The Sun THURSDAY, JUNE 21, 1928 A LOSS TO LETTERS

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 386, 21 June 1928, Page 10

The Sun THURSDAY, JUNE 21, 1928 A LOSS TO LETTERS

'THERE will be quick tears of grief in the vales of Erin over tlie * untimely death of Donn Byrne, the Irish novelist. In the quaint talk of his own peasant people Pate herself has drawn him into her arms and put the quiet on him too soon. And the note of keening will be sharp and honest not only on each side of the Irish Sea, but on both sides of the Atlantic and in many of the far countries where the pleasantness of his prose had won for him the firm right hand of friendship. The fine work that he had already done was nothing to that which bis admirers and friends had expected him to do. He was only 39. Donn Byrne was one of very few Irish writers whose love and literature for Ireland were not marred by political distemper. Not that the eager man was out of sympathy with his country’s raging cause iR the heyday of his recent youth. No, not that at all; but he knew quite well that behind the din and damnableness of Irish politics there was an enduring Ireland of beauty and inherent kindness. Of course, the bog poet in him responded to the shrill bugle notes of political freedom, but he mixed philosophy with his politics and thus made a brew that was less heady than poteen. This gave him a steady sanity at a time when the thoughts of even more gifted countrymen ran a bit wild. As lie himself once wrote about Ireland’s wrongs: “That the English have done us much evil is a fact I doubt. The grave English wisdom of Sir Roger de Coverley that ‘much might be said on both sides’ is not inapplicable. We have done some shrewd infighting.” Like every other true 'lrishman, Donn Byrne was a heroworshipper. But the heroism that made him “stand to as though the Colours were passing” had to hold more courage and chivalry than the craft of political cunning. In Dublin there is a monument to Nelson, and there is also a statue of Parnell. Of the politician, the creator of “Blind Raftery” said with penetrating Irish candour: “Parnell, for all that was written of him, was a penniless political adventurer to whom Ireland gave a career and a living, and who let down his country for some woman. Irishmen don’t do that. As to Nelson, we welcome him. He had nothing to do with Ireland, but he was a hero.” But to carry the soiled game of politics to the raw edge of a new grave is an intrusion. This brilliant Irishman made his name and was well on the road to fame because of the power of his pen in limning the real life of Ireland and the heart-wringing love it creates in the hearts of her sons. To him Ireland was the thatched cottage, the glory of glens, love of horses and of children, and the liquid softness in Irish peasant voices. Legends and leprechauns, old cities and castles with moss on them>, names like a bar of music, lakes and fantastic bowlders, the honest perfume of humble flowers of the field, the walls of Derry, and the noted golf links at Portrush where Irishmen, forbearing to boast, “like to see Scotsmen walking in from the eighteenth green, white-faced, broken men.” That was the Ireland of Donn Byrne, and it is something toward the fame of any Irishman to have the gift of arousing his people and others far out of sight with the peace of Ireland and not with a passionate, screaming tale of old wrongs and new rebellion. Who, having once taken the road with Blind Raftery would not go again on the same journey, after hearing the tragic news from Dublin? Even if the lover of Galway with the final quiet on him had never written another word about Ireland and its necromantic loveliness it was a great achievement to have written that fine story. He believed in the soul of man, and laughed at the anthropologists because he had never met them at the races. There was enough mysticism in his work to make him kin to the little people of the Connemara hills. And now he has gone quickly to Tir nan Og before another harvest of mountain ash had been gathered, before his head had become as white as bogflowers. The only passport to that Assured Land is love of one’s country. Donn Byrne had it. His epitaph might well be the peasant’s tribute: “Tis this way, your Honour, himself wouldn’t offend a child.” TESTS OF SPORTSMANSHIP 'THE All Black tour of South Africa is now sufficiently far * advanced to set the Rugby cognoscenti eagerly speculating on the New Zealanders’ chances of victory in the Tests, the first of which takes place at Durban next week. After playing Natal on Saturday, the All Blacks will have a clear week’s “letup” before meeting the full strength of the Springbok on the following Saturday. Hard and fast followers of the game in New Zealand, who frankly regard these Rugby tests as events of national importance, are breathing a sigh of relief at the return of the tourists to tlie orthodox New Zealand team formation. Maurice Brownlie’s expression of confidence in the team is hailed as an indication that the All Blacks have now found their feet, and that no more rash experiments will be attempted. The games, so far, have been desperately hard, and there has been a suggestion that a certain amount of unnecessary feeling has been introduced into the play. Rugby, as a game, would not be worth playing if both sides did not go all out to win, but it is sincerely to be hoped that in the Tests, there will be no repetition of the Johannesburg incident, in which a player was ordered off the field. Whether or not the particular player concerned was entirely to blame is beside the point. Rugby football should be as much a Test of sportsmanship as of playing ability. The extraordinary interest that is being manifested in the All Blacks’ tour in Africa is indicated by tlie prices which are being charged for admission to the Tests, which range as high as two guineas. There may be room for argument about commercialising Rugby tours as a gigantic public spectacle, but so far the game has retained a definite amateur status. Football tours have been much more frequent, and incidentally enormously more costly, since the war, but their value in promoting friendly rivalry in sport and in drawing the different parts of the Empire closer together cannot be gainsaid. So long as they retain these essential features, all will be well.