 | The Tricolour |  |
I
About this time there was let loose a great tumult in the city. Fire and battle held Dublin for about a week, and then from out of it all, above the crash of falling houses and the roar of guns, over the crackling flames rose the tricolour, and for a few mad days it shone into the hearts of the people.
And then a wounded prisoner of war, by the name of James Connolly, was slain, and so was disbanded the wonderful Citizen Army which had arisen from the awful conditions of bad housing and miserable wages so prevalent in Ireland.
So Labour was shot down because it dared to be discontented with its fortunes.
At the same time Pearse, the idealist, surrendered to superior forces to save his countrymen.
And Idealism was shot down because it dared to dream greater dreams than were allowed to small nationalities.
On Easter Monday Sheehy-Skeffington, the pacifist, was murdered secretly and without trial.
Thus Peace was shot down by a lunatic, because it got in the way of militarism.
So the bright flag fell from the high place where it had floated free. Yet what a tricolour were these three—Labour, Idealism, and Pacifism—how proudly it flew, so distinct in its colours, so perfect in its union, preaching its lesson for Easter to the people! At Easter, the time of Resurrection, not of Death. Yet out of Death comes Resurrection. Who will take it upon himself to crucify Labour, since Christ was the Son of a carpenter; Idealism, for Christ was an idealist; Peace, for did not Christ our Lord say “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God”?
| The Tricolour | |