AN ULSTERMAN FOR IRELAND
To demonstrate in some conspicuous manner before all the people the utter falsity, futility, and weakness of the whole British Parliamentary system of government in Ireland; on how very unreal a basis it stood, and how it only needed a charm—some words boldly and truly spoken, some deeds boldly and openly done, and the whole structure, apparently so staunch and mighty, with its towers, and wings, and pinnacles, and dungeons, all of diabolic masonry, would vanish instantly, and leave scarce a smell of brimstone, to do this, or in any efficient manner help to do it, seemed to me precisely the most excellent, beneficent, religious and glorious deed that Irishmen in this age of the world could do. And that it could be done I had no doubt;—that the thing was unreal, was a huge lie, and product of diabolic art, I knew well. What! a system by which a beautiful and fertile island, producing noble and superabundant harvests year after year, became gradually poorer and poorer—was reduced to beg its bread—reduced at length to utter starvation; and, finally, to cannibalism—a system under which millions of men, who toiled their lives through from morning to night, found at length they had no rights, but a right to public alms, and had realised, with all their toiling, nothing but the chance of a relief-ticket—a state of society wherein the tillers of the soil, the real masters and lords thereof, were continually found (with hat, or remnant of hat, in hand) beseeching, flattering, and bribing a few red-faced, thick-headed, and insolent individuals for leave to labour, and to live by their labour on Irish
34
