Possibly, I thought, the clergymen of Limerick were hurried into support of
red labor. What was the attitude of those who had a perspective on the
situation towards communism?
Just outside Limerick, in the town of Ennis in the county of Clare--Clare
as well as Kerry has the reputation of shooting down informers at
sight--there dwells the most loved bishop in Ireland. The Lenten pastoral
of the Right Reverend Michael Fogarty, bishop of Killaloe, was so fervently
national that when it was twice mailed to the Friends of Irish Freedom in
America it was twice refused carriage by the British government. There was
no doubt that he was for Sinn Fein. But how did he stand towards labor?
Past an ancient Norman castle on which was whitewashed the legend "Up De
Valera!" into the low-built little town of Ennis, I drove up to the modest
colonial home that is called the "episcopal palace," Bishop Fogarty invited
me to take off my "wet, cold, ugly coat," and to sit at a linen-covered
spot at the long plush-hung library table. As he rang a bell, he told me I
must be hungry after my drive. Then a maid brought in a piping-hot dinner
of delicious Irish stew. I sat down quite frankly hungry, but from a rather
resentful glance which the maid gave me, I have since suspicioned that I
ate the bishop's dinner.
First I told the bishop that I am a Catholic. Then I said I was informed
that there was a reaction against the Church in Ireland, against being what
American Protestants call "priest-ridden." The first reason of the
reaction, I was told, was the fact that the people felt that the hierarchy
was not in favor of a republic. Indeed I had it from an Irish-American
priest in Dublin that many of the Irish bishops were in a bad way, because
neither the English government nor the people trusted them.
"Priest-ridden?" The bishop smiled. "Priest-ridden? England would like us
to control these people for her today. We couldn't if we would.
Priest-ridden? Perhaps the other way about."
The second reason, it was said, is due to the fact that the workers feel
that the Church is standing with the capitalists. A Dublin Catholic, wife
of an American correspondent stationed in that city, told me that socialism
is so strong in the very poor parish of St. Mary's pro-cathedral in Dublin
that out of 40,000 members, there were 16,000 who were not practising their
religion.
"A lie!" exclaimed the bishop as his jaw shot out and his great muscular
frame straightened as if to meet physical combat on the score. "It is
simply not true. The loyalty of the Irish to the Catholic Church is
unquestionable."
And anyway, he indicated, if the people desired a communistic government
there is no essential opposition in the Catholic Church.
In the past, said the bishop, the Church in Ireland had thrived under
common ownership. When in the fifth century Patrick evangelized Ireland,
the ancient Irish were practising a kind of socialism. There was a common
ownership of land. Each freeman had a right to use a certain acreage. But
the land of every man, from the king down, might be taken away by the
state. There was an elected king, and assemblies of nobles and freemen.
There were arbitration courts where the lawgivers decided on penalties, and
whose decisions were enforced by the assemblies. One of the reasons, the
bishop said, that England had found it difficult to rule the Irish, was
that she attempted to force a feudal government on a socialistic people.
Recently--to illustrate that the Irish still retain their instinct for
common ownership--there had been, as the bishop mentioned, a successful
socialistic experiment in Clare. On looking up this fact at a later time, I
discovered that the experiment had points of resemblance to the ancient
state.[2] In 1823 the English socialist, Robert Owen, visited Ireland. His
outline of the possibilities of co-operation on socialistic lines inspired
the foundation of the Hibernian Philanthropic Society. It was in 1831 that
Arthur Vandeleur, one of the members of the society, decided he would
establish a socialist colony on his estate in Ralahine, Clare county. A
large tract of land was to be possessed and developed by a group of
tenants. This property was not, incidentally, a gift, but was to be held by
Mr. Vandeleur until the tenants were able to pay for it. An elected
committee of nine, and a general assembly of all men and women members of
the society, were the government. The committee's decision against an
offending member of society could be enforced or not by the members. The
success of the society is acknowledged. Through it was introduced the first
reaping machine into Ireland. By it the condition of the toiler was much
raised, and might have been more greatly elevated but for the fact that the
community had to pay a very heavy annual rental in kind to Mr. Vandeleur.
The experiment came to a premature end, however, because of the passing of
the estate out of the hands of Mr. Vandeleur, and the non-recognition of
the right of such a community to hold a lease or to act as tenants under
the land laws of Great Britain.
"Why should there not be a modernized form of the ancient Gaelic state?"
asked the bishop.
When I spoke of the Russian soviet, and stated that I heard that the Roman
Catholic church had spread in eight dioceses under the new government, the
bishop nodded his head. The Church, he said, had nothing to fear from the
soviet.
"Certainly not from the Limerick soviet," I suggested. "It was there that I
saw a red-badged guard rise to say the Angelus."
"Isn't it well," smiled the bishop, "that communism is to be
Christianized?"
[Footnote 1: Notice was given by the General Prison Board of Ireland on
November 24, 1919, that no prisoner on hunger strike would obtain release.
It was stated that the hunger-striker alone would be responsible for the
consequences of his refusal to take food.]
[Footnote 2: "Labour in Irish History." By James Connolly. Maunsel and
Company. 1917. P. 122.]