Proinsias Ó Conluain in Árainn, 1949

Ceiliúrann blag na míosa seo taispeántas úr atá seolta ag Cartlann RTÉ ina bhfuil ábhar sainiúil luachmhar as Árainn, ábhar a raibh lámh ag Proinsias Ó Conluain (1919-2013) ina bhailiú. Ba craoltóir agus scríbhneoir é Proinsias a bhain leis an Aonad clúiteach Taistil a bhunaigh Raidió Éireann i 1947. Is thar cheann an aonaid sin a thug Proinsias cuairt ar Árainn don chéad uair i mí na Samhna 1949. Seo mar a tharla...

Thograigh beirt léiritheoir de chuid an chainéil raidió BBC Third Programme – an file W.R. Rodgers agus an t-údar David Thomson – ábhar cláir a thaifead in Éirinn agus d’iarr siad cúnamh ó Raidió Éireann. Nuair nach raibh an píobaire cáiliúil Séamus Mac Aonghusa ar fáil, b’é Proinsias Ó Conluain a d’imigh leo ar an gcoinníol go mbeadh ábhar cláir aigesean as an turas. Bhí suim mhór ag Bertie Rodgers ach go háirithe in Árainn mar gheall ar shaothar Synge. Ar Dé Céadaoin 16 Samhain, sheol siad ar bord an Dún Aengus as Gaillimh go hÁrainn áit gur chaith siad seachtain ag taifead. I gcaibidil dar teideal ‘Cín Lae Craoltóra’, rinne Ó Conluain cur síos iontach ar gach a thit amach i rith na seachtaine. Roinnim anseo blaiseadh beag dá chur síos toirtiúil.

 

BBC engineers Ron Partlin & Fred Cooper with father & son Beairtlín Bhaba Ó hIarnáin and Sonny Hernon, Cill Mhuirbhigh 16 November 1949. Photograph by David Thomson, courtesy of Martina Thomson.

Céadaoin 16 Samhain

Cill Rónáin. Teach tábhairne Mhic Dhonncha [Tí Joe Mac]. Daoine an-chineálta liom agus ag brú brandaí orm as siocair mé bheith tinn. ‘Socróidh sé an goile dhuit,’ adeir Paitín Ó Fátharta – agus shocraigh. Ach bhí a laghad sin spéis agam i gcúrsaí an tsaoil seo ar feadh tamaill gur fhág mé mo mhála i mo dhiaidh ar an bhád.

Déardaoin 17 Samhain

Oíche mhór ceoil agus amhránaíochta sa [Man of Aran] ‘cottage’. Ceig phórtair ar chuntas an BBC! Buicéad de i lár urlár na cistine – mé féin á dháileadh amach as crúiscín ar lucht ceoil nó ar dhuine ar bith a bhfuil tart air. Tréan fuisce le fáil sa control room taobh thiar, an áit a bhfuil na ceirníní á ngearradh. Ceol, comhrá, amhráin, agus damhsa go maidin.

Domhnach 20 Samhain

Seachghlórtha eile: curach ag teacht i dtír, maidí rámha ag gíoscarnach sna leapacha iomartha, bristeacha móra, capall Bheartlaidh ar sodar ar an bhóthar, clog an tséipéil ag bualadh...

     Cúpla rothar ar iasacht agam féin agus ag Bertie [Rodgers] ó mhuintir Johnston lenár dtabhairt ar ais go Cill Mhuirbhigh, ach is beag an mhaith anocht iad. An-drochoíche ann – fearthainn agus gaoth mhór – cuirtíní fearthainne crochta ar imeall an domhain.

     Gan focal as ceachtar againn ach sinn ag smaoineamh le tréan trua dúinn féin, ‘Dá bhfeicfeadh Londain nó Baile Átha Cliath anois muid – an cruatan atáimid sásta a fhulaingt ar mhaithe le clár a imeos le haer an tsaoil taobh istigh de leathuair an chloig!’

