186 STRAY-AWAYS 



and developed into that over-blown blossom of 

 English humour, the stage Irishman. Thackeray 

 knew something of the matter, yet Captain Macmorris 

 and Captain Costigan are brothers in more than arms ; 

 Mr. Kipling understands much, but Private Mulvaney 

 is of their company. They may bluster, weep, 

 rollick, and make love ; like " Mr. Dooley " of Chioago, 

 their argument may be excellent, the interest of their 

 stories indisputable; it is of no avail, their speech 

 bewrayeth them, they are of the far-flung family of 

 the Stage Irish. But, as a very young English curate 

 said, addressing a large London congregation, " Dear 

 people, we must not be too hard on the Apostles ! " 

 In the last five -and -twenty years Irish writers have 

 begun to realise that the waters of Jordan at their 

 feet are more potent, even more fashionable, than 

 those of Abana and Pharpar; so fully aware, indeed, 

 are they of their racial privileges that they have 

 already succeeded in making Ireland self-conscious. 

 She now insists on being taken seriously, and will no 

 more pose as the Agreeable Rattle. Her precious 

 gifts of humour and of laughter are in danger of 

 extinction, gloomed over monotonously as they are 

 by clouds laden with artistic tears. Ireland is to be 

 treated as an invalid, and must be approached with 

 the hushed step of the sick-room. We maintain that 

 Ireland is not, and never can be, monotonous ; she 

 varies as inveterately as the flicker of shadow and 

 sunlight in the leaves of spring; and literature that 

 shuts out the sunlight is incomplete. Lady Gregory, 

 and a few others in whom is the root of the matter, 

 have understood how to use both, and know how to 

 weave together the gold and grey. There was a 

 countrywoman, quite innocent of literary tendencies, 

 who got tidings that her son was ill in hospital. " Oh, 

 God ! " she said, " there was a wing in my heart till I 



