Though when he thought about his overriding passion for the Common Man Movement, much remained to be accomplished. Too many fellow citizens had no hope of a career, home, or even the basic necessities of life. Peter harbored no doubt the challenge must be taken up fully this new year, lest inaction assigned it to failure.
The dawning of 1863 heralded fresh hope to continuing aspirations. Relaxation had been a refreshing tonic to clear mind, body and soul. Now Peter dove into his work with added vigor. Passion blossomed with Maggie Malloy. And details were fleshed fuller by Duncan Malloy for the start of their Common Man Movement.
Weeks later, a blustery late January wind gently rattled frosted panes on the handsome flat of Duncan Malloy. Inside, a dancing fire brought needed warmth, glowing merrily below the beautiful mantelpiece.
Protected from the elements, Duncan and Peter held important negotiations on the direction of their Common Man Movement. Details were put forth, debated and agreed in a mark of solid progress. When final preparations were made complete, Duncan weighed in with urgent news.
“Now that we’ve put pen to paper on a resolution to moving forward, I must inform you of a recent development.” Judging by the serious tone of Duncan’s voice, Peter prepared to hear of ill tidings.
“Go ahead Duncan; what have you learned?”
Duncan gave Peter a passing look of anxiety. Then he delivered the information.
“Peter, over the past number of years our family has been subject to surveillance by hostile parties. In the beginning we were cautious, though not too concerned. Recently, the intensity of activities has led father past idle speculation to possible proof provided by sources sympathetic to us. He is very concerned.”
“Duncan, this is very disconcerting! Is there anything I, we, the Men of Goodhope can do to counteract these activities? And who are these hostile parties?”
“Thank you for your support Peter. To answer your questions, let me take the last one first. We suspect for good reason this surveillance is being conducted by the British Security Force attachment stationed in Dublin. We are involved in a supreme battle, with the spoils too dear for either side to abandon. The prizes are clear; freedom or modern serfdom, liberty or exile, regardless of costs.
“Father convened last evening with the Men of Goodhope. Not one person at the gathering was surprised. They will exercise extra caution, taking further action if warranted at future meetings. And there’s more.”
Peter’s back suddenly felt a tingling sensation. “Well Duncan, let’s hear it out now!”
“Father and the others know that Dublin Castle takes its orders like lackeys in these types of matters, and never on their own directive. Long gone are the days of Irish influence over its own affairs. And in London where the Castle men kiss their feet it’s the fine old families over there that determine Ireland’s fate for future generations.
“Though even amongst those so privileged are a certain few that reign supreme, whose invisible control remains unopposed. Run afoul of their wishes, and risk great odds of absolute ruin! Why I say this is because your association with us may mean you too could run afoul of them. These are people whose obsession with control has no equal. So if you still desire to continue on with us, l will say more.”
Peter’s pounding heart leapt into his dry throat. Nervously clearing his windpipe, he carried forth with conviction.
“This does not change my resolve Duncan. These are things we must accept as hazards for our strong beliefs. Please carry on.”
A relieved Duncan recounted further developments. “Afterwards, father came in touch with me. In summary, he feels it is time to come out of secrecy in regards to our endeavor. Father is worried they are moving quickly to silence our family before we’ve had a chance to speak publicly. In other words, the time has come to launch our Common Man Movement.”
To hear Duncan’s last sentence was sweetness to Peter’s ears. In his long held view, the time for passion to become action was nigh.
“Duncan, I’m in complete agreement with your father. And we have just finished preparations for such a day. Though how will this affect my duties at Malloy’s?”
“No need to worry about that,” Duncan assured. “Father’s firm will continue to pay your wages, though now your work will be exclusively on the Common Man Movement. This is it Peter. We reach the country one person at a time, starting with our first public appearance in early March.”
“Then we have just over one month to prepare for the initial engagement. Where will that be?”
Duncan took out a worn map of Ireland from a nearby bookshelf before spreading it on an open table. “There,” he pointed with a firm finger. Peter noted a town in County Mayo whose name was partially covered by Duncan’s digit.
“County Mayo is clear across the country! I cannot see the name of that town your finger is on.”
“Greenhill is the place. Father thought it would be perfect to start our efforts there. They’ve been severely affected by ills shared across this land. And they will listen, as a trusted associate has been involved with that community for years. He will ease our introduction to the people there.”
“So that’s where we shall launch our initiative. Is there any more details I should be made aware of?”
“You mean beyond tidying up your affairs before traveling away? Yes there is, strictly from a cautionary standpoint. Post your mother right before we leave in March. Tell her you are on extended business for a period. No specifics or even a hint of what is truly afoot! We suspect our posts are being monitored.
“Next, keep mention of our activities to a minimum, even around close associates. One can never be too paranoid about possible informants. That would be all I can think of for now.”
“Fair enough Duncan. Isn’t it nice to know we’re embarking on the pursuit of a dream? Most never even get to wonder, concerned with routine as they are. Having a chance to realize a long held conviction means we’re truly blessed. Surely we cannot squander this opportunity!”