Luan 21 Samhain

Oíche: céilí sa ‘cottage’. Anois go díreach atáimid ag cur aithne i gceart ar na daoine. Ní hé go raibh siad fuar ná falsa faoi labhairt linn, ná faoi amhrán a chanadh, roimhe seo, ach is cairde anois sinn agus tráchtar go han-oscailte ar an uile ghné de shaol an oileáin.

Máirt 22 Samhain

Deir Pádraig Ó hEithir gur aithin sé gur stráinséirí a bhí chucu nuair a tháinig muid chun tí aréir a dhéanamh socruithe faoin chór – chuig doras na gaoithe a tháinig muid!

Céadaoin 23 Samhain

Cuimhním ar abairt de chuid Bhertie: “The sea a halter round men’s lives and the land a stone about their feet.”

Ach ní mar adhastar faoi shaol na ndaoine a chímse an fharraige timpeall Árann, ach mar mhachaire mór saoirse agus féiniúlachta, na carraigeacha faoina gcosa á ndaingniú agus á mbuanú sa dúchas.

Proinsias Ó Conluain. “Cín Lae Craoltóra.” In Written on the Wind: Personal Memories of Irish Radio 1926-76, ed. Louis McRedmond, 87-106. Dublin: RTÉ in association with Gill and Macmillan, 1976.

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This month’s blog celebrates the launch of a new online exhibition from the RTÉ Archives featuring unique and valuable material from Aran. Helping to collect this material was Proinsias Ó Conluain (1919-2013), a renowned broadcaster and writer who worked with the famed Mobile Recording Unit that Raidió Éireann set up in 1947. It was on behalf of the MRU that Ó Conluain first visited Aran in November 1949. The story goes that two BBC Third Programme producers – poet W.R. Rodgers and author David Thomson – wanted to record Irish material for broadcast and requested the assistance of Raidió Éireann. As the celebrated piper Séamus Ennis was unavailable, it was Ó Conluain who accompanied the BBC on condition that he too could collect material for broadcast on RÉ. Bertie Rodgers was drawn to Aran in particular because of the works of John Millington Synge. On Wednesday 16 November, they sailed aboard the Dún Aengus from Galway to Aran where they spent a week recording. In a chapter entitled ‘A Broadcaster’s Diary’, Ó Conluain gives a wonderful description of all that happened that week. This blog features just a flavour of his much longer description. I hope my translation does his original Irish justice.

Wednesday 16 November

Cill Rónáin. McDonagh’s pub [Tí Joe Mac]. People very kind to me and persuading me to imbibe brandy as I am sea-sick. ‘That will settle your stomach,’ said Paitín Ó Fátharta – and it did. But I was so disinterested in proceedings around me for a while that I left my bag behind me on the boat.

Thursday 17 November

A big night of music and song in the [Man of Aran] cottage. A keg of porter on the BBC’s tab! A bucket of it in middle of the kitchen floor – me doling it out from a little jug to musicians and anyone who is thirsty. Strong whiskey available in the control room behind, where the records are being cut. Music, talk, songs, and dancing until morning.

Sunday 20 November

More sound effects: a curragh coming ashore, oars squeaking in their oarlocks, great breakers, Beartlaidh’s horse trotting on the road, the church bell ringing…

     Some bikes loaned to Bertie and I by the Johnston family to bring us back to Cill Mhuirbhigh, but they are little good to us tonight. A very bad night – rain and high winds – curtains of squalls hanging at the edge of the world.

     Not a word from either of us as we wallow in self-pity, ‘If London or Dublin saw us now – the hardship we are willing to endure for the sake of a programme that will disappear into the ether within half an hour!’

Monday 21 November

Nightime : céilí in the cottage. It is only now that we are getting to know the people properly. Not that they were cold or false in speaking with us before, or in singing a song, but we are friends now and they speak very openly about every aspect of life on the island.

