is thy father, Brefne y is thy mother. 4 As thy mighty current awakens but a little space from Sliev Rushel, it is not after Brian Boraimhe that it were right to christen thee. 5 If thou wouldest be said b y me, since thou hast been taken into fraudulent possession I would counsel thee to turn back to thine own land 6 0 stately river of smooth fish, on whose bank is many a habita tion of saints, since unending loan makes possession, thou shalt not go at their disposal.

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TWO POEMS ON THE SHANNON 7 I will in verse defend thee against Diarmaid, and the men of Connacht defend thee against him by the strength of their hands. 8 If this is their claim to thee, that thou passest by Limerick, I have been in West Munster, and it has not made me a Mun sterman. 9 It is an unjust arrangement that the Children of Brian should meddle with our rivers, while the Children of Conchobhar do not say that the Lee or the Laune is theirs. IO If each man's land always belongs to his neighbour, why theri the men of Connacht own the land beyond thee, 0 Shannon. 11 If the men of Munster have taken possession of thy noble, swelling current, why do not the men of Meath claim thee, 0 Shannon? r 2 I have a strange question for thee (0 Christ blessed for ever!) has any other river been put before thee, 0 Shannon? 13 Tell me, 0 Virgin Mary, that bringest the white blossom upon the hazel in the wood-why did not Brian Boraimhe take pos session of thee, 0 Shannon? 14 Ireland of beautiful swards was divided by Finntan, as Iollann found; from that time onwards thou are part of this province, 0 Shannon. NoTE.-The above graceful verses are part of a poetic debate of a common type, of which the best known example is the so-called Contention of the Bards at the beginning of the 17th century. In the present case each of the disputants wrote a second poem, and finally the case was summed up by a third poet, who decided on historical grounds that the Shannon was a Northern river. Boraimhe, or Borumha, which suggested the dispute is the old fortress on the bank of the Shannon, from which Brian took his title. The date of the poems is uncertain. O'Reilly assigns the first to the year 16oo But if the second poet is the well-known one of the name, the dispute must be referred to the r 5th century. Both poems are found in the Book of the O'Conor Don, written at Ostende in 163:1, but I have followed rather the text of a MS. in the Royal Irish Academy. OSBORN BERGIN. 17

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THE SPANCELED By DANIEL CORKERY THE pair of them, spanceled in two such different ways, met, or rather slipped into acquaintanceship, in the most hap hazard way in Mike Larrymore's meadowland. As to her : if you saw only her brow and eyes-so shapely, so guileless, open, clear-your heart would pity her because of her burden; but when you marked the shapeless jaw and _mouth-the upper lip, long, full, protruding, the lower dragged a little to one side as by some influence of the retreating chin-you could not but reflect that, after all, the man, her husband, who on his death-bed spanceled her so effectually with a few lines in his will might have had his own thought in doing so. Upper and lower face so different, the general effect was strange and uncertain-shyness, wildness, passion seemed to be continually deepening or softening into one another. The day her husband, Pat Lenihan, was laid in Kilvurrish, they say she smiled. Her six long years of drudgery were over. Henceforth if she stayed up all night to see that the sow didn t smother her young, or if her day's work happened to be in a dripping mountainy field clearing it of stones her wages when the task was done would not be the bitter c urse of a consumptive, who, finding life slipping from him, spent his day s in gazing with his hopeless e y es on the three c hildren play ing about the earthy floor -in gazing on them, thinking what would happen when he was gone Quiet enough he died, singing old tunes in a sort of stupor that at the end c ame to comfort him Then the biteen of land on the steep-down, rock-strewn hillside was hers ; and she was still strong, young and not uncomely. But if she smiled on that wild wintry day while he was being laid in Kilvurrish, the grave-diggers looking quite bla c k and huge in th e sombre sunset, she had not then learnt the terms of the will. That same night when she came to know them she flung his relations from the door, bolted it and standing in the middle of the turf-lit room looked wildly from one child to another as if they were the off spring of some other woman; for the will. made it clear that the land would pass to them on her marrying agam. The shock wore off; indeed the time was not long coming when the few neighbours she knew-the Larrymores, for instancewould make many a half-hidden joke about how she was spanceled. Freely they laid ambushes for her: "Come in here, Maggie," Mrs Larrymore would say, I have as fine a bit of homespun as ever 18

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THE SPANCELED ye seen," and instead of the bit of woollen would be a young and unsuspecting labouring-boy, who would blush and cover half his face with his hand. "Isn't he grand," they'd say, "and nothing to hinder him--or you." Simple traps, yet again and again she fell into them. What did it matter when she knew that the young man would learn the story of her life as soon as her back was turned? Thus her very safeguard became in a manner her temptation. Now, as to the spanceled man who was to meet this spanceled woman : John Keegan his name was. In a far-off parish he was known far and wide as the grabber's nephew. If he were a grabber's son, persecution would have been so hard and constant against him that he might have grown up a man of will, a powerful man; the tree, they say, is strengthened by the storms it outlives. As it was, he grew up in an atmosphere of distrust rather than enmity. Of course this distrust did often pass into enmity, often became total boycott; but on the falling of the political weather-glass he would quickly slip back again into acquaintanceship with such of the young men as were of a character to feel warm elation in forgiving their country's enemies over a few drinks. Thus he became sly, crafty in his knowledge of human nature : he got into the habit of examining every new face he had to speak with; finally he came to know his own power. He discovered distant puolichouses, where he found himself mistaken for relatives of the same name-men of spotless character. And soon, of course, he knew how exactly to set gossip on false scents ; and found a certain pleasure in watching the faces of his pot-house companions as they traced curious rela tionships between himself and his own father, between himself and himself Lower and lower he sank; yet from all this a good girl would have, at least could have, rescued him if the bit of grabbed land had not stood in the way. From bad to worse it went; derelict, it came at last to hang like a millstone around the grabber's neck; it drove him to drink. Then the nephew became a spalpeen, a roving labourer; but in all his wanderings he kept as a light in his heart the thought that he would yet be master of Gurteenruadh, would yet be in a position to ask in marriage someone who would not look at a spalpeen. But that day might yet be far off; mean time he was but a spalpeen, an unsettled man. Thus he, too, was in the way of temptation; he was spanceled to a bit of grabbed land in a boggy valley as the woman to a bit of rocky soil on a steep down hillside. All in two days their intimacy came about. Mike Larrymore had his grass in the inches by the river : his fear was that the water would rise and sweep away his cocks : in years that did not see:r;n 19

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THE IRISH REVIEW any wetter than this it had happened. At last came a day of sun shiny wind and, Sunday though it was, men and horses were sent into the fields to get in the grass. Carts of people returning from Mass upon the road, dipped in festoons midway along the hillside, would pull up, and a man or two would scramble down through the furze, take off their coats, and ask for a fork. The stranger, John Keegan, slid down through the furze-brake in the same uninvited manner and began to work. That night he slept with the other labouring-boys in the barn. Next day he was at work again, the widow by his side, both of them in a far part of the field gleaning with long rakes, and that night he sat in the farmer's kitchen and took a hand at the cards. Whatever else he could do, he was confident of his skill at cards. His merry, never-resting tongue showed as much. It rattled on and on, and whether he won or lost he had his joke. There was scarcely a card in the pack for which he had not some pet name : my little do-een "-that is my little two," "my little ace-een" were expressions they all began presently to use, as also his use of "old lady" for the queen of hearts. The widow was playing, too, in her silent way, uninterested, slow; she lost game after game. They had often to call out to her to play or to hand her the pack with the one word deal." She was watch ing the stranger. Other eyes were watching him also, but with far different thoughts. It is a great card-playing district; and they began to resent the stranger's winning almost every trick. His high spirits vexed them too. He would need to be reminded of his position. Not by the women, however; they took his side in the battle that had not yet declared itself. They saw no reason why a of cards should be so solemn and quiet: wasn't it for fun they were at them at all? Playing silently, the widow did not seem to care whether or no her brooding on the thought of the stranger's presence was noticed. She had much to think about. That day in the fields he had poured all the sorrows of his life into her ear, apparently for no purpose except to relieve his mind. And only the bare truths of his life he told her; in a vibrant voice, however, tender and rich. And she was on the point of doing as much herself; but her mouth dried up and she could not speak. Now she was sorry. Never before had she had any thought that such a confession could bring her comfort. Maybe, to-morrow she would do what she had failed to do to-day. As she watched him she was experiencing the solace of self-accusation; so that the sallies of his wit which made the others laugh out, some of the men against their will it seemed, were powerless over her; she scarce gathered their meaning. Presently she caught Jack Constantine looking a.t 20

