First Foot

‘…According to local folklore the first foot was planted on Irish soil at Donemark on the shores of Bantry Bay in 2680 BC…’

Ireland’s first arrivals passed by this pebble beach on their way to Donemark

This statement (from Fuchsia Brand’s leaflet on Heritage) was guaranteed to send me scurrying for my history books. And – yes – I found many references to the event: an event which, to my mind, was surely one of special significance for Ireland: the first human ever to have set foot in this land – it must have deserved commemoration… Surely, there must at the very least be a plaque marking the spot? For a moment I wondered if this could be the long sought explanation for the enigmatic piece of Rock Art that’s on display in Bristol’s Museum & Art Gallery – the carving is about the right age…

Bronze Age Footprints in Bristol’s museum

So, a similar example of Petrosomatoglyphia is what I was hoping to find on the shores of Bantry Bay, a mere stone’s throw from our home here in Cappaghglass. But – before that expedition – let’s just go back to the history for the moment. Back – in fact – to the Lebor Gabála Érenn (The Book of the Taking of Ireland), which was written down in the 11th century and – allegedly – based on earlier source material. It takes a bit of wading through: I used a commentary edited and translated by R A Stewart Macalister and published by the Irish Texts Society in Dublin in 1938, but it’s well worth the effort. There’s a lot I had never understood before about the earliest history of the people of Ireland.

It’s a long story… The book is a collection, in five protracted parts, of all the poems and traditions which had been written and learned by the Bards, telling the history of their nation. There’s a lot of repetition: like the Gospels there are several versions of each episode and it’s a bit dizzying to try to get a clear overall picture of events. So, settle down and imagine the visiting Bard you have given hospitality to in your tower house on a winter’s night is regaling you with tales of your ancestors.

A Meeting of Bards (at Boscawen-Un Stone Circle, West Penwith, Cornwall)

Everything has to go back to Noah, who was only allowed to take with him on the Ark his own sons and their wives. One of his sons, Bith, had a daughter – Cesaire (or Cessair). As she had to stay behind so also did her father, but they built their own ships, three of them, and set sail with two other men and a large company of women, looking for a land which ‘knew no sin’ because it had never been populated: there they would settle and aim to re-found the human race in a green and fertile place. Their voyaging took them to many parts of the known world and they came eventually to the north of Spain – which we know today as Celtic Galicia. Cesaire knew that this wasn’t the Utopia they were seeking but she climbed to the top of a very tall tower and, in the far distance, she spotted Ériu – ‘…where no evil or sin had been committed, and which was free from the world’s reptiles and monsters…’

Cesaire would have needed a tower like this to catch a glimpse of Ireland from northern Spain…

And so it was, forty years before the Great Flood engulfed everything, Cesaire’s expedition sailed up to the mouth of the Mealagh River, passing on the way the most beautiful landscapes they had ever seen – landscapes that we are fortunate to see every time we set out to explore our own new horizons.

Bantry Bay – the landscape today

Now it was time to glimpse for ourselves this remarkable site – Dún na mBarc – the place of the boat – (Donemark -Dunnamark Townland) in the parish of Kilmocomogue. We drove up the unremarkable N71 through Bantry town and turned in to its attractively situated golf course, then made our way down to the shore. Disappointingly, that is also unremarkable: it’s got a brooding, although not unattractive atmosphere about it. We came there at low tide and saw mud-flats – alive with foraging birds, including a very fine Old Nog – the huge stones of a disintegrating quay, and distant views to the Sheep’s Head and Beara Peninsulas.

Landing Place? At Donemark

Old Quay at Donemark

Alas, there were no footprints, no plaque, no signification of the very important history of this site: there was only our imagination to fill in the gaps. I could envisage Cesaire’s Bronze Age boat (only one survived the full journey) making its way up the azure waters admiring the emerald green of the landscape and passing by some of Ireland’s most dramatic scenery. They landed on ‘…a Saturday, the fifteenth day of the moon at Dun na mBarc…’

Mountains of West Cork

We did find a single commemoration of this event: in the tranquil gardens of the National Learning Network Centre, which is not far from the mouth of the river. It is a work of art, made in 2013 by the students of the Centre, under the guidance of Michael Ray and the auspices of the West Cork Arts Centre – you may remember both from this recent post. ‘Voyage of Stories’ recalls that pioneering arrival in the form of a boat sculpture made of steel, copper and glass and set up over a pool. The glass tiles tell of invasions and emigrations both ancient and modern in Irish and English. It’s a good way to commemorate the journey and those early settlers, we thought.