Tuesday 22 November

Pádraig Ó hEithir said he knew we were strangers arriving to the house last night to make arrangements about the choir – we came to the windward door!

Wednesday 23 November

I remember one of Bertie’s remarks: “The sea a halter round men’s lives and the land a stone about their feet.”

It is not as a halter around men’s lives that I see the sea around Aran, but as a great plain of freedom and identity, the rocks beneath their feet securing them, rooting them to their heritage.

Proinsias Ó Conluain. “Cín Lae Craoltóra.” In Written on the Wind: Personal Memories of Irish Radio 1926-76, ed. Louis McRedmond, 87-106. Dublin: RTÉ in association with Gill and Macmillan, 1976.

Mistéir na Ríleanna Glugair – The Outtake Mystery

Is iomaí cor sa saol, go mór mhór i saol an taighde. Chuir scéalta nua suimiúla spreagúla moill ar an mblagphosta seo agus, nuair a thosnaíos á scríobh, tháinig cor eile sa scéilín atá á roinnt agam libh anois.

Gheall mé mí Eanáir seo caite go mbeadh tuairisc eile agam daoibh ar Man of Aran. Thart ar 1972, mealladh an Meiriceánach George C. Stoney (1916-2012) go hÁrainn don gcéad uair. Theastaigh uaidh scéal neamhghnách a shinsir ansiúd (a mhínigh Tim Robinson sa leabhar Stones of Aran: Labyrinth, lgh.141-2) a fhiosrú. Ach, mar scannánóir cáiliúil faisnéise, mheall Man of Aran é freisin. I 1979, d’eisigh sé a scannán féin faoi dhéanamh scannán Uí Fhlaithearta, How the Myth Was Made. Sa scannán sin, feictear Stoney in éindí le Harry Watt – Sasanach a d’oibrigh mar chúntóir léiriúcháin ar Man of Aran – ag breathnú tríd an ábhar a bhí fágtha i dteachín an Man of Aran i gCill Mhuirbhigh ag Robert Flaherty i ndeireadh 1933. Féach anseo grianghraf de chriú fiosrach Stoney ag féachaint ar an sean-trealamh scannánaíochta – i bhfómhar 1976, is dóigh liom.

Ó chlé: Harry Watt, James Brown, agus Paul Barnes, c.1976. George C. Stoney a ghlac. Le caoinchead Documentary Educational Resources www.der.org

Sa teach an lá sin, d’aimsigh Stoney agus Watt ríleanna glugair de chuid Man of Aran. Roinn Stoney féin liom an scéal sular bhásaigh sé: seoladh iomlán an ábhair scannáin a frítheadh an uair úd go Stiúideó Ardmore i mBré, Co. Chill Mhantáin, ach, nuair a thug Stoney cuairt ar an ionad sin mí ina dhiaidh sin, dúradh leis gur caitheadh amach é trí thimpist – rud a chur díomá an domhain air, dar ndóigh.

Bronnann an scéilín seo comhthéacs úr ar ghrianghraf eile atá anois i gcartlann Getty Images, grianghraf a léiríonn go ndearna Flaherty iarracht bhreise an íomhá d’Árainn a bhí cruthaithe aige a smachtú: nuair a thug sé a chuairt dheireanach ar an oileán i Meán Fómhair 1949, dhóigh sé roinnt de na ríleanna glugair. Cérbh iad na radharcanna a ndearna sé iarracht a ghlanadh ó chuimhne na ndaoine? Agus cérbh iad na radharcanna nár mhiste leis go ndéanfaí a mheas mar chuid dá oidhreacht ealaíne?

Ach féach cor eile sa scéal. I gcaint dar teideal “Must a Filmmaker Always Leave His Mark?” a thug Stoney uaidh i mBealtaine 1978 san Astráil, dúirt sé:

Some 6,000 feet of outtakes were discovered in Dublin a few years ago by Alf MacLochlainn of Ireland’s National Library. These show Flaherty’s Aran characters going through all the necessary foolishness of making old-style films.

