THE WAR IN IRELAND

Hokitika Guardian, 5 February 1921, Page 4

THE WAR IN IRELAND

NOTES FROM A WOMAN’S DIARY

(By Ivy Sanders.) I. DUBLIN, Nov. 14

Before leaving London last week I determined to set aside all my preconceived ideas of Ireland and the Irish, as gleaned from Thackeray and Lever, plays, films, Sir Horace Plunkett, and “The Times” newspaper.

I have never been to Ireland before, and I know just as much, or as little, about it as the average woman journalist.

Even as the train glided out of Euston Station I received my first introduction to the perplexing and entertaining exaggeration which I have since found to be characteristic of some kinds of Irish folk.

As we stood in the corridor a iellowpassenger, with what l have since learned to know as the Cork brogue, told me there were “ tousands and tousands of sildiers in the train ” ! There was a sprinkling, it is true—about the same number as you will find at Victoria Station, still returning, for some mysterious reason, to what the French call the British Army of Occupation in France. At Holyhead 1 felt the first influence of the bitter war that is being waged in Ireland to-day, and all of us were searched for arms before going aboard the mail boat. A few suspects were detained. Tlie lioat was crowded to excess and every cabin had been booked days ahead. Every available inch of floor space in the saloon and elsewhere was occupied by weary travellers and their luggage. And what luggage ! I have never before seen so many brown-paper parcels! No matter how much, or how little, baggage the passengers had, nearly every one of them was carrying the clumsily tied brown-paper parcel which appears to*be a necessary accompaniment of the travelling Irish. In crowded discomfort we reached the harbohr of Kingstown (or Dunluoghaire, as it is called by the Sinn Feiners. Many streets and some towns have two names, the old Irish name and a name given by the Englishr.v).

My first anxious peep at Ireland saw the breaking of a beautiful streak of bright dawn through heavy clouds. I prayed that that ray of light might he symbolical of brighter days for this chaotic country.

It was a little like landing at Boulogne in the war days. The quay was guarded by “ Tommies ” in familiar khaki and wearing their tin hats. Unfamiliar figures moved about in the dim dawn. Well-fed priests, some British recruits for that strange hut eflective force the “ Black and Tans,” women with shawls ovCr their heads come tfl meet returning friends, a well-known smart dame with a footman and French maid, a couple of young men who had come over to Ireland to play golf and shoot —a quaint mixture. Here and there were keen-looking English and Scots officers. I do not know what proportion of Scottish troops is in Ireland, hut it must he large.' The Scots accent is often heard. The Scots seem more more bitter against the Irish than are the English.

In about'twenty minutes by rail we reached Dublin. Noise, muddle, and shabbiness were my first impression of an Irish railway station. There was a long string of outside cars, witli voluble drivers. Still the national and inconvenient public conveyance, the car looks like a London butcher’s cart turned sideway-;. Excellent for sight-seeing, but somewhat chilly in the early hours of the morning and with no protection against

ram. I have never seen Dublin in peace time, but my first impression is that it is very like London after an air raid. Sackville street (or O’Connell street, as it is now more generally called) is the regent street of Dublin, and still bears tragic evidence of the 1916 rebellion. Some of the wrecked premises are being replaced by fine new buildings. The General Post Office, which must have been a stately edifice, is a mass of burnt ruins partly covered with the gay recruiting posters of the Royal Air Force. During the day 1 found that there were the same conflicting rumours of outrage, the same stories of spies and suspicion that we had in the early days of the war. But London was never subject to the the constant rush of armoured cars and lorries full of armed men as are the streets of Dublin. Most of the public buildings are guarded by armed sentries, and there is much barbed wire about. During the day I found that whole streets are “ held up ” by cordons of military and barricaded with barbed wire. All within the trap are then searched for arms or incriminating documents. It is gratifying to me as an Englishwoman to hear high commendation of the conduct of the military and police in performing these duties. Their civility and courtesy are acknowledged even by Sinn Fein. Residents tell me that life is becoming uncomfortable in Dublin. There is the curfew, when nobody may be out. There are raids made by both the military and police, and also by the Sinn Fein party upon hotels, private houses and public buildings. A night sister at one of the Dublin hospitals tells me that dead and wounded are continually being brought in from the streets. The sound of sniping is not unfamiliar. There are good shops in Dublin, full of good things. Food is plentiful, but expensive. There are more signs of drinking than in London. I notice many handsome youths and beautiful girls. The newspapers are full if stories of outrage and crime and are written in the characteristic note of exaggeration. Most are badly printed and untidily “made up”—the brown-paper parcel again! Yet with it all there is something attractive about Dublin. “ Deal' dirty Dublin ” it used to be called. Shabby, unpunctual, ill-garnished, with high rates, it is held up by the hard-headed northern people of Ulster as typical of what Ireland would become under Home Rule. It does not require many hours’ residence in Ireland to make one acquainted with two facts. One, that almost everybody gives you a different version of the state of affairs. Two, that the war in

