During An Gorta Mor (the Great Famine), at least eight ships per day left Ireland for England, laden with grain and meat; yet more than one million people starved for lack of good potatoes.  This lack of feeling for the Irish had history; 120 years before the Famine, Irish tenant farmers struggled to pay rent on land their grandfathers had owned. In 1729, frustrated with English apathy toward Irish poverty and starvation, Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick�s Cathedral (the Protestant cathedral in Dublin), wrote �A Modest Proposal,� a satirical essay that proposed raising and marketing Irish children as a delicacy for Anglo-Irish landlords� tables: 

                              I grant this food will be somewhat dear, and therefore
                              very proper for landlords, who, as they have already
                              devoured most of the parents, seem to have the best
                              title to the children�The poorer tenants will have
                              something valuable of their own, which by law may
                              be made liable to distress and help to pay their
                              landlord's rent, their corn and cattle being already
                             seized, and money a thing unknown� this kind of
                             commodity will not bear exportation, and flesh being
                             of too tender a consistence, to admit a long continuance
                             in salt, although perhaps I could name a country, which
                             would be glad to eat up our whole nation without it. (Tallmo 1)

      Irish folk tales take their share of digs at landlords in particular:  ��A sad story, indeed,� said the stranger; �but surely, if you represented the case to your landlord�s agent, he won�t have the heart to turn you out.�  �Hear, your honour; where would an agent get a heart!� exclaimed Bill� (Croker 204).  The stranger in this tale turns out to be the legendary O�Donoghue, who revisits his domains every May Day at sunrise and confers blessings on the lucky few who encounter him.  From him, Bill receives the money necessary to pay his rent:  �Bill proceeded to the agent�s�bold and upright, like a man conscious of his independence�  (Croker 205).  Characteristic Irish boldness presents itself when Bill faces the agent:  ��Why don�t you take off your hat, fellow?  Don�t you know you are speaking to a magistrate?� said the agent.  �I know I�m not speaking to the king, sir,� said Bill; �and I never takes off my hat but to them I can respect and love.  The Eye that sees all knows I�ve no right either to respect or love an agent!��  (Croker 205).
     Irish confidence in the ability to stand up to anyone is evident in the story by William Carleton about a man who, with his wife, torments the devil so badly that he is denied entrance into hell when he dies.

                                   In this state, with his nose twisted up the chimney,
                                   Satan sat for some time, experiencing the novelty of
                                   what might be termed a peculiar sensation.  At last
                                   the worthy husband and wife began to relent.  �I think,�
                                   said Bill, �that we have made the most of the nose, as
                                   well as the joke; I believe, Judy, it�s long enough.�
                                   �What is?� says Judy.  �Why, the joke,� said the husband.
                                   �Faith, and I think so is the nose,� said Judy.  (Carleton 255)

      As seen in the example above, humor is paramount in Irish literature; wit is the ultimate device implemented in storytelling.  The gamut of emotions is worn on the sleeves of Irish stories, songs, religion, and politics, but ironic wit has ever predominated.  G.K. Chesterton noted in �The Battle of the White Horse� that:
                                                    �the great Gaels of Ireland
                                                   Are the men that God made mad
                                                   For all their wars are merry
                                                  And all their songs are sad
                                                   (Bladey 1)

Irony is perhaps the natural expression of a country that �has outlived the failure of all her hopes-and yet she still hopes� (Casement 1). 
     The brilliance and variety of Ireland�s literature continues today, in an organic union of old and new creativity.  Old myths, fairy tales, and folklore have given way to tales of tenements, country farms, the Church, and the �troubles,� but the turning of phrases, irony, and whimsy are as present now as they ever were.  We are still laughing and crying with Frank O�Connor, Brendan Behan, and Seamus Heaney.  One small country�s determination to keep her culture has given the world an ideal example of the brilliance, strength, and depth that breathe in every culture, everywhere.

Works Cited

Bladey, Conrad Jay. Home Page: Quotes on Ireland. 2002.
<http://www.ncf.carleton.ca/~bj333/HomePage.home/quotes.html>

Casement, Sir Roger. �Prisoner�s Speech.� MacAnnaidh 242.

Croker, T. Crofton. �The Brewery of Eggshells.� Yeats 48-50.
---.  �The Priest�s Supper.� Yeats 9-13.
---. �Rent-Day.� Yeats 203-206.

Curtin, Jeremiah. Myths and Folk Tales of Ireland.  1890. Unabridged republication.
New York: Dover, 1975.

Mac Annaidh, S�amas. Irish History. Bath: Parragon, 2002.

Tallmo, Karl-Erik. The Art Bin. 2003. <http://art-bin.com/art/omodest.html

Wilde, Lady Jane Francesca. �Changelings.� Yeats 47.

Yeats, William Butler, ed. Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry. 1888. Republished
in A Treasury of Irish Myth, Legend, and Folklore, ed. by Claire Booss. New York: Random, 1986.
---. �The Stolen Child.� Yeats 59-60.
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