Is mó seans gur inis MacLochlainn féin do Stoney cad a bhí sna míreanna glugair seo. Ach ní fios go fóill céard a d’éirigh don ábhar sin ná cén fáth gur mhair sé tamall i mBaile Átha Cliath. Tá bailiúcháin ábharthacha sa Leabharlann Náisiúnta nach bhfuil cláraithe go hiomlán go fóill. Mar sin, ní féidir a bheith cinnte más ann atá siad anois nó nach ea. Leanfaidh an bhleachtaireacht!

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The twists and turns of the researching life have delayed this post but have also yielded some new, intriguing tales that I hope to share with you in due course. For now, here is a story I promised you last January, another chapter in the saga of Man of Aran.

Around 1972, the American film-maker George C. Stoney (1916-2012) visited Aran for the first time. He wanted to investigate the intriguing history of his ancestors there (outlined by Tim Robinson in Stones of Aran: Labyrinth, pp.141-2) but he was also lured by the film Man of Aran. In 1979, he released his own documentary on the making of Flaherty’s film, entitled How the Myth Was Made. In that film, we see Stoney and Harry Watt – an Englishman who worked as production assistant on Man of Aran – discovering materials that Flaherty had left behind in the Man of Aran cottage in Cill Mhuirbhigh in late 1933. This photograph shows Stoney’s inquisitive crew examining the old film equipment – in the autumn of 1976, I believe.

In the cottage that day, Stoney and Watt found outtake reels from Man of Aran. What happened next Stoney himself relayed to me before he died: the entirety of the film material they found was shipped to Ardmore Studios in Bray, Co. Wicklow, but, when he visited the studios a month later, he was told it had been accidentally disposed of – to his great dismay, naturally.

Stoney’s story gives new meaning to another photograph, which survives in the archives of Getty Images, a photograph showing Flaherty attempting once again to marshal his image of Aran: on his final visit to Aran in September 1949, he burned some of the outtake reels. So, what scenes did he try to wipe from local memory? And what scenes did he deem fit for inclusion in his artistic legacy?

There is yet another twist in the tale. In a lecture entitled “Must a Filmmaker Always Leave His Mark?” delivered in May 1978 in Canberra, Australia, Stoney said:

Some 6,000 feet of outtakes were discovered in Dublin a few years ago by Alf MacLochlainn of Ireland’s National Library. These show Flaherty’s Aran characters going through all the necessary foolishness of making old-style films.

It is more likely that MacLochlainn himself told Stoney what was in those outtake reels. However, it is, as yet, unknown what happened to that material or why it survived for a time in Dublin. There are some as yet unlisted materials in the National Library of Ireland that may hold the answers but, for the moment, the mystery remains – and the detective work continues!

An Liamhán Mór – Shark of Aran

Roinneann blag na míosa seo dhá íomhá speisialta a bhaineann le scéal an scannáin Man of Aran (1934), ceann de na mórshaothair ealaíne a spreag Árainn. Cé go n-aithnítear an stiúrthóir Robert J. Flaherty (1884-1951) mar athair na scannánaíochta faisnéise, is iomadh míchruinneas atá sa scannán, ina measc, seilg an liamháin mhóir, cleachtas a bhí gaibhte i léig in Árainn faoi 1932-3 nuair a rinneadh Man of Aran. Deirtear nár maraíodh aon liamhán gréine san oileán ó dheireadh an naoú céad déag ach d’fheil a leithéid d’eachtra go mór do phríomhsprioc Uí Fhlaithearta, b’í sin léargas a thabhairt ar an duine ag streachailt leis an nádúr, ag tabhairt dúshlán an fhiántais. Go deimhin, bhí Flaherty i ndiaidh seilg a áireamh cheana i scannán eile dá chuid, Nanook of the North (1922), seilg rosuailt. Mar sin, tugadh faoi aiséirí ar sheilg an liamháin mhóir in Árainn ar mhaithe le dráma Uí Fhlaithearta. D’aithin an comhlacht léirithe Gaumont-British Picture Corporation freisin an brabach a bhainfí as a leithéid de shuntas: mheallfadh radharcanna mórthaibhseacha na seilge siorca daoine isteach sa phictiúrlann mar a mheall Spielberg níos deireanaí lena scannán Jaws (1975).