‘Voyage of Stories’ at Donemark

Now, Finola – at my side and wearing her Archaeologist’s hat – is tutting at my unquestioning acceptance of the dating of this milestone in Ireland’s history, bearing in mind that the passage graves at Newgrange, Knowth and Dowth appear to be some 5,000 years old and – she says – there were people living in Ireland earlier than that! But my view is that there’s history, and there’s story… Well, perhaps history is always someone else’s story but give me a good tale any day, especially one woven with adventure and romance and told at the fireside.

Family Life (Caleb Bingham 1845) New Orleans Museum of Art

So now you know all about Cesaire, who was the first to step from that frail vessel which had travelled all the way from Egypt in those far off days. But perhaps I should also tell you a little more: the three men on that voyage faced the prospect of serving no less than fifty women between them if they were to populate this new land. The Lebor Gabála Érenn is quite frank about this: ‘… Ladra, the pilot, from whom is Ard Ladrann named he is the first dead man of Ireland before the flood. He died of excess of women, or it is the shaft of the oar that penetrated his buttock. Whatever way it was, however, that Ladra is the first dead man in Ireland…’ while Bith – Cesaire’s father – was already aged before the voyage and also passed away soon after. That left one man – Fionntán – who was so frightened by the prospect of facing all those women alone that he ran away and hid in a cave. There he changed into a Salmon and survived the Flood which, sadly, overcame Cesaire and her companions. The shape-shifting Fionntán went on to live for five and a half thousand years (by my reckoning that means he’s still alive!) and recorded all of Ireland’s history (including at first hand the account of Cesaire’s voyage) – which he then taught to the Bards of Ireland so that it would be taken out into the world…

But all that is for another day!

Posted on February 22, 2015February 22, 2015
29 Comments

When is a castle..?

Leamcon Castle (Black Castle)

…not a castle?

Answer: When it’s a Tower House. Maybe.

Harold Leask first published his classic Irish Castles in 1941, and it was subsequently revised and reprinted several times. My own copy was bought in the late 60s and accompanied me to Canada and back. Leask’s book was the first comprehensive work on the subject – a work of erudition but thoroughly readable with charming pen-and-ink illustrations.

My battered copy

Illustration from Leask’s Irish Castles

Leask insisted on the use of the term tower houses for small simple castles and described them thus:

They are simple oblongs with four walls, subtly battered, rising sheerly from a bold base-batter, to parapets which are crenellated in the Irish fashion. A small turret, at one corner, generally above the staircase, rises to a greater height than the rest of the building, while within the parapets are the two gables of the roof. Very often a small machicolation projects from the parapet and commands the entrance doorway below…

Ardintenant Castle (White Castle). It sits on top of an earlier ring fort.

In researching for this post the other main source I consulted was a doctoral thesis by Mark Wycliffe Samuel, The Tower Houses of West Cork. More recent (1998), it concentrated on the castles of this area and is packed with detail about the ones we see around us here in Roaringwater Bay and on the Mizen Peninsula, from Baltimore (Dún na Séad) in the east, to Cape Clear Island (Dún an Óir) to the south and Three Castle Head (Dunlough) to the west.

Dunlough Castle, known as Three Castle Head

Dunlough Castle, at Three Castle Head

These simple towers were quite different from the enormous and elaborate military castles that cemented Anglo-Norman power all over Ireland after the invasion of 1169, such as Trim in County Meath, or Cahir in Tipperary. Tower houses were built in what Leask calls a ‘great building revival’ from about 1440 into the 1600s. In what may be the forerunner of the European Grants system, Leask says many of the earliest ones were built as ‘£10 Castles’. A statute of 1429 offered every liege man of our Lord the King…who chooses to build a castle or tower sufficiently embattled or fortified..to wit twenty feet in length sixteen feet in width and forty feet in height or more, that the Commons of the said counties shall pay to the said person to build the said castle or tower ten pounds by way of subsidy. Although this statute seems to have been applicable only in certain counties (mainly around the Pale) it established a pattern for tower building which was adopted, with variations, all over Ireland.

