Sunday, December 30, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Monday, December 17, 2012
Rihla (Journey 33): ADARE MANOR, LIMERICK, IRELAND: MISTLETOE, MARISCO AND MAGIC
Rihla (The Journey) – was the short title of a 14th
Century (1355 CE) book written in Fez by the Islamic legal scholar Ibn Jazayy
al-Kalbi of Granada who recorded and then transcribed the dictated travelogue
of the Tangerian, Ibn Battuta. The book’s full title was A Gift to Those who Contemplate the Wonders of Cities and the Marvels
of Travelling and somehow the title of Ibn Jazayy's book captures the ethos
of many of the city and country journeys I have been lucky to take in past
years.
This
rihla is about ADARE, Co. Limerick, Ireland.
Adare village in Co. Limerick, Ireland,
is a vibrant, surviving urban phenomenon of an otherwise Famine-blighted, fogbound, stone-rot landscape
of Ireland of the 1840s with its wide boulevards, well built houses, pointed
walls, cared-for thatch, generous public spaces, muted providence, an august trinity
of friaries, and the brash haughtiness of a true manorial town that once serviced
the needs of Adare Manor (commissioned in 1832 by Windham Henry Quin, the 2nd
Earl of Dunraven and Mount-Earl with the spirited encouragement of his wife
Caroline and finished by his son Edwin Wyndham-Quin, the 3rd Earl in
1862 in the midst of a social and economic disaster that existed elsewhere) but
is now almost smug in its continuing exuberance that has seen it regularly
voted as Ireland’s most beautiful town.
The Quins of Adare were the hereditary
chiefs of the Hy Ifearnan (Heffernan) clan, of the Cineal Fearmaic sept of the
Dál gCais kingdom of Munster (c.1000CE), and were originally from Muintir
Ifernain in central County Clare (the later barony of Inchiquin). Windham
Quin’s father Valentine, one of the last titular Gaelic tribal chiefs elevated
to a peerage, was made an Earl in February 1822.
But Adare is much older a place
than the Quin’s manor and its original Irish name was Áth Dara meaning the Ford
of the Oak and this brings me to the connection to mistletoe. In the small, walled orchard garden of Adare Manor that now serves as the practice putting green for
the championship golf course there are 5 or 6 apple trees that produce a really
succulent fruit. But it is in December, when the apple fruit and foliage has
withered away that the trees are at their most majestic. For it is then that
they are covered in most wonderful green and white berry medley (like hollies
only the female mistletoe has berries) that is the mystical and magical mistletoe. There
are few, if any, places in Ireland that you can see, never mind touch, the plant
in all its glory.
Adare Manor Garden Orchard Mistletoe
Mistletoe, a hemi-parasite
plant that is transferred as a sticky seed excrement by the Mistle Thrush from
deciduous trees (oak, apple sometimes lime) to tree, is not a native Irish
plant yet does have an ancient Irish name: drualas. This is a derivation of
Druidh las, the Druid’s herb. Very little is written down concerning the Druids
but Pliny the Elder in his Naturalis Historie (c79CE) states,
"The Druids (so they call their Magi) hold
nothing in such sacred respect as the mistletoe, and the tree upon which it
grows, provided it be an oak. 'Omnia sanantem appellantes suo vocabulo.' (They
call it by a word signifying in their own language All-Heal.) And having
prepared sacrifices, and feast under the tree, they bring up two white bulls,
whose horns are then first bound; the priest, in a white robe, ascends the
tree, and cuts it off with a golden knife; it is received in a white sheet.
Then, and not till then, they sacrifice the victims, praying that God would
render His gift prosperous to those on whom He had bestowed it. When mistletoe
is given as a potion, they are of opinion that it can remove animal barrenness,
and that it is a remedy against all poisons."
Beyond
the pale of the manor Adare’s medieval ecclesiastical history is still visible
with the presence of three Abbeys: Augustinian, Trinitarian and Franciscan.