 

Frances Flaherty a ghlac. Le caoinchead Mhuintir Uí Chonghaile.

Seo thuas grianghraf den tseilg a ghlac Frances Flaherty (1883-1972) agus a bhronn sise agus Robert ar an gCaptaen Meskill a bhí i gceannas ar an Dún Aengus, grianghraf sínithe a roinn an captaen le mo sheanmháthair Máire Gill (1913-1999) a d’oibrigh mar chócaire do na Flaitheartaigh fad is a bhí siad in Árainn. Tugann cuntóir Uí Fhlaithearta, Pat Mullen, le fios gur maraíodh roinnt mhaith liamhán agus gur baineadh ola as na haenna. Mar sin, ní fios cé acu liamhán a seoladh chuig seitheadóir agus a líonadh le stuáil. I Feabhra 1934, aistríodh liamhán mór stuáilte go Londain ar mhaithe le hiarrachtaí bholscaireachta an chomhlachta léirithe; spréach Flaherty nuair a chuala sé gur gearradh píosa as a bholg ionas go bhféadfaí é a chur i bhfuinneog an Gaumont-British Film House ar Shráid Wardour.

3 Feabhra 1934. Le caoinchead Independent Newspapers Ireland.

I ndiaidh chéadthaispeáint an scannáin i Londain ar 25 Aibreán 1934, coinníodh an liamhán i stór seitheadóra Edward Gerrard & Sons i gCamden go dtí gur chinn Gaumont-British an t-iasc a bhronnadh ar an uisceadán is sine ar domhain, Brighton Aquarium. B’í seo an tuairisc a roinn an Irish Times ar 1 Eanáir 1935:

A great fish weighing over two tons, the capture of which was included in the “Man of Aran” film, has been placed among the exhibits at the Brighton Aquarium, where it has proved an attractive addition to the specimens on view. It is to remain permanently at Brighton, and is known as the “Shark of Aran.” During the Christmas holidays many people – particularly those who had seen the film depicting its capture – have visited the aquarium to inspect the fish.

Is mar seo a chuimhníonn duine de phobal Bhrighton, Stevie Hobbs (b.1930), ar an iasc:

I know we often went to the Aquarium and I vaguely remember seeing a huge stuffed fish in the centre aisle but might not have taken much notice of it as I always wanted to see live fish. It was always dark in there and only the tanks were lit as far as I remember.

Mo léan, níl tásc ná tuairisc ar an liamhán anois. Ní heol d’uisceadán an lae inniu, Sea Life Brighton, cad a tharla dó. Tá daoine in Brighton ag fiosrú an scéil, ina measc, an banna ceoil British Sea Power, a d’eisigh albam dar teideal Man of Aran i 2009. Más eol d’aon duine cad a tharla do liamhán mór Árann, ba bhreá liom an scéal a chlos.

The Robert J. Flaherty Papers, Butler Library, Columbia University, New York; Arthur Calder-Marshall, The Innocent Eye: the life of Robert J. Flaherty (London: W.H. Allen, 1963); Pat Mullen, Man of Aran (New York: E.P. Dutton & Co., 1935).