Dunmanus Castle

The Roaringwater Bay and Mizen towers fit this pattern very well. They were not, however, built by the Anglo-Normans – West Cork was too remote and beyond their reach. They were built by the great Irish chiefs of the O’Mahoney, the McCarthy and the O’Driscoll clans and probably replaced earlier strongholds such as promontory forts (as at Dunlough), large ring forts (Ardintenant) and stone forts/cashels (such as the one at Knockdrum). These chiefs became wealthy through their control of the fisheries, through piracy, and through tribute exacted from those who occupied their traditional territory. At least one of them (Rossbrin) became famous as a centre of learning and scholarship during this time. Of the ones I will describe in this post, all are situated at the sea. or close to it, with commanding views over their territory and sometimes within sight of each other.

Leamcon, known as Black Castle. Notice the base-batter in this picture and the first one below. The lowest level is the widest (battered) with the walls sloping in above this base

The power of these great Irish households lasted until the 1601 battle of Kinsale when the Irish forces under Hugh O’Donnel and Hugh O’Neill (with Spanish help) were defeated and an enormous re-conquest and re-colonisation began under Elizabeth and continued unabated under the Stuarts and, most disastrously, under Cromwell.

Leamcon, first floor (raised) entrance directly aboove ground floor

Dunmanus, the first floor entrance is offset, or staggered.

Wide enough for a cow: Dunmanus ground floor entrance

Each tower in this area was built in the same manner, which Samuel refers to as the Raised Entrance type of tower. There were two entrances, one on the ground floor and one on the first floor. The ground floor room was for cattle and the doorway was therefore as wide as would admit a cow.

A glimpse inside the raised entrance at Ardintenant

The raised entrance (directly above it, or staggered to the left or right) was only wide enough to admit one person at a time – a defensive feature. This entrance either led into the first floor room or (since the ground floor room could have a lofty ceiling) onto a landing where a staircase led up to this room and then continued up through the wall (usually the thickest wall of the tower) to the upper floors. The first floor room was mainly used for storage and had either no windows or very small slits.

Dunmanus, with its additional turret. The top windows were always the largest.

Dunmanus, with its base-batter and additional turret. The top windows were always the largest

The second floor room was often the principle chamber, where all the main activities of the family took place – living, eating, meeting, administrating, celebrating (music and poetry were highly prized by these chieftains). If there was a third floor it contained the solar, or private chambers for the women of the household.

Barrel vaulted ground floor room at Dunmanus. Note access to stairwell.

Construction techniques varied – some were superbly constructed of cut stone while others used a lot of rubble to build up the insides of walls. Putlogs, or holes where scaffolding timbers were insert, are clearly visible in several of the towers. The lowest floors were of course the thickest – the base-batter provided a solid foundation and the walls sloped inwards from it. The top of the tower allowed for thinner walls, and therefore also bigger windows (although none were large).

Leamcon: putlogs visible in the wall.

Leamcon windows first and second floors

A garderobe (toilet) was a feature of the top two floors, with a chute out to the outer walls. In towers with additional turrets (Kilcoe, Dunmanus, Leamcon) the garderobe and sleeping chambers were sometimes contained in that turret, or the spiral stairs wound up through it. While most towers had stone spiral or straight staircase, some appeared to access each floor by means of ladders – there is no evidence for permanent wooden staircases.

Ruins of Rossbrin, showing the stairway cavity and a large press

Dunmanus window embrasure

Smaller tower at Ardintenant: excellent cut stone work and a double arched window embrasure

The ground floor room (the byre) was often vaulted and this feature is still clearly visible in the most intact towers. Above that, the floors were of timber, sometimes with trapdoors for lifting up supplies. Presses (cupboards) consisting of niches in the walls may have contained lanterns or have been used to store valuable items.

Two smaller towers: Rincolisky

and Oldcourt

There were no fireplaces in these towers. Fires were lit on flagstones laid on the wooden floors and the smoke rose to the tall ceilings and escaped out the small windows. In addition to this level of discomfort there is a contemporary account (quoted by Leask) which describe the primitive living arrangements in some of the towers: They have little furniture, and cover their rooms with rushes, of which they make their beds in summer and straw in winter. They put rushes a foot deep on their floors and on their windows [embrasure floors?], and many of them ornament their ceilings with branches.

Dunbeacon: strategic location

Dunbeacon: all that’s left

But not all chieftains lived in a primitive way. Samuel uses the available evidence to construct a picture of life at Togher, one of the towers he studied, and it’s not hard to picture Fineen O’Mahoney, Scholar Prince of Rossbrin, in such a setting.