Duncan was putting his map back on its shelf when he turned to face Peter. “You realize if we “squander” our plans there is the very real possibility of personal endangerment? Our enemies are assembling, becoming poised and ready. Secret powers guide a large hand which desires to crush all which oppose it.
“Make no mistake; your life is now intertwined with uplifting the majority in this land. I cannot think of any nobler mission in all the land at this moment. So here we accept all sacrifices that engenders in its fullest implications, right through to our very lives.”
“We have worked so diligently for this day to come. We will not fail in the hour of its arrival,” replied a committed Peter.
“Very well, now all is out in the open. Let’s get some food in our bellies and call it a day.”
Peter and Duncan took their coats, preparing to meet the blustery elements outside. Yet inside their bundled bodies, the fire of anticipation stoked their minds while lifting longing hearts.
In the following weeks, Peter followed Duncan’s sage advice. He managed to complete all his assignments at Malloy’s while finishing routine household tasks. On the eve of his departure for County Mayo, he mailed a post to his mother in Kilmarnie. Later, Peter afforded himself a good night’s rest for the long journey ahead.
Next morning, both men met at the entrance to their building for precisely six o’clock. From here, they departed for Broadstone Station. The train route would take them back to the west counties.
Peter and Duncan held lively conversation about the various towns they passed along the way. They were careful to make no mention of their upcoming plans. On arrival at the recently opened station in Castlebar, they hired a cab to complete their journey. Good time was made by the driver on this final leg to the town of Greenhill.
When they first laid eyes upon Greenhill, they could see it had enjoyed bett
er days. Masonry on larger structures in the town center ran scarred with cracking. Yard lots looked unkempt, some strewn with nasty thorn weed or nettles. Townsfolk wore the full effect of hard times in worn faces, making even the young look prematurely aged.
Peter gave Duncan a knowing look as they approached their destination of Greenhill Commons. All around was the depraved state of living conditions so rampant throughout Eire. Today would mark their initial efforts to cleanse such conscious corruption which lead the country to these ills.
Their carriage pulled up to the prescribed location of this first engagement. There was nothing remarkable about the grounds, situated near the center of this small County Mayo village. Judging by their travel time, Greenhill was about ten miles away from the nearest large town of Ballina. Upon paying their driver, the two men stepped down to touch solid ground once again.
“Here we are Peter,” beamed an excited Duncan. “We’re in County Mayo for the first public appearance of our Common Man Movement. I wonder if our attendees know what is in store.”
Peter gave him a practical stare. “Duncan, I think the real question is if we can convey our convictions to an average citizen. A citizen who is just a few meals away from starvation, a month’s rent away from forced eviction, and two month’s away from emigration. They have to believe we are not just more fancy trousers getting pleasure from powerful words.”
Duncan cast a quick look around. “People like these have stared the wolf away from their door for many a day, determined to make a stand for what’s left of the earth their ancestors toiled for generations. Oh yes Peter, such eyes could easily look through the thin veil of any charlatan’s chatter! I trust they will see that, hungrily eating our offerings of assistance.”
“Well said Duncan. Now who are we going to meet at these grounds? And is the weather expected to hold up today?”
“Well Peter, a local almanac predicted clear skies would welcome us back to the west counties. Therefore, I do expect a decent turnout, though one can never be sure of these things. Samuel McGee, one of our key contacts in the county, is a solid man with fire for immediate action on self-government. Believe me, if there is a paucity of attendees, it will not be from his lack of effort!”
“We have no choice now but to trust in him. I remember my grandfather Eamon telling me back in Kilmarnie all good progress begins with a few small steps. This afternoon we have come to start walking!”
Just then a middle aged man sporting a thick auburn beard approached them. His gait suggested a man of quiet confidence.
“Good day from Samuel McGee to Duncan Malloy and Peter Harvey,” he greeted warmly. “It appears the weather is cooperating with our afternoon.” He extended a hand and shook theirs in turn.
“We hope it will encourage a few of the curious to come out and hear us speak,” replied Peter. “How do things stand at the moment?”
“My men have placed notices in all the best places to catch peoples’ attention. We know our fellow townsfolk around here well enough to expect a decent showing. You gentlemen are probably aware that County Mayo is one of the worst hit areas in our country for evictions, contributed in some part by a particular landowner.
“On top of that, we’ve had a hellish ravaging by starvation, dropsy, cholera and other pestilences. Ireland continues to be occupied by wholesale misery. The White Horse rode in long ago, but the Black and Pale Horse have ridden roughshod since The Great Famine!”
Peter and Duncan listened in rapt attention. In their mind’s eye the effects of neglect by a seemingly uninvolved Dublin Castle was laying waste to this country. The very lifeblood for its future was being cut down by starvation, deprivation and emigration.
More people entered the grounds while they went over their preparations. Once all were in agreement, Samuel McGee spoke.