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THE SPANCELEO her, making signs to her, nodding and winking, pomtmg to her cards. Her face was a blank. All she could gather from his signs was that he was suspicious of something in the play. His eyes were hard and fiery; and whenever the stranger player, Jack stretched out his arm and felt the card with his fingers as if the sense of sight of itself was not sufficient to make out its value. Suddenly he jumped up and leaned right across the table, looKing down at the stranger. "Stand up," he yelled-the voice of one who has been a long time smothering his rage. "What-what?" Stand up, will 'oo ?" "Why."' F ht"' ht or w a r-w a are you saymg Stand up when you're tolt." Others began to rise up also. "Sit down, Jack." "Take it aisy." "Don't spoil sport." "What's up with ye at all ?"-the voices broke in from right and left, some of them, however, not over-earnest in the peace-making. He's sitting on a card. I'm after seeing it. 'Tisn't fair; we're not fools,'' Jack Constantine spluttered out to them, though his eyes seemed incapable of swerving from the man he was watching. The stranger shuffled and tood up. As he did so, all the cards in his hand fell' to the ground. There was no card on his chair. That's it," Jack cried, lying right across the table and pointing to a card on the floor. 'Twas in me hand." 'Twas not in your hand." "'Twas." 'Twasn't." Maybe 'tis cheating I am?" 'Tis. I'm not." You are." You needn't believe me." "Who'd believe you-a grabber!" The stranger collapsed. "All right," he said, and rose and made for the door. You're not going?" said Mike Larrymore, rising also; he was afraid a mistake had been made : Jack Constantine was always a hot-headed man. I'm after being insulted." 'Tis only a bit of temper." I'm no grabber, nor the son of wan." 21

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THE IRISH REVIEW No, only the nephew," Jack's voice yelled out; he was in the midst of a whirl of inquiries. They saw how the light of the kitchen caught the stranger's back for a step or two; then he was gone. Mike Larrymore made for the door. You should be more careful, Jack," he said, following the stranger. Then Constantine gave in detail how he had come at the man's history. The widow listened. How strange it was that she should have heard it all before No circumstance was different. Again there came over her a wave of warm sorrow that she had not told the man her whole history: somehow it would have comforted her to know that he in his homeless wanderings could sometimes think of her. Around her she heard them talking of his story and his relations; and it seemed to her that they had no right to do so, that they did not know him at all. Mike Larrymore returned. He told them he couldn't get the stranger to stay: "He's gone wesht," he said. "Wan like him," a woman said, 'tis in his nature to be wandering Something like that he's after saying himself; though 'twas hard put I was to make out what he was saying, down in his throat the talking was." They made an effort to renew the game; but the women had gathered about the fire; and every now and then one of them would turn to the players with an inquiry: "Bill, didn't you know Mike Pat Casey, who was an uncle to Dr. Casey of Lisheenaglass ?" or something like that. All the time the widow's thought was full of a lonely man going west into the heart of the hills. "Willy, is the moon up?" she asked at last out of her stupor. Willy laughed. What ails you, Maggie?" he said, 'tis after coming round by this time." I'll be going," she said. The moon would take her safely across the stepping-stones. When she reached the other side of the river, had entered, as it were, her own lonely land, she stood still for a moment in utter confusion, the very landscape seemed unfamiliar. "Oh Oh Oh she moaned, and drew her black chaw I close about her and swayed to and fro. Then a sort of calmness sud denly fell on her, and almost without a thought in her head she went up the zig-zag path. Presently she came on her little patch of oats, and then above her she could see her little house : in the moonlight the long low wall seen through the slender birch and 22

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fHE SPANCELED rowan trunks might be a line of clothes. Suddenly she noticed that the lamp was not in its usual place; she knew as much by the dulness of the window. In these houses the lamps always shine out exactly at the same angle. She hastened, vague thoughts of her children having risen from their beds chilling her. But the silence reassured her. Before entering she paused, and her eyes were towards the west. Opening the door she saw the stranger half-rising from a stool to meet her. Sh he said, noting her astonishment, and pointed to the settle. There lay her youngest child wrapped in a heap of bed clothes. "'Twas crying," he whispered. She gave no heed to his words. She stared at him with frightened eyes : in her brain a lonely figure was still trudging along the roads. To her surprise this man before her seated himself with no confusion by the settle, arranging the disordered mass of clothes. She withdrew quickly through the open door. One glance he shot after her; then with a slow smile he bent again upon the infant. A rustle made him look about. She had returned, was crouching as far from him as possible, in her hand a crazy-looking gun held awkwardly. "Go on out," she murmured, with no strength in her voice. In a leap his arms were about her, the gun falling with a rattle on the earthen floor. He heard it, half-stooped to seize it; then something made him glance at the woman's face. Her eyes were shut, the mouth wide open and panting; he felt her whole body trembling from head to foot. As if in very pity he kissed her, babbling old fashioned love-words at her ear. So, as from a pit of suffering, they snatched at their uneasy delight, as the spanceled will until time be over; in no other way is it possible for them this is their philosophy to revenge them selves on fortune, to give scorn for scorn. 23

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THE STORY OF JAMES FITZSTEPHEN MAYOR OF GALWAY By BLIGH T ALBOT-CROSB! E I. "Take, Senor, my Sebastian home To Galway : of an age He and your Maurice are : the spngs Be hand in glove, I'll guage. 2. It likes me well my son in youth Should Eire see, and learn Of so renowned a land, what most Us merchants may concern. 3. "Albeit I wot th' illustrious name Thou, Senor, bear'st, derives From victors o'er the vanquished GaelDios the sword-graff thrives!" 4, "My lord," FitzStephen said, "your son Is from this day as mine ; Distinction twixt them make I none, 'Till I your charge resign." 5. God send the spark then, for his health, 'Haviour indifferent good!-Grey too the Senoritas eyes? Young blood, ah, ha, young blood 6. His days in the house of Galway's mayor, As a son Sebastian spent, And down the bustling thoroughfareMen turned to mark the handsome With the mayor's son he went. 24

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THE STORY OF JAMES FITZ-STEPHEN 7. Was magic in the high gabled With its diverse mingling folks, The uncouth fore-tussocks and root-brown, The saffron and scarlet cloaks : 8. With its shipments of linen and yarn and grain And deep-girthed salmon in brine, Of velvet and arms and cordawain And tonneaus of Spanish wine. 9. Was magic in the grey, brooding heaven, I' the milk-warm, silk-soft air, I' the pastures of perennial green, I' the moist bow' s pervading sheen, I' the traffic of the surf at even, When sea and sky are bare. IO. But more than magic was there in Soft eyes of blameless blue, The dower of rippling hair, the skin Radiant with dawn-tinct dew, I I. The step o' the slim-pasterned fawn, Th' accent o' the turtle dove, The fragrance of Ler's thymy lawn, The living dream of love. 12. And of all maidens, Eileen most, Eileen o' the rippling rain Of flaxen ringlets-Galway's boast; The young, shy daughter of his host, Made his heart ache with pain. 13. Immersed as he was in civic cares And many a gnarled case, 'Twas so, his children, 'mid the mayor's Concerns, found scarce a place. 25

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THE IRISH REVIEW 14. Or haply, 'neath nice-balanced lids He mused : may well avail, When th' hour is ripe, my gallant's sighs To puff a goodly sail." 1$. Their three fret palfries, side by side They'd rein, for merry talks, While to the windy flats they'd ride To search the swimming blue, glad-eyed, After their up-spiring hawks. 16. And oft their three young heads drew close, When the eves on the court-flags dripped, And they read of Saracens and Moors, And sang the songs of troubadours, To the lute-all cherry-lipped. 17. The scarred doth feel with those that fight, In port hath the sailor ruth, And he whom fever hath consumed Visits the wretch to anguish doomed ; But age ignoreth youth. 18.! To the staid mayor seemed all things staid : In his sombre carved room, What magic could he dream to lurk? What wizardry conceive to work His and his house's doom? 19. Tingling each nerve at a sister's scream, Bursts Maurice in, as, lo, She breaks from one whose white teeth gleam, Whose eyes, like a wild-beast's, glow. 20. He smites Sebastian on the cheek, Forth the lithe rapiers flash; All foot, all wrist, all eye, the pair; Death's in the nerved blades' clash! 26

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THE STORY OF JAMES FITZ-STEPHEN 21. A sun-beam crept, a wandering breath Stirred the figured hangings : cooed The doves without, and the rush-strewn floor Of the pleasant room, soaked blood. 22. Now enters, much displeased, Fitz-Stephen, In furred gown and gold chain, And finds his son with rapier bare, His daughter moaning 'neath her hair, And his friend's charge lying slain. 23. He saw, heard, spake; but seemed to him Another saw, heard, spake. The children, bidden, go : the grooms The listless dead forth-take; He hears admires their master's calm, As one not yet broad awake. 24. Alone through the dim, hushed hours of night, Fitz-Stephen his chamber paced, Till the sconces flared and went noiseless out, Till grey dawn the lattice traced 25. Fool, fool by unseen, subtle Fate, Like any gull, beguiled And musing on his prosperous state, But yesterday, he smiled. 26. Never secure Youth's hot blood tamed Youth's folly schooled, undone The toils and cares of fifty years By a rash-handed son! 27. Youth like to fire, a servant good, Kept out in strictest bound, Singes grey beards, and palaces Leaves smoking on the ground. 27

