All it [
the Flight of the Earls] did was to leave the people to stumble around for several centuries before they got it together sufficiently to start shoe horning the British out of Ireland.
After many years I went back to Cork City like a tourist, in the 70s, and wandered down to where the fishboats were lined up along a quay. A good sized boat was being readied to go out, and 4 or 5 young fellows were on it doing this or that. They were busy, aware of each other, but ignoring all passers by. They used a number of Gaelic phrases though they spoke English. Their’s was a closed society, as it seemed.They would turn away and be silent as defence.
Months later, back on the West Coast of Canada I was up at Alert Bay, an Indian fishing town on a small island. There was a good sized boat lined up with others, and a few young Indian fellows were working on it, getting ready to go out. They spoke English, but they were also closed to what was outside of their own society, and quite shy in their manner. Even their speech was flat, showing nothin.
It was like an arrow to the heart: it was the same thing I had seen in Ireland that I was seeing at Alert Bay. It would take a great long spiel to work it out, but I was seeing a population that had been interrupted. Only confident among their own; unable or unwilling to walk up to the stranger and just take possession of their own place. They too had been robbed of their history. They too would need a long while to get back on their feet, just to walk out and around the place.
The English were criminals; the Earls were worse.