The Rebels of Ireland (The Dublin Saga, #2)

by Edward Rutherfurd

He’d been a parish priest for thirty years, and there wasn’t much he hadn’t seen. Before the wedding, he had called Walter and her together and given them some simple and sage advice. No matter what they did, he told them, every day of their married life in the future, they should always consider, before they said or did anything, how that would seem to the other. Was it kind and respectful of their feelings? “From a lifetime of observation and experience I can say,” he told them, “that if you just do this I can – almost – guarantee that you will have a happy marriage.”

Check out this quote.

“A man’s religion is a matter of personal conscience,” they said. “Why should we force the Irish to be Protestants?” Nobody had ever heard such an argument before.

wonderfully simple and ahead of its time

“So does nobody care about Ireland?” “Nobody. Neither King Louis, nor King Billie, nor King James.” He nodded thoughtfully. “The fate of Ireland will be decided by men not a single one of whom gives a damn about her. That is her tragedy.”

dirty politics

The Laws were a typical family of their kind. Their faith, though it derived from the Calvinism of the century before, was of a gentler nature. They found inspiration in the simple affection of their family, in praying, or better yet, singing, the beloved Psalms together. And they were not without humour. Nonetheless, they were tough Scots, with a strict Presbyterian Church, and they believed firmly in the virtue of hard work and frugal living. They had, all of them, a sharp eye for profit and a dislike of unnecessary costs. Mr. Law had been able to acquire a handsome town house in Belfast; but when his wife had suggested she’d like some fine silk curtains for the parlour, she had been told that the old tapestry ones left by the previous owner, with only a small amount of mending – her husband kindly got down on his knees to show her how easily the thing could be done – might perfectly well be made to serve another twenty years. And since a display of silk would, in any case, be vanity and ostentation, religion dictated what her husband desired, and so there had been no need for the matter ever to be raised again.

brilliant writing

For the underlying cause is this. Ireland will be mistreated so long as its Parliament is subservient to that of London. We elect men as our representatives, yet their decisions are set at naught. London has not the moral or constitutional right to legislate for Ireland.”

Never has, never will.

“Let me make clear,” Swift said emphatically, “it is my opinion that all government without the consent of the governed is the very essence of slavery.”

ideed!

All over the world, the old tyrannies were being set aside: the tyrannies of outworn authorities over the body and the mind. In America, in France, men would be free to choose their governments, make their own laws, and worship, or not worship, as they pleased. The reign of oppressor and oppressed, of Catholic and Protestant, would pass away at last. The age of reason had arrived, and surely now, all that was needed was a kick or two, and the rotten old structures of the past would collapse of their own accord. He was grateful that he should have had the chance to be a part of the dawning of this new and better world. A better world for his children.

There are twenty-seven public houses in this miserable place, my lord, and the priests are watching all of them. It’s a terrible thing to see so many good men sober.”