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THE IRISH REVIEW 28. By my own son, in my own houseW ell served-to redeemless woe What is't, this old Eve's run a wench Empowers the world t' o'er-throw?" 29. Some fellow-sufferer's trace he sought In his stark cell of stone, But found his soul to comfort, nought, And looked on Fate alone. 30. Nay, none is stern beside the Stern, Severe but the Severe : Contemning weakness, I discern The thing contemned here. 31. Myself to consummate the doom I, blind, wrought God his fun Makes he of simple men ?-in my Own house by my own son 32. Young Maurice, by a scared garsoon, Is, from sleep's kindly drench, Roused : Fly, achree, your father bids Attend his blood-stained bench." 33. No sin upon my soul have I : I slept and did not dream. Wherefore, thou white face, should I fly Justice, and guilty seem ?" 34. Conducted 'fore the judgment seat, Maurice obeisance made Before his father, as was meet, And faced him unafraid. 28

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THE STORY OF JAMES FITZ-STEPHEN 35. What is your name?" his father asked. Maurice Fitz-Stephen," Proud-lipped, the answer made, "Whose son Are you? Of what degree?" 36. "Of James Fitz-Stephen, Galway's mayorWhom God preserve-" he said, I am the only son and heir : A squire I am, unwed." 37. Openly he confessed the fact: He had the dead man slain: But from extenuating th' act He did with heed refrain. 38. But when a felon's death, next day, He heard for him decreed, His ruddy cheeks went sudden grey, His hands his loosened frame did stay, Yet did he not mercy plead. 39. And all that day and all next night The town, like an ant-hill stirred, Swarmed with dismayed, resentful folk, And all who met, together spoke, And none who spoke was heard. 40 What man is this?" What laws are these?" So handsome generous brave "Like a king's son from plume to rowels!" "No brutish race!"-" His mother's face!" "Th' earth-dog of Bulben hath more bowels!" Save him, good people, save 4r. The Spanish merchants sought the mayor, That doom to deprecate : 29

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THE IRISH REVIEW Their kinsman, doubtless, was to blame, Outfenced at least, in duel fair, How should his death breed grudge or hate? The winner's loss were shame. 42. The English merchants likewise came, To commend such public zeal : But, nayth'less, inexpedient deemed A rigour that abhorrent seemed To th' Irish kerns who touch our weal Nigher than dons of Spain." 43. But of the city's wretches, none Would do that work abhorred : The leper from the 'spital back-drew, For fifty gold marks would no Jew Touch that accursed cord. .. .. 44. Hast seen a yellow daffodil, Sleek with the virgin sap Until the March wind o'er the hill Its lusty stalk did snap? So Eileen hid her tear-soiled face In her old nurse's lap. 45. Arid many soft-vowelled words the dame Did o'er her vouirneen croon, And called her many a love-old name; And told her all would soon Be well, and hid the whispered horror That made her old heart swoon. 46. But, at the night's turn, Eileen stole, Urged by a dream's distress, Bare-foot through moon-blanched corridors, Haunting with loveliness. 30

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THE STORY OF JAMES FITZ-STEPHEN 47. Till at her father's beam-cleft door She paused : for sure some fiend, From him to wring a cry so sore, She with her father weened. 48. Then by her greater fear impelled, She entered, and with close-clasped Hands, kneeling-marble white-she sought, Large eyed, his face, and gasped : 49. They were both dead, cold, cold and dead, Their eyes were staring wide1 t isn't, isn't true ?"and like A frightened child, he lied. 50. Maurice is hale-how else ? how else? On him rests any guilt? Fie, fie; 'tis thou thyself art cold! Back to thine eider -quilt!" 51. He raised her up, and with timid lips She kissed his raising hand, Then back she stole, and prayed and slept, The while that stern man vigil kept, Until the dark night wanned. 52. In the wide east the dawn awoke, As the world's first dawn fair, And all day's myriad works began In earth and sea and air, And the golden cup of life o'er-ran In rapture everywhere. 53. But dumb were Galway's streets and blind, Not a shoe on the cobbles smote : The daws squawked from the chimney-head, And curs, the garbage nosing, whined : It was as all the folk were dead. 31

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THE IRISH REVIEW 54 But in the field, outside the walls, Around that dark frame, stood, All clothed in black, all still as death, A mighty multitude. 55. 'Twas as if from some deep, nether well, Were drawn up, link by link, A vessel brimmed with mortal woe, And all had thronged to drink. 56. But Maurice, set aloft, was dressed In blue silk and chain of gold, And all his form and features blessed, Fresh from life's gracious mould, On him alone the spring sun shone, And did in radiance fold. 57. And fierce he to the priest replied, Who urged : repent ,' forgive," I have not sinned, my doom's unjust, I only die because I must; I want to live, to live.'' 58. And to the hangman, masked m crape Above a silver beard, He gave, from off his neck the chain Brought by his father home from Spain, And said, with heart wrath-seared: 59. "Thou kill'st me not; thou with thy cord Art kinder far than he Who gave this chain; when thou shalt die May'st die in charity." 60. But when the cord twines his live neck, His cheek feels trembling lips, And 'neath the hang-man's mask a tear Upon his forehead drips. 32

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THE STORY OF JAMES FITZ-STEPHEN 6I. "Father!" he says-" my son, my son!" Nor other word they spake. And what was left to do was done, And a great cry out-brake. 62. The old bell of Saint Nicholas Spake to itself aloft, In intermittent monotone, Through drowsy vapours soft. 63. And, till dead things seemed drawn with pain, High rising, sinking low, Wilder than sea fowl o'er salt-flats When the streaming night-clouds blow, Was heard the agonising caoine, The Gaelic women know 64. Yet as behind those coffins three, Which all his hopes did hold, He walked ; not one the mayor did curse : Alas, what could they wish him worse Than to be lone and old? 33

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THE WARS OF TURLOGH AN HISTORICAL DOCUMENT By EDMUND CURTIS l ll .-Continued HERE is the greater portion of MacCraith's own story of the battle. "With that they (De Clare's army) marched for ward until they were obliged to rest for the night at Ruan of the smooth plain, of the pools and banks of clean grass. As for the valiant-minded Conor O'Dea, there came his scouts with tidings that De Clare was at hand, and he sent messages truthfully to Lochlan Og O'Hehir and to Felim O'Conor the generous, the victorious, informing them of De Clare's march, and requesting them to come to the assembly at once with their oireachts (clans) against De Clare and he sent Tomas MacUirthille 0 Griofa, the chief of Cinel Cullachta, to De Clare, offering him submission and tribute. This was De Clare's answer: 'he would not make peace or any terms at all this time with him (O'Dea), nor with any others who were the sworn foes of himself and of his friends.' On getting this evil message, Conor O'Dea assembled a number of his noble kinsmen from every side, and told them of De Clare's answer, and they adopted a rapid counsel on the very spot, and this is the thing the y resolved on-viz. : to put most of the warriors in the rear in ambush against De Clare's cavalry, to hold the ford of battle so as to defend their creachs (herds), until the coming of Felim and Lochlan O 'Hehir to their assistance As for De Clare, at break of da y he was astonished at the stillness of the country round about him as though they were at peace with him, and he made three divisions of his noble host, thoroughly plundering the country on every side and slaying their women and children, and he ordered one division to march westward to Tully O'Dea of the pleasant slopes and t o the fortress with its delightful prospects, and another division to march by the banks of the Fergus through Cinel Cual lachta to Magh Domhnaigh of the smooth green grass. He himse1f marched straight forward, together with the nobles of his host, to Dysert, due westward, where O'Dea's dwelling-place was at th
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THE WARS OF TURLOGH before the pursuit ended, until they had proudly reached the ford. But upon this O'Dea turned swiftly, boldly, valiantly to hold the ford against his enemies, and there fell in a very short time on each side a host not easy to count. And when De Clare saw the ford being so hard-defended by that small company that opposed him, he himself went valiantly to the front of the fight encouraging his brave troops. When O'Dea's small company saw De Clare himself they gradually drew back, still fighting, to the place where the secret ambuscade was, near to them; and the foreigners continued following them hard and striking hard at them, so that a great number of them got over the ford westward in high spirits and in De Clare's company. As for the party in ambush, they started out suddenly, courageously; a company of them rushed unsupported to defend the ford against the weight of the great host; and the smallest part of them, together with the remnant of the pursuit, began to attack De Clare and his people, striking savagely at them and dealing hero-blows, till they slew De Clare and those who surrounded him together, before the mass of the strong host could arrive and save them. "However, it was necessary for the O'Deas, those who survived of them, to retreat into the same wood again, and they were sur rounded there by their enemies, who formed a strong battle hedge about them on all sides. At this moment that ever-fruitful, the ever-valiant tree, the protecting, high-couraged, battJe routing, sword wielding hero, Felim the princel y the active, the good at need, came charging down across the height of Sgamaill na Ratha, and on hearing how hard-pressed they were, the courage of the great hero and of his active troops grew, so that they pushed on without stop or stay or fear till they reached the very thick of the battle They made a smooth-cut cloven way and a path through the Iiost for the O'Deas to come to join them out of the wood. And taking their stand side by side, they resumed the battle, hacking at the furious enemy and defending themselves well, while De Clare's host k e pt arriving on the field of battle in thick invincible companies, leaving the herds and their heavy plunder behind them. Howe ver, those two armies, both Gael and Gall, continued attacking and assailing one another, some pressing on and boldly entering the conflict and mee ting foot to foot, and others again seized with fear and fly ing in panic from the midst of the battle till many were slain of the nobles and the goodly heroes on either side. Now it was pitiful the way that the Gaels were at that time, for owing to the loss of the greater part of their brave men, stretched on swathes of dead in front of them, they were obliged to make of themselves a strong unbreakable fortress so that their enemies might hardly break through them; and the least 35

