If of the aristocracy, tell to those whose halls you adorn, that the peasant woman of Ireland can only obtain warmth enough to save her from perishing, and give her sleep, by herding with her pig! Say, Woman sleeps thus! and ask, should it be? Mayhap when Woman in her loveliness and power thus pleads for Woman in her misery and poverty, the chord may be struck which will proclaim the sin, and produce its abolishment.
If the mansion of the wealthy be guided or blessed by thy residence, proclaim the fearful fact, and whispering ask, "For what does God give wealth?" The answer may not come at first, or for a time; but whisper again—and 'tis said that angels' whispers fill the air with charity and love. So, perhaps, will thine—and wealth may at thy bidding aid to rescue Woman from such degradation.
If the middle class (from which England's greatness springs), claims thee as its own, tell to all around the truth which tells of Britain's shame—that the Irishwoman is forced to herd with cattle! Plead, and say—Am I not a woman, and is she not my sister? And by degrees thy pleadings will strike man's heart, for the thought will come upon him—"Oh! that one I love should fall to such a lot," and his voice will join thine in truthfulness and charity, to win others to the task of rooting out the evil.
If thou art poor, I need not plead. The poor feel for the poor, and spare even somewhat from their poverty. Their hearts can tell the pangs of poverty, and pity fills them with love and charity and regret that poverty makes them powerless. But still thou hast a voice. Raise it, and cry shame on those who may, yet will not save the nation from the stain of this deep indignity to woman!
And how, you may ask, is this to be done? Most simply. Ireland possesses wealth in soil—in fuel—in minerals—in fisheries—in water-power—in short, in all things fitted to be developed by the great and wonderful business capability, knowledge, and capital of England; but the latter has feared without just reason—has been acted upon by groundless prejudices and dreads, so as to prevent that business intercourse and mercantile enterprise, for which Ireland offers such beneficial opening; and she has been left to herself, to anarchy, misrule, and neglect, until she has sunk into pauperism. In a word, let England but embark a just portion of her enterprise and capital, and talent in Ireland, in place of seeking for opportunity to do so abroad. In doing this, she will employ the people in useful occupations highly profitable, and in proportion as such be done will Ireland's poverty vanish, and Great Britain's wealth increase. Ask for this;—and that the peasant labourer shall be paid in money, not potatoes. And if you ask from your heart, you will succeed.
Then, fair pleaders for my countrywomen!—then your labours may cease—for even those who possess your affections do not, nor cannot, value them more highly; nor those who hold you in their hearts do not love more truly, than the peasant of Ireland. Your labours may cease—for it will then be his labour of love to guard and protect his own from insult and indignity. And as you rest after your glorious victory, your pillow mayhap will not even crease by the pressure of the fair cheek upon it, so light and so sweet will be the sleep to follow so kind and good a work.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Short tobacco-pipe.
[2] See Comparative Statement of the Crimes of England and Ireland, in "The Appeal for the Irish Peasantry."