An oddity among books came to hand recently. It is In Emmet's Day, a novel or long shortstory, just under a hundred pages. Unusual, it was only originally published in Germany, written by Heinrich Federer and the title was Patria, issued by Messers Herder and Co, Freiburg im Breisgau. The book was published in translation here by M.H. Gill and Son of 50 Upper O'Connell Street, Dublin. No date for either edition. Opening sentences: "Do you still play the guitar, Moore" and the response "Do you still beat the drum?" Banter in the house of John Philpot Curran, with Mrs Curran smiling "partly amused, partly sad as she watched these two young friends of the family, Thomas and Robert, in the coats worn by the students of Trinity College, fussing around her daughter, for whose affection they were rivals."
But there was more than banter. There was stiff argument when Emmet says "Our country has need of swords, not Rosary beads or Quakers' psalms." Emmet gets rough with Moore, and after a struggle, Moore says angrily: "You needn't think that Ireland belongs to you and that only you have a right to love her." Moore sings, and after it is done, Emmet - a wilful, hard character in this book - admits that a song such as Moore has just sung "is worth two hundred guns". Students belonging to the Oak Boys Society meet at a secret room near Tinker's Lane. They have a visitor, Daniel O'Connell who tells the students (he is several years older than them) that he has opened a lawyer's office in London, to serve Ireland and he will, day in day out, make her cause known. "Let each man fight in his own way," says Emmet coolly. Secretiveness is no good, O'Connell tells the young man. "We Catholics do not want revolution, we want to fight with weapons of the law, of knowledge of the mighty press . . . we shall give the enemy no rest . . . But we are liberators, not conspirators." Uproar.
The book moves on to Emmet's execution after the abortive rising. Emmet throughout is a man of steel and resolution. Even at his execution. As to Sarah: "neither handsome spouse, nor affectionate care, not even a sojourn by the everblue Gulf of Naples could heal her sorrow and before many years had passed she followed him the word Patria on her lips . . ." The author looks forward to the day when the Irish people can live "in the full enjoyment of liberty".