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THE IRISH REVIEW engaged among them had four of their stern foes assailing him at once." "Now after that De Clare's great, valiant, swift-minded son and the princely tree, Felim, met one another and though their deadly strokes were equally swift, their duel was not long an equal one, for Felim wounded t4e active foreigner once and again and a third time, so that he fell a mangled corpse in the very place in spite of all his noble company "Now as to O'Brien and the men of goodly Munster, after driving off with goads the herds of M ahon O'Brien, they were encamped on the borders of Echtge of the green woodlands, and some of their trusted friends and sympathisers who were in De Clare's army sent speedy tidings to Murtagh about that bold enter prise of De Clare and the reason of his march, and it was a cause of mortal grief to Murtagh that his loyal and long tried friends should be in evil plight at the hands of those foreigners So that all the gentlemen and the clansmen gathered together in one place, both horsemen and foot, and they marched at the breaking of the day in full effulgence over the plains to pleasant Cnoc U r c hoill and on westward to the Fergus with the utmost speed. As they went over the smooth banks of the Fergus they saw the land all in one thick red-flaming cloud, and all in one shout and lively uproar on every side. And it was not long till they saw the active irresistible squadrons in their impetuous attacks, and great was the effect of the whole host to restrain them from their precipitate flight. As for the nobles and soldiers, they hastened to the relief of their endang ered friends, and some of them left behind their cloaks and unwieldy arms, and some abandoned their horses on account of the difficulty of the way. And when they came near to the place of battle without order, without array, without heed to the commands of the chief, Felim (O'Conor) spoke out : 'Truagh sin 1 it is we, this small remnant of the host of the Gael, who need further help and not our enemies-nevertheless, since it is impossible for us to escape from this extremity-for it would ill befit us to attempt to avoid it-let us avenge ourselves desperately upon our mortal enemies, so that there shall not be left a single full battalion after us with which they may face our friends.' And with that, the heroic lion rose again in vigour and force and daring, till they made a breach of heroes and a clear way for themselves through the pale-faced foreigners. And on recognising one another, they gave three great loud shouts, a shout of joy and of joyous welcome, a shout of victory and triumph and great gladness, and a shout of sighing and lamentation for their wounds and their losses. And the hosts on 36

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THE WARS OF TURLOGH either side rushed upon each other with the greatest fury and such was the obstinacy of the fight that neither commander-in-chief, nor captain, forsook the place of action till the most of them had fallen on the spot, and it cannot be counted or described what numbers perished in that hour, for of the Gall fell knights and war-barons, heroes and heirs." Such was the battle of Dysert O'Dea, one of the most eventful in all our history. Freed by two terrific blows from Norman aggression and Norman-fostered dissensions, Thomond righted her self like a ship in the trough of the waves The heroes of the war lived long to enjoy renown and peace. Murtagh reigned for twenty and five years; his brother, Dermot, the victor of Corcomrua, suc ceeded him, reigned till 1 364, and was entombed by the side of his father and brother in Ennis Abbey. "Not much is told of any trouble of his, for in his time the land prospered." Felim O'Conor, who, like Dermot, was just in the prime o f manhood when Corcomrua and Dysert O'Dea were fought, lived in his c hieftaincy of Corcomrua till I 36S; MacCraith whose chronicle was written in his time, says of him : His repute in Thomond has had no ebb, but he daily and widely increases it." The wars of Turlogh form a true epic, but more than that, they were of the utmost significance in the medieval history of Ireland. Rightly do our historians point to these early years of the fourteenth century as the date from which English power in Ireland began rapidly to ebb. If we look at Meath, Limerick, Eastern Ulster in the thirt ee n t h ce ntur y we s eem to see Eng lish shireland steadily filling up with S a x on y eomen and Norman lords, new Devonshires beyond the sea. The Gael was truly under the harrow. But a partial deliveran c e was at hand, and the ruin of the English colony was to proceed steadil y for two hundred years The invasion of Bruce freed Ulster for c enturies; elsewhere the ip.stitutions, lan guages, laws and authority of the foreign conquerors went to ruin. All though the fourt e enth and fifteenth centuries the poets, in war songs which have many of them come down to us, urged this or that hero of the Gael against the English, and bade him recover every foot of Irish ground. And indeed eve ry foot, save a small strip of the east, was gained; the castles, the colonies, the armies of the Englishry went down before an irresistible flood of Gaelic resurgence. To that universal revival, that recovery, both political and intel lectual of the native Gael, the O'Brien victories contributed a telling impulse. With the Fitzgeralds so strong in Munster and the Burkes in Connacht, it needed only the conquest of Thomond to make three provinces English and throw the cause of the old Irish back upon 37

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THE IRISH REVIEW Ulster. But the O'Brien clans stood firm, the old military capacity of the Dalcassians was revived, and Thomond remained, like Ulster, a rampart of native independence. In the turns and tides of fortune, no part of Ireland remained so Gaelic in blood, tradition, and landlordry. It survived even the ages of disaster, and the final dispossession of the senior O'Brien race in 1"692: Clann gaisce thighearna an Chl:iir A n-imtheacht san ba Ia le6in A's gan suit re n-a dteacht go brath Go reidh, a bhean na dtri mb6. In these dark ages for Irish scholarships, tradition, and song, the O'Davorens maintained a famous Law School in Clare, the MacCurtins kept alive the art of the seanachaidhe, and Brian Merri man in the "Midnight Court" struck a note in Gaelic poesy of high beauty and originality. In a sense, the old chiefs were still there to save and befriend the native people. The O'Brien was at lnchiquin, there were O'Deas on the site of the famous battle till King William's days, and MacN amaras and O'Gradys are still lords of the soil. It was Corcomrua and Dysert O'Dea which made it all possible. One cannot read the "Wars of Turlogh" without a growing admiration for its finer passages, and a sympathy which makes its defects explicable. The two great battles, as told by MacCraith, are real living epics. His heroes are real men; we learn from him much of how they thought, a great deal of how they went into battle, their arms, their tactics, their castle-life, the virtues which they aimed after, their views as regards patriotism, national unity, the Gael against the Gall. Here, for instance, is a description of how an Irish chief dressed himself for battle. Donnchad (Macconmara, chief of his clan, in a battle against the HyBloid at Kilgorey, 1310) "set to harness himself for battle. The first piece brought to him was a trusty well made acton, dense, close-ridged; easily did he assume it, and the extent to which it protected him was from his throat to his knees Over this he was invested in a loose mail shirt of hard rings, close of texture, and with gilded borders. A fighting belt, moderately thick, and fitted with a chased buckle; this he drew tight over his mail, and in it hung his sgian ready to hand; it was strong in the point, wide in the blade, thick-backed, and fixed in a decorated wooden haft. Over his shoulders he wore a fine-textured white tippet of proof. He set his strong-plated, conical helmet on his 38

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THE WARS OF TURLOGH head, took his broad sword, deeply fluted, having a golden cross hilt and a tracery-embellished scabbard, which he girded to his side. In his right hand he took the handy dart, to hurl among the enemy, in his left he grasped the thick-shafted, solid-riveted, great spear that he bore with which to charge the enemy." Such was the dread and splendid panoply of a Gaelic chief in the fourteenth century, weapons and armour of proof as good, and arms as strong to wield, and broad breast to bear them into the thick of battles as ever any mail-encased baron in the Europe of his time. It is obvious that these wars synchronise with a real military revival of the Irish Celts. They came to emulate the armour and horsemanship of the Norman invader; they dared, and with success, to face a completely equipped English army in the open field, and an O'Brien was the first to lead the way of victory. The Irish chiefs became feudal princes, and there fell upon them also the spell and splendour of European chivalry. At the first battle of Dysert O'Dea, in I 3 I 3, King Murtagh first addresses his troops, and then puts on a thick cassock of white fur with red-branched embroidery, a striped blue and gold coat of mail, a protecting collar on his neck, and a band embroidered with emblems and having a red edging round his head. Before the battle in which the King of Thomond fought foremost in the van, "the herald recited before the hosts the King's pedigrees and claims." It is a splendid picture, a new epic is told like that of the Gael and the Norseman, and the medieval heroes of the Dalcassians live again like the great ones of Emania and Almhuin, all moving in gay colours, in full panoply of war, set forth in the whole splendour of Celtic saga-telling. But it is not all romance. There is depth, humanity, and statesmanship in MacCraith's heroes. He is no panegyrist of war, but praises his great ones because after inevitable wars they seek the ways of peace. These O'Brien princes were in their way promoters of civilisation, no less builders of abbeys than of well-entrenched castles. We have here, then, one of the few, perhaps the only broad canvas in which are painted, in full colours, those medieval Irish princes, those battle-delighting Gaelic aris to crats, with the men whom they summoned to their standards from field and furrow. With their heroic virtues and their human faults, they have gained, though long since gone from this soil, an enduring hold upon the imagination, affection and regret of all generations after them. They saw only intermittently the far ideal of National Unity, and preferred each to be a king in his own patrimony. But there they were true champions and protectors of the old deep-rooted 39

