I consider myself a human being who just happens to be Irish. Which, of itself
makes me no better and no worse than any other of my species.
Emmet and Tone were not ethnically Irish nor is there any evidence that they
could speak a sentence in Irish, the language spoken by the vast majority
of their fellow-countrymen and women and children in their time. Nor did
they share the Catholicism of Ireland’s majority. Tone apparently had no
religious beliefs whatever. In their wisdom, most Irish people for at least
two centuries have revered them as Saints.
Patrick Pearse was one of many of our Patriots with an English parent. His
radicalism he got from his father, a disciple of the atheist Charles Bradlaugh,
founder of Britain’s National Secular Society.
Pearse’s “Murder Machine” denunciation of the joyless Utilitarian education he
saw him in Ireland is so clearly derived from the English novelist’s Hard Times
that I’m surprised he hasn’t been condemned for plagiarism. Perhaps the
Jesuit reincarnation of Titus Oates whose Irish Times Tripe and Treason
calumniated Pearse and traduced our State on the centenary of the 1916
Rising, is as ignorant of English literature as he is of Irish history.
I revere a great number of Englishmen and women, not least Samuel Johnson.
He described languages as the “Pedigrees of Nations” and deplored their
dying out.
I hear that Gemma Hussey has just died and pray that she will be forgiven her
foolishness.
She ran a Language School in Dublin and was appalled when, on being appointed
Minister of Education, she met her Department’s Senior Servants that they introduced themselves under their Gaelic names. She considered them outlandish.
With other female feminists she flocked to hear an American feminist, whose
name I forget.
Gemma reported – “She held us all in the palm of her hand. It was a Seminal Moment.”
WHAT A LOAD OF BALLS!
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