Ireland is a religious war and little else. 11. BELFAST, Nov. 16. I like Belfast less than Dublin. Por-

haps I am more familiar with, and therefore not so interested in, the Belfast type of town. The Protestants here are practical and prosperous, with Scots and English looking faces and names, and are mightily proud of their achievements as manufacturers, especially in a country where all the coal has to be imported. When! told them I was going to stay with friends in Cork and Limerick they rejoiced and asked me to compare Roman Catholic with Protestant Ireland. They are oblivious to the effect of the Irish war on our relations with the United States, and even in France, where there are now some hundreds ol Roman Catholic deputies. I told them that when I was in the United States I never once heard the Ulster point of view put forward and that Americans, and even Canadians, always without exception were critical of English rule in Ireland. , That does not seem to disturb the Ulster people. They strike me as being more interested in themselves, their religion, and manufactures than in the welfare of the British Empire as a whole. Many are provocative, aggressive, and openly contemptuous of Catholic Ireland. A partner in a world-famous business

said to me: ‘“lf you English people will only leave us to deal with the Irish problem we will very soon settle Sinn Fein. AH our young men have had war experience. The Homan Catholics evaded the war and have had none. As a matter af Fact, they funked it. The mere sprinkling of ‘Black and Tans’ that we have now at our disposal has stamped out Sinn Fein in many places.” 1 have no doubt that Sinn Fein is being stamped out iy parts ol Ireland, but at a price—the price of bitterness. The Catholic Irish have long memories, as, indeed, have the Protestants. Cromwell is not a much discussed charactei in England nowadays, but I lieu id u great deal about him in Ireland. " The statement that the Catholic Irish did not light in the Great War as numerously as the Protestants is one that they greatly dislike, especially when a young man is asked about it by a comparatively young woman like myself. They almost invariably give the same answer regarding their objection to enlistment. They say that while the I iotestants were allowed to have their ministers, the British Government loihade the (Catholic regiments to have priests with them. This was the beginning of the. trouble about enlistment. As I heard this in every part of Ireland 1 visited it must be a genuine belief of the Irish.

In the train in which I arrived tit Belfast was a small body of armed soldiers guarding a prisoner. It is a typical Irish scene. The prisoner was a pathetic figure, an alleged Sinn Fein Spy. it handsome youth with burning eyes and pale, frightened face. Later, I chanced to meet the officer in charge of the party, a bright young Yorkshire lad, who had seen active service in nearly every theatre of the Great War and was now ‘•'stationed on the Irish front,” as he lightly expressed it. He gave mo some idea of the difficulties and dangers of the work of the military around this particular-district —a hotbed of Sinn Fein he called it. I have heard it said that the young Black and Tan an dother officers dislike the task in which they are engaged in Ireland. I find no evidence of it. It is a good deal less dangerous and much more exciting than trench warfare, they averred. Just now in Belfast I here appears to be more evidence of dissension than in Dublin. The religious question is responsible for a strange labour situation in the factories and shipyards. Protestants refuse to work with Roman Catholics and vice versa. Various sections of the town are in opposition to each other, and pitched battles often take place, the favourite weapon being the cobble stones from the streets, “Belfast confetti,” as they are called here. The young, male and female, seem to enjoy these tumults. This is the “Black North,” as the Southerners call it, and bitterness is intense on both sides. Cases of violence and crime are of startling frequency, and are accounted either to the loyalist military or the Sinn Fein troops according to the politics of the raconteur. But much of the looting of shops and houses is the work of criminal hooligans who take advantage of the situation.

Anonymous threatening letters and notices to quit Ireland or to leave a particular part of the country are everyday commonplaces, and the nephew of some friends of mine, acting magistrate in one of the outlying districts in King’s County, wrote yesterday telling me of a notice he had received from the Sinn Feiners instantly to relinquish his magistracy.