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This month’s blog shares two images relating to one of the iconic works of the Aran canon, the 1934 film Man of Aran. Although the director Robert J. Flaherty (1884-1951) is widely hailed as the ‘father of documentary’, the film has its fair share of inaccuracies, including the hunting of basking sharks, a practice that had died out well before 1932-3 when Man of Aran was being made. It is said that no basking shark had been hunted in the islands since the nineteenth century but the inclusion of such an enthralling, spectacular scene suited Flaherty’s ultimate purpose, which was to depict the eternal, elemental struggle between man and nature. Indeed, Flaherty had included hunting (for walrus) in his earlier, similarly themed film Nanook of the North (1922), so the practice of hunting for basking shark was readily revived for Flaherty’s Aran drama. The production company Gaumont-British Picture Corporation also recognized the potential appeal of a shark hunt to cinema-goers, as did Spielberg later with his 1975 film Jaws.

Here is a photograph of the shark hunt that was taken by Frances Flaherty (1883-1972), which she and her husband Robert gifted to Captain Meskill, master of the Dún Aengus, a signed photograph that the captain later gave to my grandmother Máire Gill (1913-1999) who worked as cook for the Flaherty family during their sojourn in Aran. Flaherty’s right-hand-man Pat Mullen reveals that they killed many sharks and that oil was extracted from their livers, so we cannot know if it was the pictured shark that was sent to a taxidermist to be stuffed. In February 1934, a stuffed basking shark was conveyed to London where it was employed to advertise the film. Flaherty was ‘wild’ when he heard a piece had been cut from the shark’s middle in order to fit it into the exhibition window of the Gaumont-British Film House on Wardour St.

After the London première on 25 April 1934, the shark was stored by Camden taxidermists Edward Gerrard & Sons. Gaumont-British eventually decided to donate the shark to the world’s oldest aquarium in Brighton. The Irish Times gave the following report on 1 January 1935:

A great fish weighing over two tons, the capture of which was included in the “Man of Aran” film, has been placed among the exhibits at the Brighton Aquarium, where it has proved an attractive addition to the specimens on view. It is to remain permanently at Brighton, and is known as the “Shark of Aran.” During the Christmas holidays many people – particularly those who had seen the film depicting its capture – have visited the aquarium to inspect the fish.

This is how Stevie Hobbs (b.1930) of Brighton remembers it:

I know we often went to the Aquarium and I vaguely remember seeing a huge stuffed fish in the centre aisle but might not have taken much notice of it as I always wanted to see live fish. It was always dark in there and only the tanks were lit as far as I remember.

Unfortunately, the fate of the shark is unknown. Sea Life Brighton have no record of it. People in Brighton are on the lookout, including the band British Sea Power, who coincidentally released an album entitled Man of Aran in 2009. If anyone knows what happened to the Shark of Aran, I would love to hear from you.

The Robert J. Flaherty Papers, Butler Library, Columbia University, New York; Arthur Calder-Marshall, The Innocent Eye: the life of Robert J. Flaherty (London: W.H. Allen, 1963); Pat Mullen, Man of Aran (New York: E.P. Dutton & Co., 1935).

An Dá Phianó – A Tale of Two Pianos

Tugaim suntas inniu do chuntas a roinn na scríbhneoirí cáiliúla Edith Oenone Somerville (1858-1949) agus Violet Martin (1862-1915), a ghlac chuici féin an t-ainm cleite Martin Ross. Tháinig an bheirt ar dhá phianó le linn dóibh saoire deich lá a chaitheamh in Árainn i samhradh na bliana 1895. Bhain na huirlisí luachmhara seo le tithe dá raibh gabháltais fairsinge ag dul leo, teaghlaigh a bhí in acmhainn sa naoú céad déag. Ach cé a thug isteach an dá phianó? Cé a sheinn iad? Agus cén ceol a sheinn siad?