Mosaic from 1218 above door of Trinitarian Church of
San Tommaso in Formis in Rome.
The
Trinitarian establishment (now the Roman Catholic Parish church) for me holds
the most fascination, as the Trinitarian Order of Friars, who dedicated their
lives to raising ransom money to redeem Christian captives on the Barbary Coast
(as well as running hospitals in the slave banos of Algiers and Tunis),
featured strongly in my first novel, The Simurgh and the Nightingale about Barbary
Pirates in the 1600s. The Trinitarian Order, founded by St. John de Matha, was
approved of by a Bull of Pope Innocent III, Operante divine dispositionis
clementia, issued on the 17th December 1198. Other early Christian
captive redemptionist orders were the Spanish Military Order of Santiago
(1175), The Order of Montegaudio (1178), and the Order of the Merced (1218).
The
Adare abbey was the only Trinitarian establishment in Ireland and they had been
invited there around 1229 by a second-wave archtypical Anglo-Norman
robber-baron Geoffrey de Marisco. Geoffrey’s full name was Geoffroi de
Montmorency de Marisco, Lord of Thorney and Huntspill in Somerset (Marisco
being a derivation of Marsh). Geoffrey was well connected to Ireland as his
sister had married Thomas Fitzmaurice Fitzgerald the founder of the House of
Desmond. He became the Justicar or Lord Chief Justice of Ireland from 1226-28 and
in addition to his connections also inherited extensive lands in Ireland from
his uncle-in-law John Comyn, Archbishop of Dublin in 1192. He subsequently
expanded his holdings by marrying as his second wife, Eve de Bermingham, the
daughter and heir of Robert de Bermingham, Baron of Offaly.
In
addition to the Trinitarian Abbey Geoffrey also invited the Knights Hospitaller
to establish a commandery in 1215 in nearby Aney (now Hospital). The advantage
of settling military and religious orders by the Norman barons on their properties
was not entirely pious but guaranteed that associated (and tithe paying) lands
would be held safe and their value increased. Geoffrey was to take part in many
Norman attacks on the Irish in Connacht. This too was to leave a legacy as the
Morris family, one of the famous Tribes of Galway, owe their descent to him.
It was not to end well for Geoffrey however. In 1238 an attempt was made
to assassinate Henry III of England and suspicion fell on William (Geoffrey’s
son– executed by being drawn, hung and quartered in 1242 for piracy and murder)
and Geoffrey. Some time between then and 1242 he fled to Scotland where he was
sheltered by a kinsman, Walter Comyn. In 1244 he was forced to leave Scotland,
possibly as part of the agreement reached in that year between Henry III and
Alexander II and he died in France in the following year.
Mathew Paris in Vol iii of his Chronica Majora of
1250 (with a side drawing of the execution of William) said unlovingly of
Geoffrey that he was,
"a man who formerly been a noble and not
least amongst the magnates of Ireland, who had incurred an indelible stain by
the treacherous murder of Richard Earl Marshal, and who was now an exile, a
wretched and hunted man, having been expelled from Scotland deported from
England, and disinherited in Ireland, after the ignominious death of his son
and the loss of all his friends, banished from public view, finally ended so
many deaths with his own. (Obit Galfridus de Marisco, exul, pauper et
profugus).”
Mathew Paris self-portrait
As you turn your back on
Geoffrey’s Trinitarian edifice and walk back up the street and through the
imposing gates of Adare Manor, you stare up at the oaks, and think of druids
and ritual, pagans and sinners, slaves and free, normans and celts, exile and
homecoming, and the perpetual timeline of change.
Adare Manor Mistletoe (7th December 2012)
Druids cutting mistletoe with a golden sickle from an oak.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
I WANTED....
I wanted my sight of you,
When it came,
As a summer morn,
On gentle sea;
To sway.
I wanted my scent of you,
When it came,
As a summer breeze,
Of honeysuckle;
To surround.
I wanted my words to you,
When they came,
As a summer shower,
On taut canvas;
To sparkle.