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THE IRISH REVIEW Gaelic life, order, language and law; they founded numerous churches; they saw that the people were fed; they earned the bless ing which attended the reigns of good princes in abundant harvests and boughs heavy with fruit; their power protected the Brehon in his seat of justice, the physician among his leech-books, the historian who kept alive the pride of race and the memory of great deeds, and the humble earth-tiller who covered the valleys with corn. Under their authority, one feels the common man was at least as happy and prosperous as under any of the feudal despots of Europe. But they were first and foremost men of war. They loved their revenge better than their meat. Europe of their time was trampled over and over, every mile of it, with the feuds and forays of a numberless aristocracy; in no country was a feudal caste more ready for blows, more contemptuous of peace and the cow-death in the straw," more battle-ready and battle-delighting than these Irish princes. They trained a nation of fighters, rather than a nation of docile earth-tilling serfs or town-hucksters, a nation still pre-emin ently a fighting one. Does not Spenser tell us : I have heard great warriors say that in all the services which they had seen abroad in foreign countries, they never saw a more comely man than the Irish man, nor that cometh on more bravely in his charge Are they not also spoken of by an enemy as great scorners of death?" When Humbert's game was up, and the rebels of lorrus were waiting in Killala the attack of a victorious, a trained and a pitiless army, does not that eye-witness, Bishop Stock, describe the ill-led and half-armed peasants "running upon death, with as little appearance of reflection or concern as if they were hastening to a show?" The end, too, of that Gaelic chieftaincy, whose thrones a wide rampart of hereditary swordsmen guarded, was worthy of that impulse of victory whose first wave was Bruce s triumphs and the battle-fields of Thomond. They built up a power which took the Tudor despots almost a century to break down, their wars of libera tion soared up at last into a last and splendid conflagration, the nine years' stand of Ulster, in which they worthily perished. Did they, who were destined never to take the field again as champions of a Celtic polity, grudge their fate in bitter resentment? One feels they were too manly a race and too versed in the fatalist reasoning of soldiers. A Gaelic poet of the sixteenth century sings thus of the destiny of his people : Sword-land is Banha's land: Challenged be every one who says That there is any claim to the land of Fail, Save by force of conflict. 40

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THE WARS OF TURLOGH By force was taken Magh Fail of wide-branched woods, From the most civil race that ever ruled, the paternal race of Nemhidh: By force also was taken from the Firbolg (it is their fate And expulsion is the best decay) the wondrous hills of Erin. Expulsion, not decay, was the fate of our meaieval princes, and if history may be believed, they accepted the "'erdict of the sword like men. THE END

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IRISH HISTORY IN ENGLISH MAGAZINES By MIRIAM ALEXANDER !IRELAND is in one respect unhappily unique. She alone, of all the countries in the world, has had the misfortune to bring forth sons who, for their own ends, do not scruple to traduce her. It is impossible to imagine an Englishman, a Frenchman or a German deliberately setting himself down to defame his own land, to misrepresent his own countrymen-to distort the bygone annals of his nation. It is incredible to conceive sane and rational human beings holding the theory that history may be undone by a strenuous denial of its unpalatable truths, or that any man makes a better citizen for believing himself the descendant of a degraded race. Such, how ev er, are the tenets of a certain section of the Irish community, and when this creed is thrust upon the English public and enforced by a total perversion of facts, those of the Irish nation who are not dead to all sense of national honour, have every right to object. In Blackwood's Magazine for January, 1913, there is an article entitled The Wrongs of Ulster," and signed "C. W. C.," in which Ireland is defamed by what is said, by what is omitted, and by implication. The writer purports to describe the injustices inflicted in the past on the Ulster Scot, and does in point of fact relate certain incidents in the story of a race, eighty-five per cent. of which shook the dust of from its feet a hundred years ago; but the grievances of Ulster are merely the cloak for an attack on Ireland, hysterical in its venom. He describes the Irish as inherently cowaraly, treacherous, bloodthirtsy and disloyal to their own ideals. In a quotation from Burns, which, taken in conjunction with its context, can hardly be equalled as an instance of bad taste, he pronounces them irreligious. With unlimited wealth of authorities at his disposal, he quotesFroude and Macaulay, admittedly two of the most bitter, prejudiced and bigotted Hiberniophobes who ever set pen to paper, and a political speech of John Fitzgibbon-a man no more scrupulous than others of an unscrupulous age-engaged in a hard-fought battle against the party he had deserted. He makes no pretence at impartiality, which is, of course, his own affair, but he does make a pretence at relating the facts of our past history, which is-or ought to be-the affair of every right-42

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1RISH HISTORY IN ENGLISH MAGAZINES minded Irishman; and to do so he descends to a number of definite misstatements prefaced by that best known of all Froude's libels. As a nation the Irish have done nothing that posterity is not anxious to forget." That charge-which, by the way, Ireland has every reason to bless, since it moved Lecky to write his great refutation-is the key note of the whole article. If its writer had meant to give a history of the Ulster Presby terians, he would hardly have omitted all reference to Ulster's very prominent share in the rebellion of 1798 and the emigrations that followed it, because Ulster was the one part of Ireland on which the rebellion left a definite mark. This, however, he has done moreover, he ignores the rise of Belfast since 182 5, and the work of all the Scotchmen who, in the nineteenth century, colonised North-east Ulster. The wrongs of Ulster is merely the screen from behind which he shoots his arrows at the loathed country of Ireland. He says of her history : "This dark story carried on from century to century is rarely brightened by those touches of chivalry and heroism which, in other nations, cast a lustre on the blackest pages of their annals. She can look back to no character resembling William Wallace or the Chevalier Bayard or the Maid of Orleans. She can recall no hard-fought battles for freedom." To anyone who knows Irish history this charge is merely ludic rous-but it has not been written for those who know; it has been written for Englishmen ignorant of the truth, and for those Irishmen whose strongest resolution in life is to shut eyes and ears and mind to every fact that might shake the hereditary myth in which they nurtured-the myth of the inferior race From the very beginning of time Ireland's history has been characterised by heroism and chivalry. Her traditions of honour even back in the misty ages of the Tain were of the highest. There is extant a poem of Finn, the father of Ossian, which might, for the simple nobility of its precepts, be engraved over every door of every school in the British Isles to-day Quoted in full it would take up too much space-those interested can find it on page II6 of Dr. Sigerson's Bards of the Gael and Gall. To refute C .. W.C.'s charge as it ought to be refuted, in detail and with the necessary references, is obviously impossible in a magazine article; but a few points on which his misstatements are most pronounced may be summarised, and a few incidents, picked at haphazard, given to disprove his assertions. When C.W.C. and his disciples deny Ireland any share in the "chivalry and heroism which in other nations cast a lustre upon the 43

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THE IRISH REVIEW blackest pages of their annals," do they know nothing of the days when her Kings went forth to invade Europe-nothing of Dathi and Niall of the nine hostages-nothing of Carbery Riada who colonised the lower half of Scotland? Have they ever heard of Brian of the Tributes, who freed Ireland from the Dane and made it the kingdom which Alfred of England described in his itinerary : I found in Meath's fair principality, Virtue, Vigour, and Hospitality, Candour, joyfulness, bravery, purity, Ireland's bulwark and security"to quote but one of the Saxon King's many eulogistic verses. Is the name of Malachi, Brian's rival for the Ardrigh-ship, who when danger threatened his native land, voluntarily renounced his claim and submitted to Brian that the Ardrigh might have the benefit of his warriors unfamiliar to them, and do they find nothing worth remembering in his self-sacrifice, and in the loyalty and courage that went with it? Are they entirely ignorant of the deeds of Art MacMorrough? And of Cahal Crovedearg O'Conor, who ruled Connacht more wisely than Connacht has ever since been ruled, who forced the de Lacy's to acknowledge him as suzerain-who built bridges and made roads, and was responsible for the beautiful monastery of Cnocmoy? Do they know the story of how Godfrey O'Donnell, the chief of Tirconnell, when mortally wounded bade his clansmen carry him on his bier to the field of combat, and told them he could not die until they had won the fight? Is there no romance for them in the story of Cashel of the Kings -or in the bringing to Ireland of that piece of the True Cross which still remains to us, or in the building by Donnell O'Brien of the glorious Abbey to which it gave its name? Have they no reverence for Margaret O'Carroll, the fame of whose culture and piety has outlasted five weary centuries, who received twice a year "all the Bards of Albyn and Erin," who made bridges and roads, who built churches and endowed them with missals and mass books ? Is Shane O'Neill not worth remembrance-" Shane Dymas Wild," as Sir Walter Scott calls him-that headstrong turbulent chief, who astonished Queen Elizabeth, and who in character so strongly resembled Queen Elizabeth's own father? Did any English Baron of his day do more for his land than MacCarthy Mor, the )uilder of Kilcrea Abbey and of the Castles of Blarney and Dripsey 44

