SOUTHERN IRELAND

Hokitika Guardian, 7 March 1925, Page 4

SOUTHERN IRELAND

THE PEOPLE AND THE PLACES,

(By S. Elliot Napier in Sydney

“ Herald.”)

‘‘Ye’ll foind us quitre, but interestin’,” said our friend in tbe Blarney t?ain. And we did. J may also add that we found them very pleasant and very friendly—after a while. But that was when we got to Kilfaniey, where they laboured under the impression, apparently, that we were some kind of antipodean Seinn Feiners. Wo could not at first tell why they put us on this pedestal; hut we discovered Inter that a few weeks before, a party of the A.1.F., visiting the lake district, had, either for sheer “divilnioiit,” or with the good-natured desire to he. all things to all men which (when he was not actually engaged in lighting) so distinguished the “digger” abroad, joined up> fraternally with a hand of the “Republicans,” donned their colours, and appropriated their

colleens, and generally made themselves friends and brothers in the most approved style. They had meant nothing by it; had done it all, indeed, with out an ulterior thought, except, perhaps, to curry a little favour with the aforesaid colleens; but the Kerry folk took it as evidence of their antipathy to England and all her works. As antipathy to England was. at that time, and apparently still is, the long suit of the County Kerry hand, the result was the kindling ot a local enthusiasm for the Aussies of which we vicariously enjoyed the effects. AYe did not know this at first, as i have said ; and when we did—well, like Br’er Fox, we laid low an said miffin’. As Don put it, it would have been a i pity to disappoint them, as we reaped the benefit, it made things pleasant for everybody.

“ Interestin’” enough we found the Kerry folk truly, and as for their “(pin reness” 1 can assure you we found that characteristic most strongly developed too. There’s no understanding them, at all, at all! Me have all heard of the “Irish point of view,” though nobody vet has ever been able to define it, as far as 1 knok. But Don and 1 were given many examples of its working, and one at least of them seemed to illustrate its “quareness” so well that 1 have never forgotten it. AVe were driving one day in one of those quaint contraptions which they call a “side-car,’’ and which requires ail elephant beneath it to he exactlv like a liowdnh. when the son of Ximslii who drove it—which his name was Con Maguire, lie-dad! —turnto me and said, pointing at an old, old man sitting beside his cabin door. “Will ye sec him, now? lie’s wan of the ivicted wans.” I looked at the old gentleman with interest. “What’s he evicted lor?” I asked. “Sure, its

not ivicted now that he is,” said Con. “ hut wnnst lie was. They put him out heci’we he wuddn’t wash his windys.” And then he told us the whole story. The old man had been given the freedom of the cabin by the owner of it, as a home for his last years, upon the sole condition that he kept it clean. But he didn’t “ wash the windvs.” The owner told him it must lie done. But it was not done; and. at last, when the panes were thick with dirt, the landlord sent a man roil ml to clean them. The old tenant resisted, and was put outside while the cleaning process was hong completed. Then he was allowed to return, lhat little /episode lonstituted the “eviction ” over which we were expected to shed our tears of sympathy. For the climax of the story is that, alter tolling it, Con remarked, in all seriousness, “ But he didn’t wash Ids windows—an’ why should he?” There von have the Irish point of view m a nutshell. The only obligation on the man who bad been treated so kindly l, v bis landlord was that small ‘‘washin’ of the windys,” But, because it was an obligation, everything else was forgotten, and the old man was regarded as a hero for refusing to honour if himself, and as a martyr foi having had to turn out while it was honoured for him. KILLING CROMWELL.