I wanted my touch of you,
When it came,
As a summer sun,
On bare rock;
To scorch.
I wanted my love of you,
When it came,
As a summer night,
On still warm grass;
To surrender.
©R Derham 2012
Thursday, December 06, 2012
HAPPY CHRISTMAS 2012
This is my adaption of James Jacques-Joseph Tissot's circa 1894 Journey of the Magi, which I feel best captures the probable reality of the Biblical story.
I would like to wish every visitor to the blog the very best of good fortune in the coming year. May some of your dreams come true.
Roger Derham
p.s. See also: http://deworde.blogspot.ie/2010/12/christmas-story-magi-myrrh-and-mothers.html
Tuesday, December 04, 2012
NAURU & NABLUS
The
United Nations continues to be our
best hope for creating a fairer
and more
just world.
God bless the Republic of Nauru,
and God bless the United Nations.
Marcus
Stephen, President of the Republic of Nauru
General
Assembly UN 64th Session
25
September 2009 (UN Doc. A/64/PV.7)
The
Republic of Nauru, the smallest Republic in the world, is a small island of
about 21 square kilometres, inhabited by 9500 people in the middle of the South
Pacific. A long way from everywhere (especially Nablus) the centre of the
island was a once deep repository of millennia of bird-shit which provided the
phosphate mother-load subsequently plundered by Germany, Japan, Australia, New
Zealand and the United Kingdom. Gaining independence in 1968 it had one of the
highest per-capita incomes in the world until the phosphate ran out (estimated
at one point to last about 300 years the commercial exploitation by Australia
in particular reduced that to about 30) and Nauru was reduced to earing its
crust by allowing Australia build a detention centre for migrant boat-people
and allowing illegal money laundering.
Nauruans
suffered severely in the Second World war (1500 were transported to the island
of Truk for slave labour) and fully understand the exploitative potential of a
more powerful neighbour backed by “Superpower” consensus (see Judgement on
Preliminary Objections. Nauru v.
Australia. International Court of Justice. No 92/18 26 June 1992) and yet
in the General Assembly vote taken in the 67th Session on the 29th
November 2012 to accord the Palestinian Authority non-Member Observer State
status (UN Doc. A/Res/67/19) at the UN, Nauru voted against the adoption of the
resolution (along with the USA & Israel of course, but also Canada, the
Czech Republic, Marshal Islands, Micronesia, Palau and Panama).
I am
not entirely certain what the people of Nablus ever did to Nauru. It is not
clear from the debate as to why they voted against the resolution as I can find
no record of a verbal or written submission. Being generous I might conclude
that Nauru’s stance might have because of similar concerns to those expressed
by Canada and the Czech Republic about the ‘watering-down’ of the impetus to
achieve a true Two State solution but I suspect it was more likely part of a
South Pacific game plan to force a greater ‘climate change’ dialogue by flexing
their voting rights.
It
is true that the non-Member Observer State status might allow a ‘back-door’
access to other organs such as the International Criminal Court but in the
realpolitik of complete Israeli and American intransigence to progressing the
Two State solution it perhaps is the only way at present.
I
have a problem with Nauru and its political posturing, who without explanation,
and who only two months previously on the 26th September 2012 had
ratified the UN Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or
Degrading Treatment or Punishment, would then ignore the inhuman and degrading
treatment perpetuated by Israel on the people of Nablus and would decide to
deny them and all other Palestinians some avenue of hope in trying to rightly
achieve the independent statehood that Nauru has already gained for the sake of
some ‘great game’.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
FINNEGAN'S WAKE, HYPEROTOMACHIA POLIPHILO and DR. FAUSTROLL : Joyce’s Dream Lovers
“A way a lone a last a long
the…. riverrun past Eve’s and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay
brings us by a commodious vicus of recirculation to Howth Castle and Environs.”
The last unfinished
sentence of James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake merges into the first uninitiated
sentence thereby establishing the premise and purpose of a recurrent dream,
with all its layers of distortion in human behaviour, desires, beliefs and expression.