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IRISH HISTORY IN ENGLISH MAGAZINES and Carrigadroghid? MacCarthy's work speaks for him to this dayassuredly no mere savage planned Blarney-an astute warrior chose the site, and a man who loved the beautiful designed those graceful windows which, high above chance of assault, look away over the fair Shournagh Glen. If Ireland "can recall no hard-fought battles for freedom," what was Clontarf? What was Ballinaboy? What was Benburb? Ireland certainly never has "produced a character resembling the Maid of Orleans." Nor has any other country in the world. A Joan of Arc outside France is as inconceivable as a Napoleon oorn of English parents. What Ireland has produced-has never failed to produce-is true men, stout fighters and patriots at every crisis of her history-Cormac and Niall, Brian and Malachi, Art MacMorrough, Hugh Roe O'Donnell, Owen Roe O'Neill, Patrick Sarsfield, Grattan, Daniel O'Connell-more, she has twice in England's direst need given her a soldier whose name will last as long as England shall endure-Wellington and Lord Roberts. She has produced the truest prelates and the most patriotic and devoted chroniclers the world has ever seen, men like Keating and the Four Masters, in whorri the flame of a great love of a country never once burnt dim. C.W.C. has possible not heard the story of Bishop Doyle of Ross, whom Broghill's men captured, and led in chains before the Castle of Carrigadroghid, in order that he might command its surrender. '' They led him to the peopled wall ; Thy sons,' they said, are those within If at thy word their standards fall, Thy life and freedom thou shalt win.'' The poem goes on to relate how the Bishop demanded to be robed in his vestments before he addressed the garrison, and his words to them as he stood below the wall : He spake-' Right holy is your strife, Fight for your Country, King and Faith. I taught you to be true in life, I teach you to be true in death.'' Ere yet he fell, his hand on high He raised, and benediction gave; Then sank in death, content to die, Thy great heart, Erin, was his grave." If there is no inspiration in that story, there is no inspiration in all historv. 45 ..

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THE IRISH REVIEW The list might be prolonged indefinitel y Take as a single instance Patrick Sarsfield. No country in the world can boast a more gallant, loyal and h o nourable gentleman-few a better soldier. Nor are the minor c haracters in that war of 1690 unworthy of remembrance. Gallant old Ri c hard Grace, who, when Ginckle tried to bribe him to surrender Athlone sent bac'k the message-" A gentleman does not betray his trust." Sir Teague O'Regan, the defender of Char lemont-" G a llop i n g O 'Hogan "-the pilot of that midnight dash across the Shannon. Of the seven men of Moidart, five were Irishmen-and no men in the whole campaign showed a better spirit. C.W.C. may choose to ignore Thomas Lally, but even he can hardly deny his courage and his genius. To Ireland belongs all the credit of the prettiest story in history-the story of how Charles Wogan and his three comp a tri o ts r e s c u e d C l e mentina Sobieski for the1r King. The man who held the last gate of Cremona," le brave O Mahonie," as the French call him, was Irish, and so was every man of his gallant four hundred. Irish valour it was that raised the Siege of Oran ; and to an Irishman, Peter Lacy of Ballingarry, belongs the honour of having found the Russian army an ill-trained and mutinous rabble, and made it one of the best of Europe. T o go t h roug h th e list of the Irish-born Irishmen who won h o n o ur abro ad in the eighteenth century would demand a volume. Nothin g c ould sp e ak more eloquentl y for them than the few words i nsc rib e d b y th e wis h o f Louis XVIII. on the last c olours presented to t he Irish B ri ga de-" Se mper e t ubique fidelis." The next charge brought against us is one of cowardice and lack of patriotism-rather a dangerous subject, surely, for a writer who has elected to violently traduce his native land in what to most readers is an unsigned article. C.W. C., untroubled apparently by the proverb concerning the cap and the head, goes gaily on: "When it has come to the crucial test of action it has too often happened that the patriotic ecstacy which flowed so freely in torrents of rhetoric has congealed at the sound of the cannon.' It has been always thus in Irish history." What? At Clontarf, and at Benburb, and at Aughrim? Did patr iot i c e c sta cy congeal in the hearts of the men who g ave their lives to pull down the bridge at Athlone, The twain who breasted that raging tide-and the ten who shook bloody hands with death"; or in those who defied Prince Eugene's forces in the gateway of Cremona ; or at Fontenoy, when the Irish regiments of 46

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IRISH HISTORY IN ENGLISH MAGAZINES Clare, Dillon, Lally and Fitzjames swept up the hill, crying Remember Limerick and the Saxon Faith?" Did it in the case of the untrained peasants who, at Vinegar Hill, faced artillery fire for an hour-admittedly, the highest test to which troops could be subjected? and was patriotic ecstacy dead in the soul of Lord Edward Fitzgerald when he sacrificed everything most men cherish to a cause in which he could gain nothing tangible, and might-and did-lose even life itself? So much for charge two. Charge three is a time-honoured one. In the sixteenth century Ireland had practically relapsed into barbarism." Spencer's description of the Irish horsemen of his day "in his robe of Sheklaton, which is that kind of gilded leather with which they used to embroider their Irish jackets you may see the Irish horsemen most truly set forth in his long hose, his riding showes of costly cordwaine, his hocqueton and his haberion, and all the rest ." does not substantiate that soft indictment. On the contrary, it suggests that the strenuous efforts of England to throw the country into a state of savagery in order that she might be the more easily quelled had not been altogether successful. Moreover, one of the most interesting of our Irish writers belongs to that date-Don Phillip O'Sullivan Beare-who com manded a galleon for Philip of Spain, and who left to posterity several works which prove quite definitely that he, at least, was not only no barbarian, but a man of the highest culture. Traditions of Lynch's school have come down to us, and judging it solely by two of its scholars, its standard was a high one. Duald Mac Furbis's Book of Genealogies certainly does not suggest a savage-nor does Roderic O'Flaherty's I ar-Connacht, either in its description of Connacht or in its most admirable work man ship Indeed it is doubtful if even in these over-educated days many country gentlemen could write a history of their own province at once so lucid and so erudite. Lastly, but not least, there remains a quantity of poetry of the 16th century, notably one magnificent lament composed by Fearflatha O'Gnieve Bard to the O'Neill, in or about 1556, which Callanan translated, and of which there is only space to give one verse-the last: '' On Bondsmen of Egypt, no Moses appears To guide your dark steps through this desert of tearsDegraded and Inst ones! No Hector is nigh To lead you to freedom or teach you to die!'' 47

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( THE IRISH REVIEW Barbarians are not as a rule poets, nor are they generally acquainted with either the Bible or the history of ancient civilisation. C.W.C. next blames the Irish for resenting the plantations In what is almost the most remarkable of his very remarkable statements, he says : Two million acres were thus escheated, of which two-thirds, consisting of peat bogs and forest, were handed over to the native Irish." C.W.C. might with as much propriety say that Siberia was handed over to the unfortunates banished there. Sir Arthur Chichester, in the very passage quoted by C.W.C., evidently does not share that writer's very complacent view of the proceeding. The term he uses is displant." The fact is, that there was no form of brutality, ill-treatment and injustice to which the "mere Irishry" was not subjected. Cruellest of all were the methods of Mountjoy and Sir George Carew. In Miss Lawless's words: Mountjoy established military stations at different points and proceeded to demolish everything that lay between them. He made his soldiers destroy every living speck of green, burn every roof, and slaughter every beast. The ground was burnt to the very sod the people perished by tens of thousands." Is it any wonder that when the day of reckoning came, it was a black one? C.W.C. waxes eloquent over that day of reckoning-October 23rd, r64r even to the extent of quoting figures which will surpri5e the mere historian. No one wishes to dispute the appalling horror of the massacre, but the worst part of that horror lies in the fact that Christian states men should have inflicted such devilish suffering on fellow human beings that the memory of it, forty years after, sufficed to drive their descendants stark mad. It is perhaps the most hideous illustration the world has ever had of the truth of Browning's words: "There's not: a crime but takes its proper change out still in crime, if once rung on the .:ounter of this world." C.W.C., however, writes of this matter as if the Irish, without the slightest provocation, had done it wantonly for the mere pleasure of killing Protestants. He takes care not to mention that the act was not sanctioned by any one of the Irish leaders except Phelim O'Neill, and the whole tone of his observations would lead the uninitiated to assume that it was the only massacre in history. Th:it wholesale assassination was in the 16th and 17th centuries an act not disdained by Kings is a point he appears to entirely overlook. 48

