BIRDS, BUTTERFLIES AND PARTITION

A hefty cutting fell out of a book picked off a shelf the other day

A hefty cutting fell out of a book picked off a shelf the other day. It was the greater part of page 6 of The Irish Press for February March 11, 1932, two days after Labour, having driven a bargain over various measures, made it possible for Fianna Fail to be come the Government. The paper had a leading article "A Good Beginning" referring particularly to the fact that at the first meeting of the new Government an order was made for the release of all political prisoners in the Free State. The page carried pen pictures of the new Ministers, some letters and other features.

The subject of partition was not neglected. A heading to catch the eye was over the daily column by Roddy the Rover (Aodh de Blacam). It was "That's in Poland - dTuigeann Tu?". It is, he tells us, a Polish story of partition. and he, Roddy, had translated it from "a neutral language." He further reminds us that "the teller is a Pole, dwelling beyond that part of Poland which the Germans had seized."

He and his little sister Annie had wandered forth from their father's mill. They went far, gathering wild flowers. They could see a yellow house with a red roof, wild vines crawling over the walls, the garden unkempt. And there, too, were low sheds, tarred black, and large, shuttered windows. Beyond was a yellow cornfield. But it was separated by a low, far running fence. At the junction of fence and house was a high, strong gate. As Annie was about to pass through it, the door of the house opened and a man cried out. "Are you going abroad?"

Then, after a minute, the young folk understood. This was "the frontier between two orders of things, two States, two rules. The waving rye which grew beyond the fence was German rye; the cornflowers which, like swinging blue lamps shone between the ears of rye, were German cornflowers. Even the wind that blew hence, with the honeyed odour of convolvuli was German." Then, "How is it," asked Annie "that the flower which grows here, even though the seed it grows from was brought from there by the wind, is ours" and the rest over there are theirs. The storyteller says "I tried to explain to her that this was perfectly natural - and even necessary". She asked: "But why?"

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The storyteller, for answer, shrugged his shoulders. Even when she went on about the birds flying free, and the butterflies.