Francis Ledwidge, Poet and Soldier, 1887-1917

The 100th anniversary of the death of the poet-soldier Francis Ledwidge, in World War 1, occurs on 31^st July this year. It should draw more attention to the life and work of this fascinating writer. The family cottage is now a museum, well worth a visit, just east of Slane, on the N51.

http://www.francisledwidge.com

My own interest in the life and work of Francis Ledwidge rests on a dramatic question: how does a person hold soldiering, which is death-affirming, and poetry, which is life-affirming, even when tragic, in one life? I made a short film with RTÉ on that question last year,

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eV06xjAiETM

The complexities behind the question previously drew out of me a radio talk for RTÉ's Sunday Miscellany, an unproduced screenplay, a radio play for RTÉ, a museum talk and a stage play, Still, the Blackbird Sings, which The Playhouse toured nationally in 2010 and Creggan Enterprises toured to non-theatre venues, as a script-in-hand production, in the Derry-Strabane area in 2016.

The story of Francis Ledwidge's time in Ebrington Barracks, Derry, as a member of the British Army's Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers in 1916, intrigues me. Much speculation occurs on why Ledwidge enlisted in the first place. The patronage of a local Anglo-Irish aristocrat and the furious grief of the young broken-hearted, among other causes, are cited. See Alice Curtayne's biography and Dermot Bolger's selection of the poetry, which New Island will bring out in March.

What intrigues me further is why did he, and so many others, stay in, when they'd witnessed and committed horrors in campaigns in Gallipoli and in France. In my play, Ledwidge, the lance-corporal, heads a squad of five young soldiers, not long returned to barracks. Ledwidge, the poet-soldier, leads his squad, drilling and boozing and carousing, as he writes love poems and nature verses and wonders if he's made the right choices, while they wait for the call to war again.

His best known poem is dedicated to Thomas Mac Donagh, also a poet-soldier. Ledwidge laments that Mac Donagh will not hear the bittern cry. There is something of the bittern, a rare bird, about Francis Ledwidge himself.

My radio talk about him followed a visit I made to his grave in Belgium, in 1997:

'Grave number 5, Row B, second plot. There is a corner of a foreign field that is forever Ireland. I stood amidst the gravestones, pleased somehow that Ledwidge should be lying among the green fields outside a small village. No Boyne water rushed by, but a small river passed under a bridge. I thought about the poet and the lines from his own poem, A Soldier’s Grave

And where the earth was soft for flowers we made

A grave for him that he might better rest.

So, Spring shall come and leave it sweet arrayed,

And there the lark shall turn her dewy nest.'

This piece appears in the March 2017 edition of Final Draft, the members' newsletter of the Irish Writers' Union.

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THE SAME, ONLY DIFFERENT, IN THE NORTH

Two elections to the local legislative assembly, within a year, have left the political situation in Northern Ireland exactly the same. Only different.

The same because the two largest parties remain the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) and Sinn Féin (SF). They are the only parties who can form an Executive within the Assembly, on numbers only, though other parties, such as the Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP) and the Ulster Unionist Party (UUP) could take seats on the Executive. Their recent move onto the opposition benches means that's unlikely.

Different because the gap between the DUP and SF tightened significantly and the project involving the two smaller parties making up enough ground to catch their rivals in their bid for power shuddered to a halt. The SDLP held their seats, on an increased vote, thus standing still. The UUP got thumped, their leader standing down, even before the final count was concluded. 

Speculation is mounting that the rump UUP may, as part of the re-alignments that follow all elections, coalesce with the DUP. A kite-flying notice that they may link with the SDLP will be blown into the air and over the horizon, when their leadership battle commences. Survival is the challenge they face.

The Alliance Party (AP) fared well, in their terms, increasing their votes significantly. It has to be noted that all parties increased their vote, as the overall turnout increased, reaching 64.8%, up from 54.9% in 2016.

The major beneficiary is SF. The party now has 27 seats in the new 90 seat Assembly. The largest party is the DUP at 28. Adding the perceived republican/nationalist seats (27, SF; 12, SDLP) gives 39. Adding perceived unionists (DUP, 28; UUP, 10; Traditional Unionist Voice, TUV, 1) also gives 39. Where the Alliance Party (8 seats), the Green Party (2 seats), People Before Profit (1 seat) and Independent (1 seat) will align themselves remains to be seen.

Coalitions within the two local -isms (unionism and nationalism) are unlikely in the near future. They will not be easily forged as conflict and antipathy have been the order of the day since the Assembly, based in Belfast, followed the Good Friday Agreement in 1998.

An immediate sticking point on the formation of a new Executive to lead the Assembly is agreement on the First and Deputy First Minister. The DUP will seek to nominate for the First Minister and currently assert they will nominate Arlene Foster, who was in place before the election. She is mired in unresolved issues following a scandal involving financial support for a scheme promoting wood-chip boilers. SF have said they will not nominate for Deputy First Minister, if that is the case. No one watching politics in Northern Ireland would be surprised if both assertions were modified.

Post-election talks begin today (6.3.2017), under the stewardship of James Brokenshire, an MP from England, who serves as Secretary of State for Northern Ireland on behalf of the UK government. His credentials as a neutral broker are challenged, given that he is a member of the Conservative and Unionist Party (Tory), headed by the UK Prime Minister, Teresa May. He is the most powerful person in the room, however, as the Westminster government rules Northern Ireland, where a number of powers, such as those over education, health, culture and agriculture, are devolved to the Assembly and Executive in Belfast.

Devolution powers are ring-fenced by money from London, the so-called Block Grant, annually delivered from the UK Treasury. When, and if, an Executive gets up and running, among its first tasks will be to set a budget. This will not be an easy task, as it will have to satisfy the local parties, but, primarily, it will have to serve the interests of the Treasury, inherently conservative, regardless of the government in power, and the Tory Party, hell-bent on austerity economics, in the context of Brexit.

James Brokenshire's talks are scheduled to last three weeks. If no Assembly and Executive emerges, he can call another election. He is unlikely to do that. A period of direct rule from London is more likely, perhaps a form of partial direct rule, with London minsters taking some powers and pushing through measures that local parties cannot stomach. Versions of this have happened before and this seems the most likely next step. Members of the new Assembly may lose their salaries if no Executive is put in place.

This leads to a scenario where people in the poorest part of the UK, the people most dependent on public sector jobs and benefits, will feel the full force of the austerity gale blowing out of London, as Storm Brexit gathers pace. A snap UK election in May is possible as the Tories take advantage of their success in delivering on the referendum vote to leave the EU and drive the British Labour Party to the outer edges of power.

Ironically, despite the protestations by local parties in the North that they have secured 'mitigations' to the Tory Party project of welfare reform, many poorer and vulnerable people will suffer.

Thus while political matters are different, somewhat, they remain fundamentally the same. So it is in the North.

Meanwhile, in the South, historical travesties against mothers and babies by Church and State literally rise from the grave in Galway; the police service implodes on itself, while the Celtic Tiger bubbles up again, with homelessness, particularly in Dublin, a rampant litmus test, as rents and house prices rise. Talk of an economic recovery echoes hollowly in the capital's financial centres, while people in the rest of the country continue to struggle. And that's without mentioning water charges.

It's a tough gig being a politician, North or South. Power is elsewhere – London, Brussels, global corporate HQs – while responsibility and accountability pulse loudly locally. In the Trump Universe we now occupy, with Brexit, in particular as it affects Scotland, the biggest political driver in this part of the west of Europe, cultural and social matters – the Irish language in the North and abortion rights in the South – may light the fuse under the next round of political changes, when things will be even more different, but also still the same.

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