IRISH HISTORY
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PREFACE
Having been born in Ireland and raised on Irish history, I naturally held the impression that the whole world knew the same history; knew the history that I had read in books, that I had learned in school; knew the history that I had heard spoken of around the warm turf fires on the long winter nights; knew the history that was so real I almost lived it; knew the heroes and heroines that were so substantial, I could almost reach out and touch them. Some
would call this an idealistic view of history, others naive.
For history is never simple, straightforward or uncontroversial.
This is because there is never only one past, and therefore never only
one truth about it. The world of
the past is far too complex for only one true account to be given of it. Historians
give many accounts of the past, all equally based on firm factual evidence but
reflecting different interests and written from different perspectives. For
history is not just about the past. History
is about the past, understood from the present. The past may not change but the
present does. Each generation must
rethink the past because for each generation the past has given rise to a new
present. So the meaning of the past
continuously changes in relation to the evolving whole of which it forms a part:
the whole of history. For
these reasons, historians can never tell the "truth" about the past in
any single or absolute sense. It was, nevertheless, a shattering experience to discover that the
history being popularly espoused in a country like Australia (from British
sources) was nothing like the history the people of Ireland learn about their
own country. If the two accounts of the same history differ so much, then the
question that must be asked is: which one is correct in its essence? Although in
most cases, while both accounts may be substantially the same, the inferences
given by one, or the lean in a particular direction, can lead to an entirely
different interpretation. Depending on the degree of bias, the description of events, or of a
person, can have an entirely different tone or attitude:
Stephens
was a rabble-rouser who skulked in the countryside with his cronies stirring up
trouble among the naive and gullible. His political influence was limited to the
poorest classes. His meetings were often followed by scuffles and the
respectable middle classes began to fear what they regarded as his revolutionary
ambitions.
Or
Stephens
was a strong and dominant character, a man who combined intellectual powers with
high idealism, extraordinary self-confidence and a hypnotic optimism. He
travelled east and west over Ireland, from town to town, from village to
village, and it might be said, from farm to farm, laying the warp and weft of
the organisation, winning men by the thousands, and swearing them in fealty to
Ireland. He was a lonely figure as he walked the back roads of Ireland. His
story is an inspiration to all who fight against complacency and injustice. A
few loyal friends followed him always but his message also stirred the hearts of
the common people who flocked to his meetings throughout the countryside.
It would be close to, if not entirely impossible, for an English
historian to be completely impartial when dealing with the Irish question. The
truth would undermine the foothold the chronicler held on the very precipice of
civilisation. There would be an admission that civilisation, while under the
control of his or her people, instead of having advanced, may in fact have
regressed, in real terms. To admit to the possibility of a backslide, instead of
an enrichment of mankind, would be an affirmation that those who had gone before
— his or her own kindred — had been an abysmal, endless failure.
If nobody ever reads what I have written, it will have been worthwhile.
My heroes came back and lived with me for a time. Their broken bodies were whole
again, they were young again and they ran free. And at times I cried for them
all. If one person reads it, that will be enough. If it is understood, then
that will have been an achievement. One day, in heaven, God the Son said to God the Father: ‘Father I have
created a wonderful land, with the most fertile green fields and the most
luxuriant forests. I have filled the fresh waters with an abundance of fish and
the land I have filled with bounteous game. The ocean I have lavished with
plentiful food, to last for all eternity. To the country I have given a
coastline so exquisitely fair it would take your breath away. I have made it the
most beautiful land in the entire world.
‘To the people I have given a marvellous wit, a great love of music and
a mystical quality. I have given them love, kindness and generosity in excess. I
have given them mirth, gaiety and a profound love of life...’ ‘Hold on! Hold on!’ said the Father, ‘are you not being
extravagantly generous with these people?’ ‘Just wait’, replied the Son, ‘until you see the neighbours I’ve
given them’. Long long ago, beyond the misty space Of twice a thousand years, In Erin old there dwelt a mighty race, Taller that Roman spears; Like oaks and towers they had a giant grace, Were fleet as deers, With wind and waves they made their
’biding place These western shepherd seers. Thomas D’Arcy McGee.
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