Le caoinchead Bhertie & Treasa Joyce, Cill Mhuirbhigh

D’fhan na col seisearacha Somerville agus Ross i dteach i gCill Éinne ar a dtugtaí Killeany Lodge ina raibh ‘horsehair sofa’ agus ‘semi-grand piano’ (21). Sílim go dtáinig an pianó áirithe seo isteach sa teach go luath sa naoú céad déag. Ní dóigh gurb é an smuglálaí iomráiteach as an gCaorán ar an gCeathrú Rua, Máirtín Mór Ó Máille de shliocht Ghráinne Mhaol, a thug isteach é; ná ní dóigh gurb é a nia Máirtín (b.c.1789), a tháinig ina dhiaidh sa teach úd, ba chúis leis ach oiread. Sílim gurb ag a bhean siúd, Mary Anne D’Arcy (1793-1871), a bhí an cumas chun pianó a sheinnt agus gur chuicise a tugadh isteach é. De réir tuairisc Tim Robinson, bhain Mary Anne le clann dá raibh grúdlann cháiliúil acu i mBaile Átha Cliath (41) agus, mar a scríobhann Arthur Loesser go gonta faoi cheoltóirí ban na linne a bhain le haicme áirithe:

Among the genteel ranks, the lord and master of a house understood that the idleness of his wife and daughters was a necessary feature of his prestige as a gentleman…. Simple idleness, however, is a negative thing that had little ostentative glow; it looked more ladylike to do something uselessly pretty than to do nothing… (267)

Dá mba le Mary Anne an pianó, is cosúil gur fhág sí ina diaidh é nuair a d’aistrigh sí go Baile Átha Cliath sna 1850í tamall i ndiaidh bás a fear; ní heol dom, áfach, cad a tharla don bpianó i ndiaidh 1895. Maidir leis an gceol a bhí á sheinm aici, seans go bhfuil leid i measc na n-amhrán a chan neach lena fear, Maria Gorham (c.1842-1935). Roinn sise Eibhlín a Rúin agus An Chúilfhionn – amhráin a bhain go mór le stór pianó an ré úd – leis an Athair Luke Donnellan nuair a bhailigh seisean amhráin in Árainn.

Tháinig Somerville agus Ross ar an dara pianó i gCill Mhuirbhigh lá dá raibh siad ag teacht anuas as Dún Aonghusa:

Near Kilmurvey the Resident Magistrate’s house shows a trim roof among young larch and spruce, a miracle of modernity and right angles after the strewn monstrosities of the ridge above; passing near it, a piano gave forth a Nocturne of Chopin’s to the solitude, a patrician lament, a skilled passion, in a land where ear and voice have preserved the single threads of melody, and harmony is as yet unwoven (29-30).

Murab cuairteoir a bhí á sheinnt, sílim gurb í bean an tí, Lily O’Flaherty Johnston (c.1857-1944), a bhí ag seinm ceol Chopin. Murab í Lily a thug isteach an pianó, b’fhéidir gurb í a máthair Julia Irwin, a tógadh i Ros Comáin, a thug isteach é am éigin i ndiaidh 1878. Ba cara agus iontaobhaí le muintir Irwin an t-aturnae, leabharlannaí, bailitheoir ceoil, agus staraí mór na Gaillimhe James Hardiman (1782-1855), agus phós mac leisean deirfiúr Lily, Julia (384). Síltear gurb é an pianó céanna é atá i dteach Chill Mhuirbhigh ó shin – uirlis éanadáin ar a bhfuil cosa stíl Londain, is cosúil, a díoladh i mBaile Átha Cliath.

Edith Somerville & Martin Ross [Violet Martin], Some Irish Yesterdays (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1906); Tim Robinson, Stones of Aran: Labyrinth (Dublin: Lilliput Press, 1995); Arthur Loesser, Men, Women and Pianos: A Social History (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1954 (1990)); Luke Donnellan, ‘Eibhlin a Rúin’, Journal of the County Louth Archaeological Society 2.4 (November 1911), pp.416-417; Luke Donnellan, ‘The Coulin’, Journal of the County Louth Archaeological Society 3.1 (December 1912), pp.12-13.

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In the summer of 1895, the writers Edith Oenone Somerville (1858-1949) and Violet Martin (1862-1915) – who used the pen-name Martin Ross – spent ten days holidaying in Árainn. There, they came across two pianos in local houses with substantial holdings of land, households that could afford pianos. So who brought the pianos to Aran? Who played them? And what music did they play?