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IRISH HISTORY IN ENGLISH MAGAZINES Jeanne d' Albert, the mother of Henri Quatre, invited three hundred Catholic noblemen to a banquet, and had them extermin ated afterwards like so many rats. Every child knows of the EYc of St. Bartholomew, and the hideous wiping out, with every refinement of treachery and inhumanity, of a whole Scotch sept has not been considered any blemish on the pious memory of William of Orange. It is only when the method is resorted to by the "mere Irishry," when the driven peasant sons of murdered men and outraged women are goaded at last into a frenzied attempt to rid themselves of their persecutors, that posterity holds up its hands in horror. Upon the question of the butchery of the whole population of Island Magee by Monroe's Scotchmen, C.W.C. maintains a discreet silence. From 1641 he next returns to Cromwell. He says: "Cromwell marched upon Drogheda, the stronghold of the Catholic rebels; on their refusal to surrender, the fortress was stormed, and every man found in arms was put to the sword." So much for C.W.C. Here are the facts of the case : Drogheda was held by Sir Arthur Ashton, and its garrison of 3,000 consisted largely, if not exclusively, of Englishmen; they were summoned to surrenderdeclined, and saw their town carried by assault" after a desperate fight. The rest may be left to Cromwell's own words in his despatch to the Parliament : "We refused them quarter. I believe we put to the sword the whole number of defendants. I do not think thirty escaped-those that did are in safe custody for the Barbadoes." Cromwell omits to mention that old men, women and children were also put to the sword without mercy, but the gist of the matter for our present purpose lies in C.W.C.'s interpretation ol facts. The Drogheda garrison were not "Catholic rebels"; they were not in any way connected with the Ulster uprising. More than half of them were not even Irish. Nor is C.W.C. content with this general perversion of fads. He definitely states of the Cromwellian confiscation, that "judging by its fruits, no wiser or more beneficial scheme could have been devised." Now the noticeable thing about that whole affair was, that it bore no fruit at all. A few-a very few-of the planted families remained; the major portion "looted and left." C.W.C. dilates upon the "resolution" of the settlers, and almost in the same breath tells us that at the resforatiop 49

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THE IRISH REVIEW half the lands acquired by Cromwell's soldiers were handed back to the Catholic lords of the Pale. The natural question which arises at once in the reader's mind is, why did these very blood-thirsty Cromwellians submit and the obvious answer is-because they had gone. They were not of the type to make colonists. They were soldiers of fortune, men who lived by their wits and their swords, and who had no knowledge of or use for husbandry. Cromwell knew very well that they would never stay. His alleged scheme of colonisation was as much a pious fraud, and has as little real intention at the heart of it as the Treaty of Limerick. Like William III. forty years later, he found con fiscated property the cheapest coin in which to pay his soldiers. C.W.C. will, no Cloubt, be able to answer a question about the Protector, namely-Why did he cause the printing press at Drogheda to oe broken? Did the desire to conceal some truth inimical to his interest prompt that act of vandalism? It is less easy to prove that you have extirpated a race of savages if you leave the traces of 3.n undoubted culture behind. C.W.C. writes with enthusiasm of the "masterful policy" of the Lord Protector, which he says has "naturally not found much favour among Irish Nationalists "-a comment, by the way, not strictly relevant, however astute. Ireland, during those golden years he so touchingly refers to, was under the jurisdiction of the Lord Deputy, the Commander in Chief, and Four Commissioners. One of the first acts of these Commissioners was to burn an old lady-the mother of a Colonel Fitzpatrick-at the stake. They also authorised the taking of Irish women, children, young girls ana youths for the purpose of being sold as slaves to the West Indies, the Virginian tobacco planters, and the Algerian pirates. Sir William Petty, the maker of the Down Survey, mentions that six thousand were sent to the West Indies; contemporary accounts state the total number sold at about one hundred thousand. With so profitable and easy an industry, it is little wonder that certain Cromwellians were able quickly to amass money, and that "the curse of Cromwell," should still linger among a peasantry, whose greatest misfortune is their inability to forget. C.W.C.'s next most noticeable departure from accepted facts is his ludicrous account of the Battle of the Boyne. He begins by a description of William's Ulster soldiers, quoted from Maca:ulay: Wolseley, with his warriors, who had raised the unanimous shout of Advance on the day of N ewtownbutler. As N ewtownbutler was a case of ambush, the Irish having been crept upon from the 50

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IRISH HISTORY IN ENGLISH MAGAZINES rere, this paragraph is a good illustration at once of that sense of the picturesque and that bland indifference to facts which character ised Macaulay. C.W.C. says: "The French cavalry made a stout resistance; the Irish at the first attack fled in a disgraceful panic. Greene says: The Irish Foot broke in a shameful panic, but the horse made so gallant a stand that Schomberg fell in repulsing its charge, and for a time the English centre was held in check." Now, though to question Greene is, of course, ranK blasphemy, as a matter of fact this charge has not only never been proved against the Irish infantry, but is given the lie direct by the testimony of both Berwick and Lazun-both of whom, it may be mentioned, hated the Irish almost as much as C.W.C. does. The story seems to have started with Macaulay, and Macaulay based it on the letters of two nameless French officers, who, for all posterity knows to the contrary, may have merely saddled the Irish with their own failing. No one, however, except C.W.C., has ever even suggested that any stigma of cowardice attaches to the Irish cavalry. Story, quoted in Todhunter's Life of Patrick Sarsfield," relates of a troop of Irish horse that "they charged the Danes" (i.e., the Danish Horse who had just crossed the river) so home, that they came faster back again than they went." Story also adds: "The action began at a quarter past ten, and was so hot till past eleven that a great many old soldiers said they never saw brisker work." A con temporary work, also quoted by Dr. Todhunter, tells how the citizens of Dublin, having first had news of a general rout, were surprised by the arrival of the whole body of the Irish Horse coming in, in very good order, with kettledrums, hauteboys, and trumpets." C.W.C. takes care not to mention that William's forces out numbered J ames's by about two to one, and that they were, moreover, trained veterans, whereas the Irish were law levies, many of whom never heard a shot fired before. He makes a grudging admission that the Irish troops "retrieved their character" before the end of the war, but he does not allude at all to the Siege of Athlone, where the most desperate valour was shown. Sarsfield's feat at Ballyneety he passes over in silence. Nor does he consider it worth while to state that when, after the signing of the Treaty of Limerick, the Irish troops found themselves con fronted with the choice of a free pardon or poverty and perpetual exile-the fate most dreaded of all fates by the average Irish peasant -ninety per cent of them scorned to desert their king and slight their faith. (To b e continued) 51

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REVIEWS THOMAS CAMPION AND THE ART OF ENGLISH POETRY. By Thomas MacDonagh, M.A. Dublin: Hodges, Figgis and Co., Ltd. 3s. tid. net. Mr. MacDonagh has done useful work in distinguishing two species of English verse-song-verse and speech-verse. In this respect his treatment of the subject is sounder than that of Professor Saintsbury, Mr T. S. Omond, Mr. Thomson, or M. Paul Verrier. But his claim to "have discovered a truth hitherto unnoticed or unproclaimed '' gives pause to the metricist familiar with the theories of Professor Saran. Professor Saran and his disciples, among whom the present writer counts himself, divide verse-English, German and French at least-into accentual and alternating," and actually uses the terms '' Singvers and '' Sprechvers,'' although not as absolutely equivalent to accentual" and alternating.'' But what Mr. MacDonagh calls speech verse, he would undoubtedly call alternating verse, and what Mr. MacDonagh calls song-verse, he would with equal certainty call accentual verse. It is true that alternating verse is further removed from conversational speech than accentual verse; it is more akin to oratory than to every-day speech Accentual verse, paradoxical as it may seem, is a lower art-form and uses, to a far greater extent, merely those features of speech which are found in ordinary delivery. Alternating verse exploits all the potentiatities of speech. Mr. Bridges even distinguishes stress and syllabic verse. The principle of division is the same, when an is said and done, as Professor Saran's or Mr. MacDonagh's. I do not think that either Professor Saran or Mr. Bridges, much as they differ in detail from each other and from Mr. MacDonagh, would hesitate to agree with him as to the kinds of verse which belong to one category (speech verse, alternating verse or syllabic verse) and to the other (song-verse, accentual verse, stress-verse) In fact, actual wording of Mr. MacDonagh's explana tion of what he means by speech-verse (p. 49) leaves little or nothing to be desired, from the point of view of a follower of Professor Saran. "The com ponents of speech-verse at first sight would seem to be the same as those of song-verse, but on examination one finds that the lines are not made up of isochronous periods. Rhythm, accent, quantity and pause stand. A new com ponent-weight, to give it Campion's name-is of all importance. There is, of course, a time norm. The lines are equal in time, but vary internally, ebbing and flowing according to the pressure of weightr in a way unknown in songverse." I welcome Mr. MacDonagh as at least a potential ally It is a comfort to find a good heretic to bear one company in Ireland. But, when it comes to a definition of weight, I fear we shall part company. It is to be regretted that Mr. MacDonagh has postponed his fuller treatment of speech-verse. He has left his tale half-told and allowed us to remain in suspense. Will he or will

