For centuries the boot heel of the oppressive tyrant was pressed tightly to the throat of the common Irishman, strangling the last gasp of freedom within the hearts of the people of Ireland. Whether slashed by the conquering sword of Oliver Cromwell or crushed beneath the weight of unjust Penal laws enacted by a foreign legislature, the resolute Irish prayed that someday Ireland would be a free and independent nation. Many brave leaders had rebelled against the injustices in the past but all had failed and fallen short; Robert Emmet and his United Irishmen, Daniel O’Connell and the Young Ireland movement, and James Stephens and his Fenians to name but a few. In their frustration, the Irish called out to the Lord in prayer. When will we know peace, oh Lord? When will you send us the means by which Ireland will, once and for all, be free and independent? Finally, at long last, their heartfelt prayers were answered with the birth of a poor farm boy from Sam’s Cross, County Cork, named Michael Collins.
Born to an obscure farming family in West Cork, Michael Collins’ youth would be enriched with Celtic myths, legends, folktales, and all other traditions essential to the healthy, imaginative mind of an Irish boy. His proud young head, never taught to bow to his tormentors, was filled with a rich tapestry of mythological Celtic heroes who selflessly fought for a cause, lost or otherwise, simply because of the righteousness of that cause, no matter the ultimate cost to themselves.
In the end, Ireland would once again call upon one of her finest to step forward, shoulder the burden, and give all that was asked of him to repel the foreign oppressors and pave the way for a free Ireland. The stormy tempest for Irish freedom would come to center on this rash, impetuous young rebel who knew no fear. He did not hesitate for a moment when called upon to give his all for Ireland, following the creed of the greatest of Erin’s Celtic warriors, the mighty Cuchulain who boasted, “I care not if my life have only the span of a single night and day if my deeds be spoken of by the men of Ireland.”
Born to an obscure farming family in West Cork, Michael Collins’ youth would be enriched with Celtic myths, legends, folktales, and all other traditions essential to the healthy, imaginative mind of an Irish boy. His proud young head, never taught to bow to his tormentors, was filled with a rich tapestry of mythological Celtic heroes who selflessly fought for a cause, lost or otherwise, simply because of the righteousness of that cause, no matter the ultimate cost to themselves.
In the end, Ireland would once again call upon one of her finest to step forward, shoulder the burden, and give all that was asked of him to repel the foreign oppressors and pave the way for a free Ireland. The stormy tempest for Irish freedom would come to center on this rash, impetuous young rebel who knew no fear. He did not hesitate for a moment when called upon to give his all for Ireland, following the creed of the greatest of Erin’s Celtic warriors, the mighty Cuchulain who boasted, “I care not if my life have only the span of a single night and day if my deeds be spoken of by the men of Ireland.”