We can form a picture of the principal chamber in use: Tadhg an dúna or Togher’s principal chamber was probably furnished with imported furniture, pewter plate and cutlery and was panelled with ornately carved timber. His family, his bard, …clerk, lawyer, priest and physician, as well as members of the derbfine [extended clan] such as cavalrymen could eat there. They could sit with the chieftain to one side of the principal salt cellar, while others sat ‘below’ it… Servants prepared food out of sight ‘below stairs’. Bardic musicians, soothsayers, gamblers and others would be admitted as honoured guests, but the household ward and servants ate in the kitchen/ward room.

Although its name means Fort of Gold, today Dún an Óir on Cape Clear Island looks remote and forbidding

Similarly, Dún na Séad (Fort of the Jewels) Castle in Baltimore, seat of the wealthy O’Driscolls (they also had Dún an Óir (Fort of Gold) on Cape Clear Island), was

…a centre of administration for trading activities and collection of taxes from foreign traders frequenting the port. In the middle and later-middle ages therefore, the O’Driscolls enjoyed a prosperous lifestyle. Lavish gatherings took place in the ‘great hall’ of Dún na Séad castle and a well-documented feast in 1413 is said to be one of the earliest records of people dancing in Ireland. This documentary evidence is supported by archaeological finds from recent excavations of the Dún na Séad site, which reveal the presence of late twelfth to fourteenth century pottery from the Saintonge region of France, and reflect the lucrative trade links between Baltimore and Europe at this time.

Dún na Séad Castle, Baltimore. Note corner machicolation.

Defensive features were built into all the towers. Besides raised and restricted doorways and hard-to-manoeuvre narrow or spiral staircases, all had a roof ‘wall walk’. Three of the towers (Dún an Oir, Kilcoe and Leamcon) are either inaccessible or accessible by a bridge and there is evidence that connecting ground was deliberately demolished to accomplish this. Windows were small and could be boarded up. Projecting machicolations, especially above entrances or at corners were used, as can be seen at Dún na Séad Castle in Baltimore. Crenellations (notched or serrated ramparts) look like our traditional ideas of battlements. At Kilcoe they may have helped that castle withstand over a year of attack and siege after the Battle of Kinsale.

Kilcoe Castle. Note crenellated battlements and pitched roof

So, should we call them Tower House, or Castles? How about £10 Castles? Archaeologists and historians prefer the more exact phrase tower houses, but castles they are on the maps and in our everyday speech. And if, like us, you are lucky enough to have one in your view, castles they are in our hearts and minds.

Our view to Rossbrin Castle

Posted on February 15, 2015April 22, 2018
27 Comments

A Lick of Paint

What does it mean to say that a house is “set well into the landcape?” On the West Coast of Canada, where I used to live, it usually meant that a house was invisible, often made of wood and blending into the trees. But here in rural West Cork, buildings are more assertive – we ARE the landscape, they seem to say, or at least an important part of it. Therefore we should stand out and be seen. Part of being seen, for many houses in the countryside, is choosing a bright colour. Ah sure, they say, all it needs is a lick of paint.

Crookhaven

I’ve written before about the colourful towns and villages dotted all over Ireland. Coming around a bend in the road and catching sight of a village is a cheering experience: flashes of colour spread in a line across a backdrop of green fields or rugged mountains. But colour isn’t confined to towns – farmhouses in the deep countryside can suddenly demand attention – pops of colour in a predominantly green terrain.

On the Sheep’s Head*

Best face forward

Blue seems to be a favourite – and we are not talking here about a pale blue or grey blue. No – duck egg or cobalt blues predominate. The blue is weathering and fading a bit in the house below but it still packs a punch in its isolated setting.

So blue

Wonder who would answer

Sometimes blue is used on one side of the house only, or on selective aspects – a gate post or a shutter.

Seen better days

Love the yellow beak!

One of my favourites is this house, the colour of a ripe apricot. It is visible from a long way off and always seems to be incandescent on its hillside, as if permanently lit by a setting sun. Close up, I found it has jade green trim, making it even more handsome than it appears from a distance.

