The Old Irish World

								

glories of their history, and called on them to admit into their souls
the spirit of their fathers.


“Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed
From dead men to their kind.”
When they have wished to depress and subjugate a race they have slammed
the doors of their history on them, and left them alone, spiritless and
forlorn, passed by and forgotten by the Ages, despised of themselves
and of their neighbours.
Whether therefore as men of a reasonable nature, or as members of a
nation, we are bound to make History our all-important study. There is
no question about this in any self-respecting nation in Europe. How
does the case stand with us in Ireland?
When I first began the study of Irish History, I was dissuaded from it
by a man of exceedingly acute mind and wide reading. His argument, I
imagine, is a common one, and shows the kind of scruples that are set
to bar our way to Irish history--as some primeval race once planted the
slope of Cahir Mor on Aran with a forest of jagged standing-stones, to
forbid all entrance to the fortress uplifted there above the expanse
of the Ocean in its freedom. Why, said my typical objector, should we
turn away from the great highways of the world’s progress, with their
sweeping procession of Empires and great Dominions, to lose ourselves
in the maze where humble and unsuccessful nationalities walk obscurely.
Stimulate the spirit of young men by giving them the examples of heroes
whose fame has sounded through the earth, and societies that have been
adorned by triumph. Let the men of local fame, the guardians of smaller
nationalities, rest in darkness, and let us follow the sun in its
strength.
We may remember one of the snares laid by the Prince of Evil for the
Son of Man, when he set Him on a high place above the kingdoms of
the world, to bend His soul before their ostentatious glory. From
the mountain Satan displayed the emblems of their pride, palaces and
towers and treasuries, “knowing that it was by those alone that he
himself could have been so utterly lost to rectitude and beatitude. Our
Saviour spurned the temptation, and the greatest of His miracles was
accomplished.” England was just at the outset of her imperial career
when Milton, in his “Paradise Regained,” pictured that tremendous
scene, the passing of the empires in their state before the judgment of
the Divine Reason. The prodigious procession was marshalled from the
very dawn of history, powers and dominions sweeping over the earth,
and disappearing with the suddenness with which they rose. Not one has
survived. In the shifting scene forms of states move and stir dimly
like the fallen angels from “Paradise Lost” as they lay prone, extended
on the flood of ruin and combustion. One scheme of government after
another is lifted up to be cast down--tyranny, oligarchy, slavery,
commercialism, communism, parliaments, theocracies. The great warriors