The only constant is a carefully constructed almost classical architecture, is
the room, the street, the city, as counterpoise to otherwise fleeting images of
self and language and to the old adage which states, “No man steps in the same
river twice".
Finnegan’s Wake, named for
a remembered tune of Joyce’s youth about a drunken bricklayer who fell to his
death but who at his wake was splashed with whiskey and startling to life
exclaimed ‘Soul to the devil, do ye think I’m dead?’, is a resurrection
odyssey.
Finnegan’s Wake is the night to Ulysses’ day.
You might think from the
above, if you were being generous, gentile, and game, that I have read FW
but confess I must, I have not, at least not beyond about the first and last few pages and the iconic final chapter of Book I where two washerwomen across the
Liffey discuss the sexual failings of the publican and dreamer Humphrey
Chimpden Earwicker and where Joyce manages to include the names of more than
500 rivers. I found Finnegan’s Wake, even with the best will in the world, impenetrable,
as is often the case when you try to walk in someone else’s dream.
The departure in 20th
century literature that FW represented opened as many doors as it closed and in
a strange way, and this brings me shortly to the Via Frattina in Rome, echoed
the response in the early 1500’s to another dream sequence book which also invented
and reinvented language (this time Latinate Italian as the core rather than
Hiberno-English) called Hypnerotomachia Poliphili by Francesco Colonna, and
first published in 1499.
Title Page of English Translation of Hypnerotomachia 1599
For Poliphilo (translated
as either ‘friend of many things’ or ‘city lover’) read HC Earwicker and their
respective dream transits through the night are similar in pursuit of their
respective lovers Polia (many things) and Anna Livia Plurabelle (many beauties).
Poliphilo wakes up just as he is to take Polia in his arms and Earwicker fails
in trying to have intercourse with Anna Livia.
Was Joyce aware of the Hypnerotomachia?
This is uncertain. I have searched many of the references to Joyce’s voluminous
notebooks and not yet found a concrete connection or even a ‘commodious vicus
of recirculation.’ And yet I feel there must be and that that connection must
be linked to Joyce’s unhappy stay in Rome between 1906-1907. A recent personal
trip to Rome and the happenchance stumbling-upon a sculptural representation
from the Hypnerotomachia got me wandering or wondering, for sometimes in my
case they are one in the same.
Via Frattina is a narrow
road that links the Via del Corso and the southern end of the Piazza Spangna
where the Palazzo di Propaganda Fide (an extraterritorial property of the Holy
See which houses the Congregation for the Propagation of the Catholic Faith in
non-Catholic countries) and the church of Sant Andrea delle Fratte are situated. Sant
Andrea, dedicated to St Andrew of Scotland, was first built in 1192 was called infra hortes or ‘between orchards’.
Later it became known as Fratte, an old roman word for woods.
Across from the hotel where
I was staying was No: 52 Via Frattina. On the wall is a plaque, which
acknowledges that this was the address that Joyce first stayed during his short
sojourn in Rome between August 1906 and March 1907. Joyce then 24 arrived in Rome, already fluent
in French and Italian and able to read Ibsen in the original Norwegian. Typical
however of his previous stay in Trieste Joyce was continually penniless, was forever
leaving debts and was drinking heavily. So heavily that his landlord Signor
Dufour was to evict Joyce, Nora and baby Giorgio out onto the Via Frattina on the 1st
December 1906 having taking a severe dislike to his late-night revelries.
Via Frattina at Dusk looking east towards the Spanish Steps.
Joyce's digs are in house to right of picture at No 52.
Leaving Austrian Trieste Joyce
had obtained a position in the private German bank of Nast-Kolb &
Schumacher, which was located in the Palazzo Marignoli further down the Corso (but
entered from no 87 Via S. Caudio), and moved his family into Via Frattina. To
all intents and purposes Joyce appears to have hated the city ('Rome reminds me of a man who lives by
exhibiting to travellers his grandmother’s corpse’), the bank clerks he
worked with ('When I
enter the bank in the morning I wait for someone to announce something about
either his cazzo, culo or coglioni’), the postal service (‘insolent whores’) and in a later
letter was to call his stay in Rome a ‘folly’.