1 have said that the antipathy to the English is very pronounced and very general. Ami so. when we went into an old lady’s cabin near Blarney at her urgent request and had a cup of tny,” we were very naturally surprised to see upon the wall a smokestained oleograph representing no less a person that his Majesty King Charles 11. There was “Old Rowley,” as large as life, and his curls and spaniel, all complete. Don said. “ Hut that's a king of England.” Said the old dame: “It is that; hut I’m after having him now, seeing that he killed Cromwell, as they’re tolling me.” We let it go at that; for we quite understood that anyone who wrought—or was believed to have wrought—any kind of ill to the owner of the most bitterly hated name in Ireland deserves a place of honour in every cabin in the laud. AYe wouldn’t have corrected the history of our kindly hostess for worlds; ‘hut the incident is not without significance when one regards it from the “ Irish point of view.” They are long rememberers and good haters, those people of old Erin ; and the lact that their “ remembnyiees ” may he all wrong,does not affect the mattei \ei\ much. Like the mother who sent a messenger to her small hoy to find out what he was doing ‘‘ and toll him ho mustn’t,” every Southern I relander whom we met seemed to he pretty sure that if the particular grievance he complained of were to he proved untenable, it would not really matter there are plenty of others; and England was responsible for the lot! It may he asked how anyone- could form any definite opinion upon such a matter with so short an experience as we had. In reply I may say that, if short, it was pretty thorough. AYe went into all sorts of places and met all sorts of people; but we scarcely met one who had not a grievance against England. To us thev were all. as 1 have said, most friendly and most hospitable; hut under the impression that we were anti-British too, they spoke their minds to us and pretty freely. BLARNEY TO KILLARNKY. The groves of Blarney have been celebrated in verse; but although we admit them beautiful enough, we were not so lucky as he of whom Milhkon sang: ’Tis there the lover May hear the dove or The gentle plover In the afternoon. u ;l matter of fact we found them very lonelv. and, save for “ Our Lady of the Postcards,” we met not a sign or sound of any living thing withm a good half-mile of the little castle. I he monotonous music of the little nvei Martin, which, dividing hereabouts into twin streams, rattles down beside the ruined walls, was all that we heard. And vet, 1 understand that the fauna

of this part of the world is both rare ntul rich. AVliy they even have a black slug with yellow spots that is found nowhere else except in Portugal. There’s glory for you, as Humpty Dumpty would say! AA'e did not see this Lusitanian wonder; and as his voice is, l understand, soft gentle, and low—as excellent a tiling in a slug, surely, as in a woman—wc failed to hear his song either. But we did notice again the beauty and the abundance of the flora. The season was late winter, but there was no trace of snow or ice, and everywhere the trees were green. A few days later, at Killanicy, wc were to walk most surprisedly amid palms, arbutus, magnolias, and bamboos, all growing in the open; but though the grooves of Blarney could not aspire to this magnificence, they were striking enough to eyes which bad so recently seen nothing but the bareness of the English woods and lanes. And. just as we were leaving, there, in the little leaping stream, we caught a glimpse of one of those “brown trout for which the South of Ireland is famous. The sigiit reconciled us to the unaccountable absence of the slugs, and wo became quite happy. AA e wn'lced back to our station via the village and found it much to our surprise, a quite considerable place. One does not associate Blarney .with the mniiulacturo of khaki, but that was what we bad found it doing, and doing A\it i some success, we were told, and in considerable magnitude. It was here that wo encountered our old lady of the 11,unwell episode, and all excellent brew d “ tay " she gave us. Also a > P”P

from a plant of shamrock that she lnd growing in a pot in the cabin and which I still keep pressed beside i >.y Trossachs heather. The shamrock is a noinewhat disappointing vegetable, though, I must confess. It is about the size of nothing at all, and, as it lias neither scent nor flower to add to its insignificance, one lias to be quite n sentimentalist to live up to it. ns it were. But Don and 1 are nothing if not sentimental, and in “the (bar little shamrock, the swate little shamrock ” wc wore enabled to vision the honoured emblem of a country which is as beautiful as any that our eves have ever seen.

AYe came hack at last to our station, and, having nearly all hour of dusk to wait, decided to “ claim ours? >es ” a little of the Blarney Castle dust and the grooves of Blarney mud. Dmi:,:’.’ a little water for the process, I ventured ' to ask at a neighbouring cabin if 1 might have some. A cry welcome I was. and returned with joy and a dishful of the desired liquid. A moment or so altcrwnrds the lady of the house arrived at the station will a smoile and a parcel. “Himself was thinking,” she explained heartily, “ maybe ye Might he wantin’ the lid of the loan of wan of tliini htttle brushes.” With the words she placed before us on the seat a collection of the articles in question; and when I add that among them was a well-worn toothbrush you may well conclude that hospitality could no iurthcr go! lint was our last adventure at Blarney, and the impression of its humour and Kindliness was strong upon us as we rolled a wav into the night towards the lakes and fells of beckoning Killanicy.