“Of course. I speak only the truth when I say, Mr. Butt, that yours, and the President’s, is a most grave and important labor,” Lincoln said as he took the Vice-President’s hand. “I do marvel every day at the glowing reports I read of your unifying and modernization of Ireland.”
“It has been a mighty task indeed — but well worth every effort,” Rossa said. His expression darkened as he went on. “A task that has been made far more difficult by the continuing harassment by the enemy from the outside. Goodness knows that I, and the people of Ireland, have enough black memories. Our history has indeed been a long and dark one ever since the day when English troops first set foot in our poor country. Now, I am most sure that I speak for every man in the country when I say let bygones be bygones. Enough of painful memories and ancient crimes. We Irish tend to live too much in the past, and it is high time that we were done with that practice. The past is done with and shall not return. We must turn our backs on it and instead turn our faces toward the glowing sun of the future—”
“But they will not let us!” Isaac Butt broke in, cracking his knuckles resoundingly, so carried away was he by the strength of his emotions. “The recent raid on Kingstown was but a pinprick among our greater sorrows. Every day — every hour — sees its like. There are constant landings in remote Irish seaports, where innocent Irishmen are killed and their small craft, their only possessions, burned. Ships are stopped at sea as well, stopped and searched, and many times they have their cargo confiscated. It is as though we have a demon on our backs that cannot be removed, a curse from hell that cannot be lifted. The war was well won — yet it will not end. The British are indeed our demon possessor!”