Ireland. A history. Part II. Иностранный язык. Фомина И.В. - 12 стр.

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been given the vote in 1793, the rebellion had shown that Ireland was still
composed of two very separate communities. One of those the Protestant after the
fight it received in 1798, began to think less in terms of a Protestant nation and
more in terms of a simple Irish ascendancy class which sought protection for its
interests in political identification with co-religionists on the English side of the Irish
Sea. It is true that the Act of Union of 1800, which abolished the Irish Parliament and
on 1 January 1801 united the two kingdoms of England and Ireland for ever, was
opposed at the time by many of the old Protestant patriots on Irish patriotic grounds.
It is also true that the Catholics, on the whole, favoured it on the grounds that union
with a more tolerant Protestant majority, the English, would afford better protection
for their interests than they were likely to get from their own Protestant minority
ascendancy. But it was self-interest on each side which determined the attitudes of
both; and with the firm establishment of the Union, while this in turn conditioned
Catholics gradually to see the repeal of that Union as the best opportunity for
advancing their interests.
Modern Irish nationalism, which had been invented by Irish Protestants, thus came
to be adopted by Irish Catholics as their own. Protestants as individuals, though not
as a class, were often to support them, either as well-wishing sympathizers or,
particularly in the first half of the nineteenth century, in the genuinely idealistic belief
that the two nations could still achieve a common Irish patriotism. This latter concept
was indeed always to remain the official policy of the new nationalist movement. But
for all that, it was to degenerate into a Catholic cause with Protestant sympathizers
which is why Pope John Paul II was so effortlessly able to identify Irishness with
Catholicism when he visited Ireland in 1979.
The man who was to lead Catholics to their first awareness of their modern
political power had been ahead of his co religionists in untypically opposing the
Union from the start. He was a lawyer whose name was Daniel OConnell. But
before he could begin to be active on the political scene there was a short postscript
to the rebellion of 1798 which must be mentioned because, for all its near-farcical
character, its myth-making qualities were to be even more pervasive in Irish history
than those of 1798 itself. This was the rebellion of Robert Emmet in Dublin in 1803.
In fact it turned out to be a street riot rather than a rebellion, though Emmet, an
attractive figure who had been a United Irishman, was inspired by all hi former
colleagues high ideas. Indeed it was his desire to assert those ideas in face of the
ignominy of his failure that led him to make his most important contribution to the
future: his speech from the dock before execution.
His plan had been ambitious: to seize Dublin Castle as a signal to the rest of the
country to rise in arms. A proclamation of the Irish Republic had been printed;
contacts were arranged with a band of outlaws who had been hiding out in the
Wicklow Hills ever since 1798. But the only part of the plan that really worked was
the printing of the Proclamation of the Republic which was coming wet off the
presses as the military arrived to seize it.
In the end, where Emmet had hoped to assemble 2,000 men to attack the Castle he
mustered only eighty, and these, armed with pikes and blunderbusses, set forth into
the night of Saturday, 23 July 1803, headed by Emmet himself carrying a drawn
                                            12
been given the vote in 1793, the rebellion had shown that Ireland was still
composed of two very separate communities. One of those – the Protestant – after the
fight it received in 1798, began to think less in terms of a Protestant ‘nation’ and
more in terms of a simple Irish ascendancy class which sought protection for its
interests in political identification with co-religionists on the English side of the Irish
Sea. It is true that the Act of Union of 1800, which abolished the Irish Parliament and
on 1 January 1801 united the two kingdoms of England and Ireland ‘for ever’, was
opposed at the time by many of the old Protestant patriots on Irish patriotic grounds.
It is also true that the Catholics, on the whole, favoured it on the grounds that union
with a more tolerant Protestant majority, the English, would afford better protection
for their interests than they were likely to get from their own Protestant minority
ascendancy. But it was self-interest on each side which determined the attitudes of
both; and with the firm establishment of the Union, while this in turn conditioned
Catholics gradually to see the repeal of that Union as the best opportunity for
advancing their interests.
    Modern Irish nationalism, which had been invented by Irish Protestants, thus came
to be adopted by Irish Catholics as their own. Protestants as individuals, though not
as a class, were often to support them, either as well-wishing sympathizers or,
particularly in the first half of the nineteenth century, in the genuinely idealistic belief
that the two nations could still achieve a common Irish patriotism. This latter concept
was indeed always to remain the official policy of the new nationalist movement. But
for all that, it was to degenerate into a Catholic cause with Protestant sympathizers –
which is why Pope John Paul II was so effortlessly able to identify Irishness with
Catholicism when he visited Ireland in 1979.
    The man who was to lead Catholics to their first awareness of their modern
political power had been ahead of his co religionists in untypically opposing the
Union from the start. He was a lawyer whose name was Daniel O’Connell. But
before he could begin to be active on the political scene there was a short postscript
to the rebellion of 1798 which must be mentioned because, for all its near-farcical
character, its myth-making qualities were to be even more pervasive in Irish history
than those of 1798 itself. This was the rebellion of Robert Emmet in Dublin in 1803.
    In fact it turned out to be a street riot rather than a rebellion, though Emmet, an
attractive figure who had been a United Irishman, was inspired by all hi former
colleagues’ high ideas. Indeed it was his desire to assert those ideas in face of the
ignominy of his failure that led him to make his most important contribution to the
future: his speech from the dock before execution.
    His plan had been ambitious: to seize Dublin Castle as a signal to the rest of the
country to rise in arms. A proclamation of ‘the Irish Republic’ had been printed;
contacts were arranged with a band of outlaws who had been hiding out in the
Wicklow Hills ever since 1798. But the only part of the plan that really worked was
the printing of the Proclamation of the Republic which was coming wet off the
presses as the military arrived to seize it.
    In the end, where Emmet had hoped to assemble 2,000 men to attack the Castle he
mustered only eighty, and these, armed with pikes and blunderbusses, set forth into
the night of Saturday, 23 July 1803, headed by Emmet himself carrying a drawn