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REVIEWS he not prove to accept the alternating system of Saran, based also on "weight" or "relief" (the latter being Professor Wulff's term)? Unfortunately his references to speech-verse in this treatise are of the vaguest, as, for example (p. 52): 11 The speech quality in speech-verse lies in the weight and procession of the words. Milton's and all good speechverse is built up in sentences, not in lines or in fractions of lines. The metrical unit is the line-that is, the lines are equally long in time." Does Mr. MacDonagh recognise the metrical scheme into which the phonetic material is poured, the five metrical beats, say, of the blank verse, with which the normal three or four phonetic beats of the speechmaterial are interwoven inextricably in an ever-changing pattern? Or is he going to ghe us a new version of Mr. Liddell or some variation of what Dr. Winslow Hal! calls Phrasal Rhythm and Sectional Rhythm? I feel confident that, wh3t nc-r view Mr. MacDonagfi holds with regard to speech-verse, we shall find in his promised volume the same careful deliberation and width of view which distinguish the present thesis. In the treatment of song-verse Mr. MacDonagh leaves nothing to be desired. His book may (and must) be read with profit after those of Mr. T. S. Omond and Professor Alden. What more can be said? I regret that Mr. MacDonagh should have referred to French verse. French verse does not tend to 1 feet of one syllable '' (p. 8o ). This is a very old orthodoxy that lias now become hopefessly heretical. Nobody accepts it, not even M. Landry, who comes nearest to it. Mr. MacDonagb has a choice of several systems. The three mainly in vogue are: (1} That of Becq de F0quieres, brought up to date by Professor Grammont, and especially by M. Paul Verrier; (2) That of Professor Saran-a modification of the views of Tobler and Professor Wulff-which, with reservations, is the system taught at Trinity College; and (3) That of M. Landry. According to the first system all French verse is based on isochronous periods." According to the second, French verse, like English or German, may be divided into alternating and accentual, the former having dgorous alternation of unisyllabic Hebung and Senkung, the Hebung being marked by weight, which, in French verse, since the principal constituent of weight, in French, is length, may be identified with long quantity.* M. Landry divides French verse into feet which correspond almost exactly with the isochronous periods of Becq de Fouquieres and M. Paul Verrier, but he does not find these feet normally equal in length. The short syllables of each foot are normally equal in length among one another, and, accelerando or ritardando apart, with those of the other feet of the line or series of lines of verse under consideration. But the long syllables, on e to each foot, are from one to three times the length of the short syllables. Equal feet may appear, *The quantity of a French syllable is not, however, fixed. It depend s on and v a ri e s with the place of the syllable in the phonetic group and the exact logos and ethos of th e portion of speech-material in question 53'

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THE IRISH REVIEW but are not normal. T.here is a tendency to equalise the two parts of the footi.e., the unisyllabic Hebung and the Senkung of from one to seven sylla:blest But apparently Mr. MacDonagh prefers the authority of the Quarterly Review "! In connection with the origin of rime, it may be worth while noting that the earliest French verse (apart from the Eulalia sequence)-i.e., the rimed ectosyll a bic, undoubtedly descends, through the rimed octosyllabic accentual verse of the late L a tin hymns from the quantitive and unrimed iambic dimeter in its strict form (with two undetermined Senkungen. ) Schlicher has shewn this conclusively. The omission from the bibliography of foreign works on English verse is noticeable and, I think, regrettable. There is no index. T. B. RUDMOSE-BROWN IRELAND'S HOPE. Ireland's Hope: A Call to Service." Published by Irish Inter-Collegiate Christian Union Many people in this country must have been wondering of late what the r ank and file of young Irish Protestants are thinking about : they are conspicu ously absent from the political platforms that pretend to speak for them; and they have been very silent, rather too silent, one has been sometimes tempted to think. This little book throws a flood of light upon the situation. Quietly, and hopefully they are setting themselves to th e task of serving their countrj, in a high spirit of religion and of patriotism tha t comes like a breeze of cool wind from a place where we are told (by its spokesmen in politics) that there is nothing but a red blast of destruction for every ideal of Ireland. From cover to green cover there is not a page of its Irish-made paper on which this booklet does not sound the note which Ireland has long been hoping to hear from Irish Protestants. There have been solos for years past : we have before us the first small piece of orchestral music-and a fine sample it is. It is hardly fair to quote from a book which ought to be read as a whole, but let me extract the following, if only as an inducement to the present reader to buy the book for himself : I tA fatal objection to M. Landry's syste m i s that hi s "metre vari a ble find s in the v a r .i u s oratoric a l d evia tions from the normal ac ce ntu a tion of the phonetic group only so many hindranc es. The poet uses spe e ch as he finds it, d e veloping and using for hi s purpose alt its hidd e n pot e ntialiti e s a nd r es ources. M. P a ul Verrier and Becq d e Fouquieres simply ignore these. The only syst e m which, as far a s I am awa re, t a ke s alt potentialitie s into account is Profe s sor Saran's Anoth e r obj e ction to both M. Landry's and M. Verrier's s ystem s is that they confound phon e tic w ith m e trical division 54

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REVIEWS '' The idea of Ireland as a nation, united in a Divine Brother-hood, the laws of whose life are faith, hope and love, which her sons count it their duty to carry beyond her borders to the uttermost parts of the earth, is one that will lift the thought of nationality to a sphere above all party strife. '' (Preface.) '' The salvation of Ireland, no matter at what price, and our share in the work, are the objects of our quest, seeking to realise her mission in the Kingdom of God on earth." (P. 3.) While the authors make no pretence of being anything but thorough-going Protestants, there is not a word in the book which could offend the most touchy of their fellow-countrymen. Hear this : '' Surely Irishmen may retain and respect their different religious convictions, and yet zealously co-operate for the common good. Bigotry blights religion. Intolerance misrepresents and belies religion. True religion helps men to be just to those who differ from them. In no place undet the sun is there more need for cultivating the habit of being just to those who differ from us than in Ireland. All things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do ye also unto them.' To hasten the day when all Irishmen shall gladly endeavour to make this the lavi of tlieir conduct in social and public life, is worth hoping and praying and working for." (P, 150). '' As Irishmen, let us work for the well-being of our country : let us work for an ideal which shall place her first among the nations of the earth.'' (P. 166. J Is this not evident that Ireland's Hope is a new, regenerate, United Ireland, based on love of country and brotherhood, and a sincere desire to place her in the forefront of nations? The principle of Nationality is a high and noble one-it is from Heaven itself. How may we be animated by this spirit of brotherhood, so that love of country may unite Irish men of all shades of opinion to work for the good of their country?" (P. 173). And again, in the last essay (its author, Professor D. S. Cairns, I take to be a Gael of Alban): "No people ever came through such a furnace of suffering as that through which Ireland has come, but God had something great for it to be and do. Has not its story for centuries been that of a crucified Nation? But out of the Cross nobly borne, surely there always comes redemp tion, the redemption of the world." !,A.n echo here, surely, from Michael Barry and Patrick Sheehan I have extracted quotations of a special type (and there is much more of the same type), but the bulk of the book is concerned with practical patriotism and practical Christianity : Individual Responsibility, Modern Industrial Condi tions, Emigration, Intemperance, the Housing of the Poor, Pauperism, Education and Citizenship, and Modern Irish Movements-including the Gaelic League, Sinn Fein, Irish Literature, the Abbey Theatre, the I.A.O.S., the" Department," the Industrial Development Associations, the United Irishwomen, the Women's 55

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THE IRISH REVIEW National Health Association. The essay last-named (p. 151) closes with a quotation from The Crock of Gold : They are about us on every side. They are walking now, but they have forgotten their names and the meaning of their names and their lineage, for I am an old man, and my work is done." I will make a poem some day," said the boy, and every man will shout when he hears it." Goq be with you, my son," said the Philosopher, and he embraced the boy and went forward on his journey." Ireland may indeed go forward on her journey in good heart when a book like this comes out of Belfast in the month of January, 1913. w.

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, I ,, READ WHAT IS SAID' OF THE BY JOURNALISTIC CRITICS. From The World's Work. I The Famous Irish Agri cultural Organisation Society possesses an official organ which is one of the best written agricultural papers in the world. Ireland is pre eminently a country of news papers, and Irishmen have a vocation for journalism, but the '' Irish Homestead" and its inimitable editor stand m a place by themselves. From Public Opinion. As a one doesn't read the agricultural papers to dis cover magination and vision and good writing. But the reader of the Irish Home stead," the organ of Irish Agricultural and Industrial Development, knows that somewhere each weok in that paper he will find an article which is outstanding hecause of the spirit which it breathes. ,. From Sir Leonard Lyell's address to the Scottish Agricultural Organisation Society. In Ireland the progress of co-operation is stimulated by an excellent paper-the Irish Homestead.' I have taken it in for some time put, and I think if we had an organ of that kind taken up, it would give inspiration and encouragement. I feel it is really a sort of tonic. Whether Scottish agriculturists would like such plain words spokeh to them as are sometimes addressed to the Irish Farmers, I do not know, but it would do them good. THE IRISH HOMESTEAD, The Organ of the Irish Moveme/;t. :t' Price Om Penny. Publishing Offices -MIDDLE ABBEY STREET, DUBLIN.

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It is always difficult, even at the best circulating libraries, to get a recently published work promptly ----on publication. ----The Times Book Club's New Special Service ensures the early delivery of any new book in circulation in the Library Country subscribers are not required to return their books until a fresh supply arrives, and are thus never without books. The Times Book Club i s thus offering A UNIQUE LIBRARY SERVICE On receipt of a postcard mention ing the "Irish Review" full particulars, rates of subscript i on etc w ill a t once ------be SCnL--------THE TIMES BOOK CLUB LIBRARY, CIRCULATING 376 to 584 OXFORD STRET, LONDON, W ..


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