Northern Ireland
By THOMAS SKELTON IT is difficult to know exactly that to call this part of Ireland, which by vote continuously elects to be an integral part of the British Commonwealth of Nations. It is generally bracketed as Great Britain and Northern Ireland, though, in fact, geographically, it is only part of the North. To be correct it would need to add County Donegal to its six counties to have a correct nomenclature. For it comprises Counties Antrim, Derry, Tyrone, Fermanagh, Armagh and Down. Sometimes it is referred to as Ulster, but historic Ulster had nine counties, and geographically it still has. So the Ulsterman on one side of the Border sings ` God Save the Queen,' and an Ulsterman on the other side, in Eire, sings, no doubt with equal zest and enthusiasm, ' The Soldier's Song, both in geographical Ulster, and both in the North of Ireland.
The name used by Eire in relation to this part of Ulster is The Six Counties. It is all a little involved as you can well see, and for me, I have an idea that we should find a name. For example, a couple of letters from each one gives this Swiftian result-: Andetyferardown, which would lend each county a mortgage on the whole name. This has been in my head since I undertook to tramp round it on foot, I suppose a matter of seven hundred miles or so, and I am of course satisfied with no such name as I have had the sauce to suggest. I have considered another name, the 6 Bar 26, which is equally unsatisfactory.
But on my perambulations I have been sleeping rough in barns, sheds, haylofts or strawlofts as I have opportunity, and have been entertained on my way by both Republicans and True Blue Loyalists. All of them have kind hearts, and on the road I have walked across the sentiments which motivate the many. Not far from my starting point large letters. across. the road announced NO POPE HERE.' There obviously wasn't, for it was open country. Some days farther North, I tramped over large letters on the road which announced THE I.R.A.' and ' WELCOME DEV.'
Both are usual enough signs if you hunt for them. But the one welcoming Dev ' was no doubt the reaction of tlio Nationalists in the north of the province when the ceremony in connection with Sir Roger Casement was presided over by De Valera. They told me it was a vast gathering. I should i say, of course, that Sir Roger Casement is, I suppose, a mis• statement, for he lost his knighthood consequent upon being charged with treason, and is buried at Pentonville, from which place Nationalists want his remains removed to be interred at Murlough Bay, near Ballycastle. How the negotiations aia going I do not know. Maybe his dust might have a revolu• tionary reaction to the loyal air of the province, and though asked how I thought the affair would end, I, of course, do not know.
In the Loyal parts the folk are conscious of the implications, particularly of religion. Some ' True Blue' Protestants often enquire circuitously to discover what foot you dig with (that is, whether or not you are a Roman Catholic). In some quarters that is taken to be synonymous with Nationalism, a grave error. The Nationalist, however, is not so much interested in the religion as in whether or not you know the history of the Rebellions, before and after 1798, and the burying places of the heroes. In point of fact, a great many leaders of Nationalist aspirations have been Protestant, so that any ready reckoner guide. such as religion, is invariably at fault.
Anyhow?, on my tramping round I have had the cautious approaches from both elements as to what side I was on, or an attempt to gauge it, and have stopped in the barns of Trt Blues' as well as those of Nationalists. The latter are quick to deny, incidentally, a fact taken to be the gospel, that Roman Catholics are completely dominated by the priesthood. The True Blue' element, the Orangemen, are convinced, and determined to maintain their principles, though often they count among their personal friends political opponents. Indeed, I do count Orangemen and Nationalists among my own per• sonal friends. and I dare say the majority are the same, leavirg discrimination to heartily detested elements on both sides, the bigots.
So life on this level, where these days I meet it as a wandereS of the roads, is kindly and helpful, as well as understanding. It is invariably with some astonishment that I read of itS vitriolic interpretation at times in reports of public speeches. A platform always was a heady place to talk from, the man high and lifted up must find a rarity in the air that goes to his head. A man at his own fireside is probably more tolerant than he is in a public huddle. There is, of course, the man's private politics, sometimes not the same as his public politics, and there are his private solutions to problems which differ from his public solutions. I have comb to the conclusion that as the Englishman is. addicted to principles, so Irishmen are addicted to fair play, and if the idea of fighting for fair play is sold to them. iben they take it. That is the trouble, for there are as many inlet'• pretations of fair play as there are persons to think about it. As for justice, it has always been a problem to the Irish. They have not found a solution to it; hence, I suppose, their lova for litigation.
As 1 continue to tramp around I shall no doubt continue to ask questions and bg asked questions. I shall continuo meeting at the day's end the man at ease who lets me sleet) in his barn, and we will talk one way or another of this strang land about which so much is spoken. Now a cry has gone up, that we are losing our identity as Irishmen, which surely we all are, though, as it happens, loyal ones. But that cry, I think, is a kind of individual voice, airing frustration of a personss kind, for a loss of identity is not a public issue but a private one. And as I tramp around what in song is this most die' tressful country,' I find little in it that is distressful except the high rate of unemployment, deplored from top to bottom Jaye:" by all sides in unity.
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