And yet the city must have
influenced his subsequent writing and this brings me to the link to the
Hypnerotomachia.
I suppose if you were to
discuss Joyce’s religious affiliation you probably best describe him as a
‘lapsed drunk’ whereas in contrast Brendan Behan was faithful to the end. And
yet the catholic tradition kept a hold on him, a fascination. On his evening and
night-time perambulations (Joyce claimed he used drinking as a form of family
planning!) he would have walked on many occasions past the church of Santa
Maria Sopra Minerva and I am certain that its history would have pulled him in.
Tombstone of Cardinal Juan de Torquemada
Sancta Maria sopra Minerva
The church was commissioned
about 1275 by the Dominican Order on the site of the former Temple of Isis (it
should have been called Sancta Maria supra or sopra Isis and not attributed to
Minerva as the former temple to Minerva was on what is now the Piazza Collegio
Romano). In 1628 the Congregation of the Holy Office responsible for the
Inquisition was moved to the attached Convent of Minerva and it was here that
Galileo was tried for heresy and forced on pain of torture to ‘abjure, curse
and detest’ his defence of Copernican astronomical heliocentrism. Indeed
Cardinal Juan de Torquemada, the uncle of the infamous Grand Inquisitor in
Spain Tomás de Torquemada, both Dominicans, is buried in a small side chapel.
Once back into to the light
however, and onto the Piazza Minerva, it is the 1667 Bernini sculpture of an
elephant, surmounted by an Egyptian obelisk that captures one's attention. The
obelisk, found in 1665, is one of the many pairs of Egyptian obelisks erected
at the Temple of Isis (Obeliscus Isei Campensis) in the first to third centuries.
Elephant & Obelisk Piazza Minerva 1667
The Minerva obelisk is attributed to Pharaoh Apries (Wahibre Haaibre) the 4th
pharaoh (589 -570 BCE) of the 26th Dynasty. Apries was the Egyptian
monarch who failed to prevent the Babylonians under Nebuchadnezzar sacking
Jerusalem and carrying off the Jewish people into captivity. The obelisk was
originally erected at Sais on the lower Nile Delta, where there was a famous
medical school for women attached to the Temple of Isis in the 6th
century BCE, and moved to Rome by the Emperor Diocletian (retired 1 May 305).
Bernini’s sculpture is particularly fascinating as it is almost an exact imitation of one of the woodcuts in the
Hypnerotomachia Poliphili from 150 years earlier.
The smiling elephant is
thought to be about to defecate and in a strange way it reminded me of one of
Joyce’s other literary influences, Alfred Jarry the inventor of so-called Pataphysics.
Jarry a French absurdist/surrealist contemporary of Joyce who died from drugs
and alcohol use at the age of 34 in November 1907 (shortly after Joyce had
retreated from Rome back to Trieste), was the author of yet another
hallucinatory voyage, his post-mortem published Exploits and Opinions of Dr. Faustroll, Pataphysician (Paris instead of Dublin, Faustroll instead of Earwicker),
whose infamous play Ubu Roi opens with the word “Merdre!” And whose last wish
was for a toothpick! I cannot but
surmise than Joyce, with a greater curiosity than mine must in addition to Jarry's Faustroll also have embraced
the elephant and later the dream journey of Poliphilo.
For my own responses all I
could think of as I recirculated round the Piazza Minerva statue on
an October afternoon was of a childhood joke: What do you give an elephant with
diarrhoea? Answer: Plenty of Room.
Finnegan’s Wake is a bit
like that Bernini elephant, and like that childhood elephant joke it must be
given plenty of room, a Lucretian swerve as it were, avoiding like any good
dream lover real engagement lest you fall into the void.
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