The Watchman's Grace

by Craig Johnson

  Peter listened attentively. The matter was probably of little consequence, though he thought it best to heed the words of Padraig Kelly and Samuel McGee. There was much afoot in the land while both he and Duncan were attracting increasing profiles. A healthy dose of awareness could not hurt to counteract their obvious vulnerabilities in a volatile public.

  “From what you say, it could have been him, though there’s really nothing to go on. All the same, it would do us no harm to be more aware of our surroundings and those people within them. We are constantly putting ourselves out there, without aid or protection. Your family is presumed to be under watch in Dublin, so it is not a stretch they have a tail on your activities elsewhere.”

  Duncan appreciated the observation. “Your advice is accepted. Well now, looks like Samuel is already awaiting our presence. Ah, it’s so good to see a familiar face to start things off!”

  Samuel McGee waived to his colleagues while they disembarked from the carriage. He carried a hearty laugh, hailing them from a few feet away.

  “Duncan, Peter, your timing is perfect. I just arrived perhaps ten minutes ago. Anyways, welcome to Queen’s College, Cork. I guess it’s sort of a homecoming for you two. It’s the same establishment, just a different city.”

  “So true Samuel,” replied Duncan. “Let’s move inside and prepare for the engagement.” With no further delay they walked to the appointed spot inside university grounds.

  On arriving at their temporary stage in the main quadrangle, they were held in awe by the beautiful lines of limestone Victorian Gothic architecture. Here, in this magnificent setting, they would speak to their largest audience to date. Expectations from both presenters and audience would be high.

  The trio decided Peter would deliver their main address. He was keenly aware of the implicit responsibility this entailed. Below them, steady streams of attendees were positioned by stewards from the local movement in County Cork. Soon, the space became very packed. Overhead, the sky held its contents in a gray ambivalence to all activities below.

  “We should be lucky today,” remarked Duncan, craning his neck to the above. “Clouds are about, but they don’t threaten us. Well, from the looks of it, our time has arrived. I hope it all unfolds in a positive manner.”

  At that moment Samuel went to the platform’s edge, signaling to their stewards below. Soon all murmurs turned to quiet anticipation, with most eyes trained ahead.

  “Welcome ladies and gentlemen to our first visit in the lovely city of Cork. I want to thank this administration for their gracious use of these magnificent grounds. Through voicing our aims, everyone here shall see the welfare of all people in Ireland is our highest objective.

  “I will now introduce you to a man who embodies the passion of a New Ireland, one which shows what opportunity and drive can accomplish. Our audience would be hard pressed to find a person more committed to the aims of a modern, just society. See and hear for yourself as I introduce Mr. Peter Harvey.”

  Samuel firmly shook Peter’s hand as he passed the lead to him. Peter then stared out into the large crowd. Before him stood the greatest audience their Common Man Movement had ever addressed.

  For a few moments he let the audience continue with their resounding applause. Lifting his arms forward at the same time, he appeared to embrace their outpouring emotions. Then he placed them slowly back at his side, signaling his intention to commence speaking.

  “We thank you people of Cork for your sincere expressions of welcome. And in turn greet all the compassionate men, women and children who made time in their busy day. I shall endeavor to say words that will prove worthy of your personal sacrifices today.

  “Here I stand before you, humbled by many great people whom have spoken profound words in the recent past of this fair city. I am particularly moved to be in the same city which, back in October 1845, gave great support to a certain esteemed statesman.

  “He appealed, through experience and testimony, about the perils of slavery. His oratory provided zealous advocacy for its total abolishment everywhere on our planet. Freedom was his sword, and he sought kinship with people all over who fought for this noble cause. His name of course was Frederick Douglass.

  “In my mind, there was no coincidence to his timely arrival here in Ireland. Even to the most uncaring eye, there is an ill wind blowing throughout Eire. Its stench can be smelled even by those far from our shores, where the foul air has stirred compassionate action. I speak of course about the hot oven of oppression.

  “Only in America you say? No is the immediate response, as it exists world over. To our shores came one Frederick Douglass because he needed to visit the source of this lingering air. In fact, it had a tinge familiar to that circulating in his native America.

  “People, can we not know in our hearts that today we are all slaves of these current circumstances in Ireland? Daily, the enemy tries to break our spirit. The poverty of material things imposed on fellow Irishman is accompanied by a poverty of morality. They will continue with a wicked agenda as long as it remains profitable.

  “In the end, these rotten results will surely continue to drive us from our lands, making us scatter far and abroad. Our ancient soil will be a stranger to many with a heavy, longing heart. And all will be blighted with a deep, sorrowful burden of loss.”

  Peter put so much conviction into his speech that teary eyes spotted awakened faces throughout the audience. Their Common Man Movement was concerned with saving no less than the birthright of future promise. He spoke with the warrior heart of a man who loved his country too much to care about petty semantics. Upon pausing to let varied thoughts sink into conscious, he continued forward.