That colour is also one of the most recognisable in West Cork because it’s the colour of Jeremy Irons’ Kilcoe Castle. When the castle was being rendered, Irons used a lime mortar in order to waterproof the masonry: the mortar has a distinctive peach tone. Although controversial at the time, it is fair to say that West Cork folk have come to enjoy the sight of this wonderful restored 13th Century castle permanently glowing on its tiny island.

Kilcoe Castle

Pinks range from soft and pastel to the colour of fuchsia.

Wild roses

Fuschia

I particularly like the pink-on-pink trim of the farmhouse below left, and the candy-coloured house with its blue trim.

Pink on pink

Good enough to eat

Yellow shows up well against a green hill. The first house below belongs to our friends the Camiers, who run the marvellous Gortnagrough Folk Museum. The second one is on the Sheep’s Head (photo by Amanda Clarke).

Gortnagrough

Sheep’s Head Farmhouse*

There are shades of salmon and coral that seem to suit old houses very well. Left, below, is the old school house in Rossbrin, now a private residence, and right is the Ballydehob Rectory, particularly attractive with its green trim.

Old schoolhouse

Rectory

I’ve found red to be reserved mostly for doors, trim and spot colour, but my friend Amanda Clarke found this old farmhouse on the Sheep’s Head. Take a look at her site, Sheep’s Head Places for examples of vernacular farm buildings.

Old farmhouse, Sheep’s Head*

Renovations never stop – I did wonder what colour this one would end up. Now I know!

Going through the spectrum

But this one, unless miracles happen, will see no more paint. Then again, it’s right beside a holy well, so maybe…

Generations of colour

*Many thanks to Amanda Clarke for the use of the asterisked photographs

Posted on February 15, 2015February 11, 2021
15 Comments

A Murmuration

We stood still and listened: the air was filled with humming – Bees swarming in February? But no… it was the murmuring of the pilgrims saying the decades of the Rosary by the grave of St Gobnait…

Making the Rounds at Saint Gobnait's Shrine on the Feast Day — *Making the Rounds at Saint Gobnait’s Shrine on the Feast Day*

We travelled up into the Muskerry Gaeltacht on Wednesday – 11 February: the Feast Day of Saint Gobnait. It’s a fair journey, and we felt that we had really gone into another world: we crossed over the Mountain of the Fairy – that’s my interpretation of the Shehy Mountains (Shee is Fairy) – others say the Irish Cnoic na Síofra means ‘hills of the animal hides’. For the first time in my life somebody – a passer by – addressed me in Irish… “An bhfuil hata agat le spáráil?” they said – “Have you got a hat to spare?” (I think it was a wry comment about the headgear I was wearing on the day).

Our goal was Saint Gobnait’s Church in Ballyvourney, where the Mass was to be heard celebrated in Irish. Also, we wanted to see the 13th century wooden statue which is brought in to the church on this day. When we arrived there was already a queue to buy ribbons and ‘measure’ them against the statue. In fact, it was quite an intricate ritual: first you wrapped your ribbons around the neck of the statue, then around the feet. Some did the same around the stomach – others passed the ribbons under the body of the statue and rubbed them along the surface. Many people kissed the statue and some picked it up and made the sign of the cross with it. We joined in and came away with a clutch of ribbons, now blessed by Saint Gobnait and imbued with health-giving and good-fortune-bringing properties.

Making the 'Measures' — *Making the ‘Measures’*

The church was completely full for the Mass (it was also broadcast outside), which was celebrated by two Priests and a very robust men’s choir – beautiful singing in Irish. It was an uplifting experience, even though I hardly understood a word. A friendly atmosphere imbued all who were there, and excitement was in the air. Afterwards, we visited the statue again and then headed for Saint Gobnait’s Holy Well, her grave and the ruins of her ancient church, where the ‘Rounds’ were being performed all day. That’s when we heard the humming – it should have been Bees: this Saint has always been associated with them, and her statue which overlooks the pilgrimage site (and which was carved by Seamus Murphy in 1950) is decorated with Bees and with a Deer. This is also part of her story: when she was travelling through Ireland looking for a site to establish her community she was told she must continue on her way until she met with nine white Deer. She found them in Ballyvourney and that’s why in our time the little settlement flourishes on this February day.

We heard that there is another Holy Well, hidden in the woods just outside the town and seldom visited. This is known as Tobar Abán – Saint Abban’s Well. That saint seems to be closely associated with Saint Gobnait although not much is known about the lives of either of them – they lived back in the sixth century.

