A wit of the time met Goldsmith at dinner. The
novelist was a little more disconcerting than usual, a result, let us
charitably hope, of the excellence of the claret. Afterwards they asked
his fellow-diner what he thought of the author. "Well," he replied, "I
believe that that man wrote 'The Vicar of Wakefield,' and, let me tell
you, it takes a lot of believing." Similarly when we in Ireland learn
that Great Britain has founded on the principle of local autonomy an
Empire on which the sun never sets, we nerve ourselves to an Act of
Faith. It is not inappropriate to observe that a large part of the
"founding" was done by Irishmen.
But the point of immediate interest lies in this. The foolishness of
England in Ireland finds an exact parallel, although on a smaller scale
and for a shorter period, in the early foolishness of England in her own
colonies. In both cases there is an attempt to suppress individuality
and initiative, to exploit, to bully, to Downing Street-ify. It was a
policy of Unionism, the sort of Unionism that linked the destiny of the
lady to that of the tiger.
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