  “I came as an orphaned infant, washed upon grey shores two decades before on the west coast. Ireland became my home through the loving care of my mother Mary, grandfather Eamon and many solid individuals in Kilmarnie. In that period, there was no time to play with idle malcontent. Living was hard enough, as you all surely know. Yet always, when I traveled through my years, I took common decency for our fellow man and woman as my daily fashion.

  “Then, through divine luck partnering with perseverance, a world of opportunity opened for me. While it was all coming together, my mind began to search for reasons why all my countrymen could not enjoy the same chances. Later, in my university years, I met a man who shared the same questions named Duncan Malloy. Two horses pull a carriage better than one. So it was with us.

  “One would surely have thought by this stage in history man would have evolved into something more worthy of salvation. Daily we witness how woe greets anyone who tries to better the lot of their fellow man for sake of mutual progress. Those few with the most privilege gorge upon the fattening excess of profit from misery. They would rather throw up the tasty meat of their day as opposed to letting a fellow man dine one night at a bountiful table!

  “Do they understand we do not want to take their banquet? That we would suffice with the opportunity to feed some progress of our visions with just a portion of leftovers from an occasional feast? That we need only enough crumbs to fill the hollow in our stomachs and tide over our hope, giving fellow countrymen some sustenance to carry through?

  “All are gathered here because we are brothers, sisters and dare I say patriots in the struggle for this land our ancestors toiled for centuries. To those that oppose progress, basic rights for fellow citizens and equal access to education, I have these words. Coimhead fearg fhear na foighde! Beware the anger of a patient man!”

  Instantly, a wave of cheers erupted around the quadrangle, echoing approval against the ceiling of grey sky above. People were abuzz with queries and accolades. His oratorical skills had no equal save Duncan Malloy’s, though his impassioned eloquence held no rival.

  As a result, many wondered aloud the same question. Could the chance for change in a land ravaged by oppression be given a reprieve through these men? Still
others pressed on about the chances of fate, as in why this child washed ashore in Ireland? With the air saturated in enthusiastic support for his oratory, Peter carried forth with purposeful intent.

  “Our cause of the Common Man Movement is growing because words carry only so far. Actions attain goals, and every day our supporters in a number of counties have their sleeves rolled up in daily efforts.

  “We collect funds for those most in need because of delinquent tenancies. In some cases, enough monies to purchase vacant land outright. We put community efforts together which pool resources to feed each other, as the strength of one comes from many. But there is much more that could be accomplished!

  “Unfortunately, our efforts are insignificant compared to the indifference from an overseas government. This is why the Common Man Movement desires a home parliament of the people, elected by all its citizens. It is our only hope to solve these symptoms of rot which scab the flesh of Ireland today. For if the current regime runs its course, tens of thousands more will emigrate, starve, or become destitute.

  “There is an alternative to tasting the bitter poison of oppression daily till it chokes all will. The remedy is as simple as volunteering time to our cause. Participate in organized action to create change in your community. Witness what happens when communities coordinate efforts. Learn how these actions are strengthened across county boundaries in unified appeal.

  “No more does life have to hold a future of misery, but I leave no rosy visions. For when power is held, those that hold it will not let a firm grasp go weak! Though also understand small steps can go large distances, as individual efforts combined create a mighty force for positive change.

  “Be confident in knowing days are fast approaching when justice sought will be justice gained. In the future, young boys and girls, men and women will say “I heard Duncan Malloy’s words” or “my grandparents heard Peter Harvey speak”. I know in my dearest heart we will have a Republic. All of you gathered here deserve no less and shall have no less!

  “To answer our call for support means no one’s toil for a better tomorrow shall be lost. No life which perished in basic survival on our ancient land was lived in vain struggle. For every payment to see equal opportunity has already been fully deposited in the ledger of accounts.

  “So when our time comes, we shall gather at the cage of the justice bank to receive that which we all so dearly paid in. Good education for our children. Ways to care for our sick and infirm. And ensuring not another Irish person is starved to the sea for survival in a faraway land! Whether we bond in merry celebration today or the next, that day is coming or I am not Peter Harvey!”

  The swelling pride of this assemblage exploded in an orgy of affirmation. Sweet tears rushed the puffed cheeks of young and old alike. This was truly their moment to commemorate a man who believed in them, and they no less in return. After a brief moment, Peter raised his left hand to halt the throng’s applause. When the din decreased, he continued his oratorical finery.

  “We demand to participate in a government based in the same land where we earned our keep. On the same soil that our father’s fathers tilled with furrowed brow and watered in labored sweat. Soil for toil and a hand in our land is what we want. That is what we desire. That is what we deserve!

  “Too many are fleeing our ancestors’ land in coffin ships bound for foreign domains around the globe. Yet the privileged and their overseers stay to grow more sufficient. Under the Lord I studied at my struggling ma’s knees, this is neither fair deed nor justice done! We must unite to obtain our collective freedom for all citizens whom inhabit our beloved land.

  “I could speak at length about the reasons I believe in the nobility of our cause. But it would serve no purpose to preach the obvious. So in closing, let me state my convictions in the clearest manner I can muster.