A visit to the Post Office provided us with the information we needed to get to this intriguing sacred site: walk over the bridge, go into the fields and look for a lone oak tree on the distant boundary – this marks the point where a trackway leads up through the woods. We made our way across a muddy pasture; the oak tree was prominent enough, and the track – but once inside the wood everything was quite densely overgrown. We would never have found it without the instructions, but we also had the help of red and white ribbons tied to trees and posts in strategic places – they had been there for some time: we wondered who set them up?

Tobar Abán is a wonderful site – a lonely outpost of religious sanctity but, for me, probably the most beautiful of all the holy places I have visited in Ireland so far. It’s an unexpected find: set away from everything, deep in an ancient oak wood, silent, still – one could imagine that it has always been like this, passing through generations of turbulent history and yet untroubled by it. Archaeologically it appears to be a cist with a cairn of stones built around it: this would imply pre-Christian origins. The lid of the cist (a burial chamber or repository for bones) is not visible – possibly it is under the large ballaun stone which rests on top. Above this is a small, relatively modern concrete cross embellished with offerings, beads and ribbons: other icons and objects are scattered around the site. The whole mound has a boundary defined by three standing stones, one of which is inscribed with ogham. Everything is covered in a layer of moss which seemed to exude a luminescence in the moist shade of the wood.

Saint Abban (or Abbán moccu Corbmaic) seems to have been active in many parts of Ireland, and tradition has it that he lived for three hundred years. The stories that are important here are the ones that link him with Saint Gobnait. It has been said that he founded a monastery in Ballyvourney before she arrived, and that he was her mentor and gave the foundation to her. Some say that Abban and Gobnait were brother and sister. Most important, perhaps, is the tradition that Abban had a cell or church just outside Ballyvourney and that he was buried in that cell when he died in 520. Could it be his grave that we found?

Saint Abban's Shrine - cell - or grave? — *Saint Abban’s Shrine – cell – or grave?*

Saint Abban’s Well is a little distance from the cist, and is quite unassuming, especially compared to the elaborate wells around Saint Gobnait’s old church. It is merely an opening in a rock set in the ground: an old tray covers it and keeps the leaves out, and a wooden box beside it contains some cups and plastic bottles for collecting the water.

Tobar Aban - Saint Abban's Well — *Tobar Abán – Saint Abban’s Well*

As we were making our way back across the fields we were surprised to see a lady in a red coat walking with a stick towards us. “Did you find it?” she asked. We assured her we had found the well and the shrine. “And did you see his bones?” she continued, “Last time I was there I lifted up the lid and saw the Saint’s bones inside…” We watched her go off towards the woods; when I looked back again she had disappeared.

There’s so much about the day: the journey across the Mountain of the Fairy; the Irish Mass and the ritual of the ribbons involving a 13th century wooden figure; the Rounds and the humming of the Saint’s Bees; the magical shrine in the woods – and I really do wonder about that lady in the red coat…

Posted on February 8, 2015February 9, 2015
7 Comments

The Irish Valentine

February evening in Rossbrin Cove

I was surprised to discover Saint Valentine in Ireland…

You mean in a card shop – or a flower shop?

No – I mean the real Saint Valentine – his remains are in the Church of Our Lady of Mount Carmel in Whitefriars Street, Dublin: we were there last week.

That can’t be true – Saint Valentine was a Roman – martyred, I believe, in the 3rd Century.

He was, of course: Emperor Claudius had him beaten to death and then beheaded on 14th February 269. Valentine and another Saint, Marius, had secretly married young couples, which was against the law.

Why was it against the law?

Because Claudius II (Claudius the Cruel) was engaged in many bloody and unpopular campaigns and was having a difficult time getting soldiers to join his military forays. He believed that the reason was that Roman men did not want to leave their lovers or families. As a result, Claudius cancelled all marriages and engagements in Rome.

So it’s because of Valentine’s clandestine activities that he is the patron saint of love?

That’s certainly a possibility. There are many other things associated with Saint Valentine’s Day which may have contributed to its continuing celebration.

Such as?

In ancient Rome, 14th February was a holiday to honour Juno – the Queen of the Roman Gods and Goddesses, also known as the Goddess of women and marriage. The following day, 15th February, began the Feast of Lupercalia. On the eve of that festival the names of Roman girls were written on slips of paper and placed into jars. Each young man would draw a girl’s name from the jar and they would then be partners for the duration of the festival.