“Peter and Duncan, the hour has come upon us. To see you both here does me good and my family proud. My grandfather took part in the 1798 rebellion. He left his homestead here in County Mayo, supporting the Wexford Irishmen’s cause. He placed his life on the line for the cause of self-government, away from our overseers in London.
“Now, over sixty years later the tide is rising again! And this time around I aim to do much more. I gladly place my efforts alongside yours to see that justice may be served for all Irish people.
“Make no mistake, when we finally arrive at some form of self-government, mothers and daughters throughout the land will be heard to weep in their thousands. I truly wish that peaceful efforts like yours could spare the lives of many. But yes, Eire will surely be paid with the blood of many before she is satisfied! Enough of me gentlemen, it looks time to take our places on stage.”
Samuel, Peter and Duncan mounted the temporary stage and looked out into their small audience. Peter strained his eyes to look directly into the expectant gazes of a few people. He observed a mix of emotions on weary faces etched with curiosity, hope and anxiety. One could only imagine what their purpose for attendance may be.
Regardless, he and Duncan came to deliver messages which would hopefully capture the conviction of just a few. From these beacons of enlightenment, they hoped to spread attention to organized action.
Waiting to commence the meeting were an anxious yet confident Duncan Malloy and Peter Harvey. Posters plastered in the town square by associates of Samuel McGee drew fair interest for their public engagement. Even as McGee prepared to deliver his commencement, the small audience continued to grow with an influx of curious onlookers.
Finally, their affable host and committed movement member for self-government began to speak. His captivating style of speech was reputed to be well appreciated in public forums.
McGee raised his arms. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I please have your attention,” he shouted out. “I welcome you all to listen as two compatriots from Dublin address issues of concern to us across County Mayo and the whole of Ireland!
“Let me add I would not share the same stage with anyone I deemed of poor conviction in the struggles of common citizens. So it is my pleasure to introduce two staunch allies for self-government in Ireland, Duncan Malloy and Peter Harvey.”
A smattering of hesitant clapping greeted the participating speakers. Duncan came towards the edge of this wooden stage and looked about in silence. He appeared to be sizing them up, judging if they could comprehend the weight of his delivery. He soon had them eagerly anticipating his words.
“Let me begin by saying if you came here to be amazed, leave here disappointed because I am not a conjuror of magic. If you came here to be pleasured by soft chords of music, leave here empty because I am not a musician. If you came here desiring mesmerizing phrases of beautiful poetry, leave here unfulfilled because for that talent I have none. But if you have come here to gain something more fruitful than any of those things, stay to be enriched!
“Many of you know the name of Samuel McGee. I am honored to share the same podium with one so deeply committed to the rights of everyday citizens. And today with your help I hope to do more deeds to justify my words.”
Duncan had the crowd’s attention. His impassioned, straightforward manner gave him leave to continue further without interruption.
His finger waggled in the empty air ahead of him. “Self-government starts with sufficiency for each family to weather these miserable times. Peter Harvey and I come to County Mayo with more than words; talk will not feed empty stomachs! County Mayo is one of the worst affected through The Great Famine and eviction, so we begin our efforts here. The time for talk is over! The time to judge by action has arrived.
“When traveling the broad green breadth of this land, I still witness time and again good hearts of my fellow citizens scared by The Great Famine over ten years old. I see neighbors shoved into the dearth of nothing by forced eviction day and night.
“Closer to port towns and villages, the malnourished and threadbare among us l
ook for some strange land far beyond our horizon to rescue their mortal souls. In the last instance, many die of rampant disease aboard an insufferable coffin ship, never to see their relations again. This is not the result of a home government ruling with good will for its native citizens!
“With no home government, there is no awareness of the issues in our country. No one can tell me with a straight face that a parliament in London can make good decisions for a starving farmer outside Ballina! There is no inherent goodwill in consolidating parliament of Ireland in London; it represents a bold faced grab for power.
“I appeal to everyone’s sense of dignity. Ireland has lost far too many sons and daughters in the past decades. Across the Irish Sea, England enjoys the prosperity of an industrial revolution while leaving many in Ireland in the Dark Ages. Was not an advantage of shared politics to be shared prosperity? Or was it a consolidation of resources as well?
“We exported grains to England which could have been used to feed tens of thousands in Ireland, even in the cruelest days of The Great Famine. Back in 1783, when famine threatened our green earth, our Irish based government stopped the export of grains. Was not our food stores used by a home based parliament back then to fend off such massive starvation?
“Freedom is never given; it is usually won against overwhelming odds versus powerfully entrenched interests. Any true sense of the word is made a mockery in our present scheme of affairs in Ireland. Who suffers most for that? You do; the everyday man and woman with no means to survive and no interest in your betterment.
“So the real question is; how do we obtain our basic rights as Irish citizens? This is where I hope our presence will be warranted for greater achievement. My movement, Peter Harvey’s movement, is called the Common Man Movement. Our aims are simple yet will prove effective.
The Watchman's Grace Page 33