  “Lest anyone harbors even the smallest of doubt concerning motives, our cause for equality is just. We seek no advantage or distinction in our aims. I will not hear of another family driven by abject poverty fleeing these green fields. Not this land where for generations their forefathers tilled soil and moved rocks. We are not a land that should be exporting our families, our children, nay our future because certain people want an unholy claim on all. Whether we arrived here by boat or by birth, we are all Irish and all equal!”

  Peter’s moving words sparked a tide of thunderous applause. It did not stop there. During their first public appearance in Greenhill, Peter had penned a rally song to be used at the conclusion of each event. It proved so popular a tradition it carried on for every engagement thereafter. Through word of mouth, the tune became known wherever they spoke. Cork’s audience was no exception.

  Caught in a spirit of high emotion, the impassioned crowd broke into a rousing rendition of the lyrics penned by their beloved orator Peter Harvey. The quadrangle now resounded with that noted song, “Leave My Country Once More”.

  “Well it’s not for me that I leave this country

  The land has told me so

  When the field so green and a heart so keen

  Has lost its love for me

  “When I leave this shore I will wonder no more

  If my family has to eat

  Cause she gave me life and a dear young wife

  And now she takes my spoil

  “Yet I rise again to defend her claim

  For I’m no slave to keep this loss

  And when again I can touch this land

  I will come to shore once more

  “So gather quickly and beat this trick

  That says my land is lost

  While crooked men in deeds pretend

  My old country I will restore!

  Peter and Samuel sang along with the audience in unbridled enthusiasm. Duncan wept tears of joy as he carried these words in fevered pitch. One would be thick not to notice the groundswell this movement for self-government was steadily gaining.

  These two charismatic faces of change were launching a successful appeal to the very hearts of Irish citizenry. The desperate, the deprived, the evicted and the starving could share allegiance with the reformist landholder and middle classes. As the movement grew, people discovered the problem was not each other, but a system which ignored imbalance.

  Most of the assembled were in wondrous marvel of their brilliant orator and his heartfelt commitment. His rousing words were not petty phrases of servitude for pomp and circumstance. Rather, these were the emotive and practical lessons learned from a life more challenged than any could realize, yet overcome. For that, each was grateful that this brown beacon of promise shed light on the miserable theater of their daily lives.

  This engagement in Cork exceeded even the high hopes of Samuel McGee. He deemed it worth every minute of travel from County Mayo to see such a spectacle firsthand. In his heart of hearts he knew their Common Man Movement was now a legitimate force in the battle for self-government. Though Samuel never lost sight of the fact much work remained to be accomplished.

  Despite the pure merits of their cause, not all were equally enamored with Peter Harvey. In a recessed section of the throng, two men stood with deep scowls etching their hardened faces. They held a deep distaste for the man from Kilmarnie. While the audience reveled in excitement over the occasion, one espoused deep venom to his fellow attendee.

  “The whole thing makes me ill! Look around you here. See all these fools caught up in the nonsense of this dark bastard! I share nothing in common with his like. There will be no changes in this country, because those holding the kitty don’t want to share. When will they get it through their thick, malnourished skulls? They will pay in blood for their sedition.

  “Do they forget 1798? Or what happened in 1848? More will come and be sacrificed to the ravenous lion across the Irish Sea. The lion will always defend its interests, regardless of costs.”

  His fellow companion
nodded in silent agreement. “Just remember; the crowd gathered here does not have the smarts you have. That is why you’re a survivor. And may I say you’re doing a good job indeed. By the way, you don’t have to worry about your rent while you keep doing work that matters to us. Everything continues on like we previously agreed.”

  The first man smirked upon hearing this reply. “You call what I’m doing work? Someone has to keep those types in check; else they overrun the country like vermin. I also say to hell with his soft minders like McGee and his stewards!”

  He then pointed a discrete finger towards Peter Harvey. “That is not worth the starvation of my family. Yes sir, I looked in a mirror many a time in my long life. And he does not seem to be like me! There will be a heavy price to pay for this uprising, and I aim to be on the side of the collector.”

  Unbeknown to his accomplice, the first man’s hate came from a revenge he sought on a perceived transgression years ago. His unnatural focus upon these two speakers was not born only from their cause. No, it went beyond the words of these elegant orators. Regardless, it was of no consequence to his minder. All they cared about were results.

  “Very well, I shall make my report on today’s activities and hand it to my superior when I arrive in Dublin,” spoke the first man’s minder. “I trust you will keep our arrangement discrete. I know of more than a few men who would take your place in these dastardly times.”

  The first man did not take well to veiled threats. Yet his companion did have the upper hand, and would play it at every advantage.

  “Understood, and have a safe journey back to Dublin.”

  By the time he made this response, his companion had already started walking away. On stage, as was customary, the trio greeted new volunteers for their movement. Much time would be needed to disseminate all necessary information to such a large party of interest. No matter, as it was an ideal dilemma under these circumstances.

  Later, Duncan, Peter and Samuel spoke with their colleagues about the event. Standing beside the stage, they detailed future courses of action, based upon issues voiced from their concerned audience. Then, amongst a few lingering attendees, a well-dressed young man approached Duncan.