Let’s get back to Saint Valentine in Ireland…

Well, it all centres around a famous Irish preacher, John Spratt. It was he who built the Whitefriars Street Church. He went to Rome in 1835 where ‘…the elite of the city flocked to hear him and he received many tokens of esteem from the doyens of the Church…’ One such token was given by Pope Gregory XVI: the remains of Saint Valentine!

Is this genuine?

It seems to be. The Pope also sent with the relics a letter of authenticity, written in Latin, which still exists:

‘…To all and everyone who shall inspect these our present letters, we certify and attest, that for the greater glory of the omnipotent God and veneration of his saints, we have freely given to the Very Reverend Father Spratt, Master of Sacred Theology of the Order of Calced Carmelites of the convent of that Order at Dublin, in Ireland, the blessed body of St Valentine, martyr, which we ourselves by the command of the most Holy Father Pope Gregory XVI on the 27th day of December 1835, have taken out of the cemetery of St Hippolytus in the Tiburtine Way, together with a small vessel tinged with his blood and have deposited them in a wooden case covered with painted paper, well closed, tied with a red silk ribbon and sealed with our seals and we have so delivered and consigned to him, and we have granted unto him power in the Lord, to the end that he may retain to himself, give to others, transmit beyond the city (Rome) and in any church, oratory or chapel, to expose and place the said blessed holy body for the public veneration of the faithful…’

That’s remarkable. This must be a very popular shrine?

Nowadays it is – but no one was very interested in it in the time of Father Spratt and the relics were put away in a cupboard and forgotten.

Until?

Until around 1950 when the present altar and shrine were constructed to house them. The statue of Saint Valentine that is there now was carved by Irene Broe and depicts him in the red vestments of a martyr and holding a crocus in his hand.

The Saint…

…and his shrine in Dublin

What happens there on the Saint’s Day?

Couples come to the Eucharistic celebrations which include a Blessing of Rings for those about to be married. On the feast-day, the Reliquary is removed from beneath the altar and is placed before the high altar in the church and there venerated at Mass.

Saint Valentine by Jacopo dal Ponte

You must have a legend about Saint Valentine?

A rather nice one, actually – and it explains the crocus…

When Valentine was imprisoned in Rome for his Christian beliefs his jailer had a daughter – Julia – who had been born blind. The jailer asked Valentine if he could cure the blindness. Valentine couldn’t promise this, but he did offer to teach the girl: he read stories of Rome’s history to her; he described the world of nature to her; he taught her arithmetic and told her about God. She saw the world through his eyes, trusted in his wisdom, and found comfort in his quiet strength.

On the eve of his execution Valentine asked the jailer for a paper, pen and ink. He wrote a farewell note and handed it to the jailer to give to Julia. He urged her to stay close to God, and he signed it ‘…From Your Valentine…’ His sentence was carried out the next day, 14th February. When the jailer went home, he was greeted by his blind daughter. The little girl opened the note and discovered a yellow crocus inside. As the girl looked down at the crocus she saw brilliant colours for the first time in her life! The girl’s eyesight had been restored.

That’s wonderful! So now I can tell everyone that St Valentine’s resting place is in the Emerald Isle…

Well….

Yes?

Well, perhaps you ought to know that the remains of St Valentine are also said to be held in Rome, Prague, Poland, France, Vienna, Malta, Glasgow, Birmingham (UK) and even in Missouri – among other places…

Saint Ferdinand’s, Florissant, Missouri also claims relics of Saint Valentine

Saint Ferdinand’s, Florissant, Missouri also claims to hold relics of Saint Valentine

Oh no! That certainly puts a dampener on Ireland’s claim.

Not really – it’s certainly not unusual for a Saint’s relics to be spread around Christendom: a little veneration goes a long way.

Has anyone ever looked inside the reliquary in Whitefriars, Dublin?

No – it was a condition of the gift that the seals should never be broken, and they haven’t. Personally, I’m very happy with the idea that St Valentine – or some of him at least – rests contentendly there: I shall visit him whenever I’m passing

An Post Valentine stamp for 2015

Posted on February 1, 2015February 1, 2015
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Raw Material

The art of building: West Cork Arts Centre on opening day

On the last day of January (traditionally the last day of winter and St Brigid’s Eve) the new West Cork Arts Centre opened its first exhibition in Skibbereen. We have taken a great interest in this building during its construction: the very strong architecture has aroused a lot of negative comment in the community, but now that it is virtually complete the general view of it seems to be mellowing a little. For my pennyworth this bold, modern insertion into the townscape has provided Skibbereen with a new visual focus and with great potential for a successful future.

