*THE
WORKER*
Brisbane
September 15, 1894.
BYSTANDERS
NOTEBOOK.
COERCION
IN QUEENSLAND.
A
Coercion Act for Queensland! Surely it cannot be. Mayhap the people
are mad, or perhaps I am dreaming – dreaming of the old days of
pain and SORROW, agony and despair, in the old land, where coercion
is rampant, oppression triumphant, and Liberty – the brightest gem
in all the world – is stricken unto death. But alas, the kindly
offices of a table fork pieced into my leg assures me I awake and
that the grim horror of coercion is a fact. O' Queensland are the
liberties won through ages of suffering and rivers of blood to be
stranged in a night. Is the delicate flower that perfumes and
beautifies our life to be destroyed by a poisonous weed imported from
other lands. It is not to be, I hope, while brave hearts and sturdy
soldiers of freedom exist to win and maintain for mankind the
priceless boon of liberty without which life is shorn of its glory,
its dignity and its joy.
*
* *
MEMORIES
OF THE PAST.
Three
months for whistling “Harvey Duff,” three months for the “Pleerer
and the Goat;” six months for “winking at a pig;” six months as
a “ Land Leaguer;” twelve months for “resisting the bailiff;”
the plank bed, the baton wounds, the bayonet stabs. How it all comes
back to me; the fierce and bitter passions of a raid, the wild joy of
a triumph. I remember it all with mingled joy and indignation. The
name of coercion opens up the old wounds, and I find the old bitter
curse rise to my lips as I think of my sorely stricken country whose
gallant sons sought in other lands that freedom it were perilous to
think of at home. With what spirit Queenslanders will meet this drug
I do not know. To many of them it will be new, but to Irishmen it is
old; they have experienced the cruelty of it, the memory of it is
stamped in burning letters upon their minds never to be erased. The
fire that blazed in their hearts against it in the land they left
still burns as bright as ever. No Irishman will cheer the hell hounds
of oppression that have desolated their own land and made them
exiles.
*
* *
WHICH
IRELAND?
No
Irishman will do it, I said, but what of their descendants? I
contemplated with aversion one who says “his ancestors were Irish
and be is proud of it,” and yet approves the curse of his father's
country. He is proud of Ireland and Irishmen. There are two Irelands,
two races of Irishmen, with two histories, clear, distinct,
antithetical. To which of the two does the Attorney General belong?
Dublin Castle or College Green! Police or the people? Patriots or
informers? Where are the records of the family to be found? In the
“Rogue's Gallery” or “Speeches from the Dock?” In the
National Library or the secret drawers of Dublin Castle? The Hon.
Gentleman cannot belong to both. The two are as distinct as the
poles. To which does he belong? Let his actions speak for themselves.
He approves of Coercion. He has resurrected “Buckshot” Forster
and “Bludgeon” Balfour in his native land. He stigmatises the
opponents of the poison that has blighted Ireland “criminals,”
“incendiaries,” “sympathisers with murder,” “brigands,”
and other terms of endearment that has characterised the oppressors,
the betrayers, the bitter and implacable foes of Irish liberty since
the struggle for freedom began. All of this shows, the whole attitude
of the hon. Gentleman shows to which of the two Irelands he belongs.
I belong to the other.
*
* *
PATRIOT
OR INFORMER
Those
who have resisted coercion have adorned Ireland; those who have
assisted it have disgraced her. No suffering, no calumny, no
punishment could daunt the heroic souls who struggled against every
aggression. The Tones, the Grattans, the Emmets, the O'Connells, the
Mitchells, the Parnells, constitute her gradeur and her glory. Their
life's work causes the bosom of the true Irishmen to leave with holy
emotion and to bow his head in profound veneration when their names
are mentioned. But the work of the other race, the Castereaghs,
Clares, Reynolds, Armstrongs, Talbots, Keoghs, Sadliers, Peter the
packers, and the Piggots are her shame and dishonour and only live to
excite the scorn of all the world. Let the attorney General stand as
patron saint to the imported Irish curse; let renegade Irishmen
forge; the noblest traditions of their race and stand beside the
persecutor; let those who will support the despotism of unbridled
power. I elect to renew the old battle to preserve those liberties –
the defence of which – has made me an exile from my native land.
Tim.
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