(JANUARY 1914)
It has penetrated to this quiet place that some of the young men of
Ireland have banded themselves together under the noble name of Irish
Volunteers with intent to arm in their country’s service. I am inclined
to doubt the rumour. It has an air of inherent improbability. I could
have believed such a report of any generation of young Irishmen of which
I have read; but of the generation that I have known I hesitate to
believe it. It is not like what they would do. Previous generations of
young Irishmen (if what our fathers have told us be true) were foolish
and hot-headed, not to say wicked and irreligious. Of course, they had
not been properly instructed. Intermediate Boards and National
Universities were yet in the womb of the British Government. The
expansive power of gunpowder and the immense momentum which can be
acquired by a bullet discharged from a gun were not generally known
until Natural Philosophy became a subject for Matriculation, and Kennedy
published a one-and-sixpenny text-book on the subject: hence our
forefathers did not realise how dangerous it is to let off firearms--how
could they be expected to? This fact, not hitherto adverted to by
historians, goes far to explain the otherwise inexplicable action of the
Volunteers of 1778, of the insurgents of 1798, of the Fenians of 1867;
men, apparently sane, who expended quite a lot of money on buying or
manufacturing deadly arms. Had they realised that the weapons might kill
the poor soldiers who were guarding their country, it is unquestionable
that they would not have been so inhumane as to procure them. Again,
former generations of young Irishmen had no sound notions as to what is
proper and gentlemanly. They always failed to recognise that it is not
respectable to get yourself hanged, and could never be got to see that
prison clothes, no matter how well-made, are not becoming. Robert Emmet
was actually guilty of the impropriety of smiling on the scaffold; and
surely it was very near blasphemy for three Irish murderers, with
manacled hands uplifted from an English dock, to call upon God to “save
Ireland”--as if that were not the job of the British Government.
* * * * *
Fortunately, we live in a more cultured as well as in a more religious
age. We have studied Dynamics and know that firearms are dangerous; we
have studied Political Economy and know that it is bad economy to expend
money upon a national armament, seeing that we already pay the British
Army to fight for us; we have studied Ethics and know that it is
unlawful to rise against an established government. We have also
cultivated a sense of decorum and a sense of humour. We see that
militarism is not only wrong but, what is worse, ridiculous; and we
should (very properly) hesitate to go out drilling lest they might put a
caricature of us in _Punch_.
* * * * *
My knowledge that all this is so makes me doubt the rumour that a
considerable number of young Irishmen have resolved to take arms and to
train themselves in the use of arms. The improbability is increased when
I come to examine the details of the report. Thus, a Provisional
Committee including university professors, schoolmasters, solicitors,
barristers, journalists, aldermen, public servants, commercial men, and
gentlemen of leisure, is spoken of. I have never known persons of that
sort to do anything more exciting than talk over tea and scones in the
D. B. C. There are among those classes in Dublin many who are quite
fearless--in debate; many who are extraordinarily prompt--in retort; a
few who are really able and vigorous--in smashing their opponents’
arguments. That such men would turn aside from the realities of
dialectics to the theatricalities of military preparation seems highly
improbable. When it is added that the Provisional Committee includes
United Irish Leaguers, Hibernians, Sinn Féiners, Gaelic Leaguers, and
even a few who call themselves simply Separatists, the untruth of the
whole story becomes almost manifest; for it is well known that there
never has been and that there never can be anything like cordial
co-operation between such widely-differing sections of politicians and
non-politicians in Ireland. I dismiss therefore the tale of a huge
tumultuous meeting of seven or eight thousand people in the largest hall
in Dublin, with immense overflow meetings in neighbouring buildings and
gardens; the detailed accounts of nightly drillings in various halls;
the absurd rumour that Galway (well known to have no other interest than
racing, fishing, and British tourists) and Cork (which is prepared to
fight all Ireland on the question of conciliation) have flung themselves
into the movement; and finally the grotesque fable that young men who
are eating their way to the bar or preparing to purchase dispensary
appointments from Boards of Guardians have paused in their honourable
careers in order to learn how to shoot. These things have happened in
other countries and in other times; but surely not in our own country
and in our own time.
* * * * *
Consider the dislocating effect of such a movement. In the first place,
it would make Home Rule, now about to be abandoned in deference to armed
Ulster, almost a certainty; in a second place, should Home Rule
miscarry, it would give us a policy to fall back upon. Again, it would
make men and citizens of us, whereas we are quite comfortable as old
women and slaves. Furthermore, it would unite us in one all-Ireland
movement of brotherly co-operation, whereas we derive infinite pleasure
from quarrelling with one another. The comfortable feeling that we are
safe behind the guns of the British Army, like an infant in its mother’s
arms, the precious liberty of confuting one another before the British
public and thus gaining empire-wide reputations for caustic Celtic
humour and brilliant Celtic repartee--these are things that we will not
lightly sacrifice. For these privileges have we not cheerfully allowed
our population to be halved and our taxation to be quadrupled? Enough
said. Volunteering is undesirable. Volunteering is impossible.
Volunteering is dangerous.