A specially commissioned glass sculpture by Michael Ray graces the entrance hall, and incorporates the names of sponsors of the building

A specially commissioned glass sculpture by Michael Ray graces the entrance hall, and incorporates the signatures of sponsors of the building

The name of this new building is Uillinn – it means ‘elbow’, a reference to the angled plan of the building and its cantilevered location over a bend in the Caol Stream that snakes through the town’s back yard. Dublin based Architects Donaghy and Dimond won the international design competition in 2009: have a look at their plans for the building here.

One of the exhibits is titled ‘Flying Colours’ and is a project by the West Cork Education Centre in collaboration with local Primary School children: stairways and circulation spaces in the new centre are alive with colour and creativity. How wonderful that these children can feel they have played such a significant part in this new venture.

The fabric of the building is lively and well considered

This building simmers with potential: the gallery spaces and facilities are impressive and architectural elements are well detailed. Skibbereen has been given a high quality civic building that will last for generations: it’s now got to be used creatively.

Sam Thorne

It’s no coincidence that one of the speaking guests at the opening was Sam Thorne, artistic director of the Tate St Ives Gallery in Cornwall. Comparison between West Cornwall and West Cork is inevitable: both regions have a history of attracting artists because of the very particular light that comes from close proximity to the Atlantic coastline. Also, artists have been drawn to these places because of enduring lifestyles that are simple, basic and close to nature. Thorne made the perhaps surprising statement that West Cork is home to more artists per capita than both Paris and London.

‘Blinkers’ – Angela Fulcher 2015

Sam Thorne said that having a community of artists contributes all kinds of different aspects to a region. One of the simple ones is tourism. “That’s been a really important thing in St Ives over the past two decades,” he said. “The gallery contributes £11m (€14.6m) every year to the local economy in St Ives – three times that which was anticipated when the gallery opened… So there’s a very real powerful impact that having artists there, having art there, creates for the community.” He added that the St Ives Gallery now needs to extend its buildings and anticipates over £80m coming into the local coffers over the next few years.

Phenomenal success: the Tate Gallery, St Ives, Cornwall

I spent many years in Cornwall and watched the development of the Tate Gallery in St Ives. It has become a year-round tourist destination: in all seasons – and in all weathers – the streets of the little town are crowded with visitors who are, of course, using the local shops, b + bs and restaurants. It has also created problems: overloaded car parks, strained infrastructure. But surely this is better than closed shops and failing businesses?

Of course, Skibbereen is not St Ives – and our Arts Centre doesn’t have the backing of a body like the Tate, with its enormous resources of historical art. But there are great possibilities nevertheless: Ireland has a wonderful art heritage, much of which is seldom seen outside of the big city galleries. And there are strong links between Irish artists and Britain which could be delved into. Think of the Newlyn School artists – Alexander Stanhope Forbes and Norman Garstin were both Irish; Cornwall was also home to Breon O’Casey and Tony O’Malley. Other artists moved from Cornwall to the west of Ireland, including Nancy Wynne-Jones, Conor Fallon and – mentioned above – Michael Ray.

Impressive gallery spaces call for dynamic works

The St Ives Tate works so well because it is able to show the ‘big names’ – but it also encourages young and local artists, whose output often interacts with the historically established works. There is no reason why the Skibbereen centre couldn’t build on similar links: wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could see paintings by the likes of Jack B Yeats, Paul Henry, Sara Purser or Daniel Maclise on our doorstep – complimented, of course, by the very best of home grown talent? The ‘big names’ would be the crowd-pullers – at least initially: these are the building blocks for forging a lasting reputation.

Works in progress: the centre contains studios and workshops

The new building still awaits its official opening: this will happen in the summer and the President of Ireland – Michael D Higgins – will have that honour: a scoop for Skibbereen! The Board of the West Cork Arts Centre – and the sponsors and donors – have moved mountains to realise the vision of this building. Now it’s down to creativity and dynamism from the team – and to enthusiasm and encouragement from us, the visitors, whose support is vital to this building’s future success.

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