But Sinn Fein has good points. Protestant loyalists confessed that the Sinn Fein police are often able to recover stolen property when the real police are unable to do so. Lilterty of speech has disappeared in many parts of Ireland. I have proof of a case in which a railway passenger foolishly joined in an argument about religious matters and spoke against the i ( :i Roman Catholic priesthood. When lie returned home that evening he found six stalwart men waiting for him. They represented themselves as “represenetatives of the Republican Army,” and questioned him as to whether he was serious in his remarks of the morning. Being the father of a family and with other responsibilities, he -wisely decided that he was not. 111. CORK, Nov. 19, I have not yet been able to ascertain what Sinn Fein exactly means. Literally translated, it is, I believe, “Ourselves alone.” Actually it appears to signify “Against England.”

The Daily Mail is considered here as the organ of the “English assassins.” In the “Black North” it is unpopular as throwing its influence on the side of the Sinn'Feiners. In Dublin it appears to be tolerated. But everybody reads it. My occasional contributions rendered my name familiar, and 1 was regarded with suspicion and distrust, though never rudely treated. 1 was careful what I said. I was warned that any chance remarks opposed to Sinn Fein policy might result in orders to leave the country at a few .hours’ notice, and both sides seem to give this kind of order. Here in Cork we are spoken of as the foreigners. Extravagant notices of the

“English assassins,” “the murderers,” appear on the hoardings. The Government is said to be in the hands of Carson, who is hated in the South as much as he is trusted in the North. At the present time it seems to me that British authority is entirely ignored in this part of Ireland. The Sinn Fein courts revoke any ruling of the Government court. A tradesman in Cork gave me an instance of this. For over six months he has been endeavouring to obtain possession of a house he has purchased. His appeal to the court resulted in an order in his favour. The tenant (a Unionist) appealed to the Sinn Fein court and remains in possession. The Irish here and in other parts of Ireland are between two fires. No juror dare attend a British court under fear of threats from Sinn Feiners. He is fined for not attending, and threatened if he pays the fineSinn Fein seems to lie lacking in funds despite De V alera’s American appeal. Wherever I went funds were being raised for the Irish Republic, and by force. Any person who has not already subscribed is invited to do so, with a polite intimation that a donation will be in his own interest, failure to respond is followed by threats,

and while threats do not always materialise in Ireland, the daily murders and raids prove that they olten do so. Everywhere travelling is becoming more and more difficult in Ireland owing to the restriction of the train services. Tn some places I find the food supplies' are being affected. Limerick a town of about the same size as ( hesterfield, has now one in-coming and one out-going train a day. This curtailment (or disruption, as 1 heard it termed) of the transport servicce is due, I was told, to the action of the enginedrivers, who refused under orders to run trains carrying troops and munitions, As a result the outlying foodproducing districts are rapidly becoming isolated. Government is also said to stop trains. The thought which runs through the brain of the casual visitor to Ireland at every hour of the day is, “Where will this thing end?” The Protestant loyalists tell me that matters are improving; Catholic Sinn Feiners say that they are getting worse. There is astounding ignorance here amoug comparatively well-educated people about Ireland and its position iii the British Empire. It is difficult to believe that the mass of people really think that they have it in their power to enforce their will upon England. Hut there are others among the Sinn Feiners who are thoroughly weary ol the whole business and want a peaceful Ireland. ! Others, quoting from the history of j Ireland, say there never has been peace ■ in Ireland and that things are not much worse now than in 1798 or in the days of the Land League.

Again and again I asked for a solution. In the North ] was told they did not want Home Rule. In Dublin I met more moderate poop Id of both sides who seemed well satisfied with Dominion Home Rule with control of the Customs. Many of these realise that in no circumstances will they be allowed an independent Navy or Army. They said they neither wanted it nor could they afford if. There was one solution that 1 heard of here and there, which is said to have the support of De Valera and Griffith, and that is that the King’s second son, the Duke of York, should be made King of Ireland.

It requires very little contact with Irish people to show that they are not at all Socialistic or Republican. They are fond of display, uniforms, horses, sport of many kinds, devoted to their little piece of land, ready, as has been proved from time to time, to die for an ideal Ireland, but they are not at all Bolshevist.

I was told that bank deposits in Ireland are very high and that until lately the farmers had never been so prosperous and people never so well dressed. Almost the last person I saw in Ireland—and I made it my business to talk to some scores of folk—mentioned this suggestion about tbe Duke of York, and added that the Irish would dearly love a visit from the Prince of Wales. And he—my informant —was quite Sinn Fein.