Be afraid. Be very afraid. Of Ireland.

by Instant Noodle

NERVOUS we are not, nor ever needlessly alarmists. But we are living a doomed life, and so are all our English readers. There is no mistake this time about the fate which is awaiting us. We have long feared an invasion, and our fears will soon be realised. The foe is close at hand. Tremble, Britons, at his coming! Shake, Saxons, in your shoes ; for surely you must quake when you list to what the Dundalk Democrat has said of him :

” He knows all our weak points ; and our opinion is, that he would lose no time going round to land in Connaught or  Bantry Bay, but would dash boldly on the capital, and seize the Castle, and all the arsenals in Dublin. Ho would we fear strike at once at the heart of our power, and scatter us like chaff before the wind before we could organise our forces.  Among the Young Ireland party there was no one but he capable of leading an army of liberation. He was a man of iron  will and indomitable courage. We believe he possessed that boldness and energy which would inspire his followers to rival the soldiers of any other nation in deeds of heroism. He is a man to decide quickly, and to carry out his purpose with an unerring judgement and a vigorous arm. He would have the men of all districts either stand with him or against him, and would deal roughly with all who should desire neutral ground. Such a man as this would prove a formidable foe to English power in Ireland; and, although he might run some risks, it is certain that he would not be so easily caught as WOLFE TONE. If his visit to Eurupe be to aid the invasion which the English seem to expect, he will have no mercy for JOHN BULL and will more than rival GARIBALDI in his furious onsets against the Great Britons.”


And who, it may be asked, is this “formidable foe ?” Who is this indomitable, iron-willed invader, who “knows all our weak points,” and is to “scatter us like chaff?” The Dundalk Democrat does not conceal his name. JOHN MITCHEL is his name: merciless JOHN MITCHEL; maniacal JOHN MITCHEL. MITCHEL, he of vitriolic and of vicious memory. Transported he  was once, and now returns for vengeance on the sanguinary Saxon. “Some risks he may run,” but once caught makes twice shy. You may catch a WOLFE asleep, perhaps; MITCHEL is a weasel that you won’t again nab napping. As GARIBALDI to the Austrians, so JOHN MITCHEL to the English, he has armed him for the light. See, his lion’s skin hangs round him; and his voice sounds forth the war-cry of Young Ireland, “Erin, go Bray!”

Do I detect the subtlest hint of sarcasm?

(10th of September 1859)