Somerville and Ross stayed in Killeany Lodge, which had a ‘horsehair sofa’ as well as a ‘semi-grand piano’ (21). I reckon this piano arrived in Aran in the early nineteenth century when the house was occupied by the O’Malleys. The well-known smuggler and descendent of the pirate queen Grace O’Malley, Máirtín Mór O’Malley from An Caorán in An Cheathrú Rua, is unlikely to have brought the piano in, as is his nephew Máirtín (b.c.1789) who succeeded him there. Máirtín’s wife, on the other hand, is the most likely occupant to have had the ability to play the piano and to have brought the semi-grand to Cill Éinne. According to Tim Robinson, Mary Anne D’Arcy (1793-1871) belonged to a Dublin brewing family (41) and, as Arthur Loesser piquantly observes about contemporary female musicians of a particular class:

Among the genteel ranks, the lord and master of a house understood that the idleness of his wife and daughters was a necessary feature of his prestige as a gentleman…. Simple idleness, however, is a negative thing that had little ostentative glow; it looked more ladylike to do something uselessly pretty than to do nothing… (267)

If Mary Anne owned the piano, she left it behind her when she moved to Dublin in the 1850s a while after her husband’s death; its fate after 1895 is, as yet, unknown. As for the music she played on it, perhaps there is a clue in the repertoire of her husband’s niece, Maria Gorham (c.1842-1935). She shared Eibhlín a Rúin and An Chúilfhionn – traditional songs that were appropriated by the nineteenth-century parlour piano tradition – with Fr Luke Donnellan when he collected songs in Aran.

Somerville and Ross found the second piano in Cill Mhuirbhigh upon their descent from Dún Aonghusa:

Near Kilmurvey the Resident Magistrate’s house shows a trim roof among young larch and spruce, a miracle of modernity and right angles after the strewn monstrosities of the ridge above; passing near it, a piano gave forth a Nocturne of Chopin’s to the solitude, a patrician lament, a skilled passion, in a land where ear and voice have preserved the single threads of melody, and harmony is as yet unwoven (29-30).

I reckon the Chopin nocturne – a staple of nineteenth-century European parlour piano music – was being played, if not by a visitor, then by the woman of the house, Lily O’Flaherty Johnston (c.1857-1944). If Lily didn’t bring the piano into Aran sometime after 1878, perhaps it was her mother, Julia Irwin from Roscommon. The famous Galway historian, solicitor, librarian, and music collector James Hardiman (1782-1855) was a friend and trustee of the Irwins and his son married Lily’s sister, Julia (384). The piano that is now in Kilmurvey House – apparently a cottage/birdcage piano with London-style legs, which was sold in Dublin – could well be the same instrument.

Edith Somerville & Martin Ross [Violet Martin], Some Irish Yesterdays (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1906); Tim Robinson, Stones of Aran: Labyrinth (Dublin: Lilliput Press, 1995); Arthur Loesser, Men, Women and Pianos: A Social History (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1954 (1990)); Luke Donnellan, ‘Eibhlin a Rúin’, Journal of the County Louth Archaeological Society 2.4 (November 1911), pp.416-417; Luke Donnellan, ‘The Coulin’, Journal of the County Louth Archaeological Society 3.1 (December 1912), pp.12-13.

Máire Ní Dhioráin 1945 & Oireachtas 1913

Is cosúil nach bhfuil deireadh ráite faoin Oireachtas go fóill. Is iomadh scéilín ó bhéilín atá cloiste agam ó shin mar gheall ar an bhféile, ní amháin faoi Chill Áirne roinnt seachtainí ó shin, ach freisin faoi Bhaile Átha Cliath i 1945 agus faoi Ghaillimh i 1913, agus faoin gcaoi gur chaith na rannpháirtithe a gcuid ama le linn na féile. Ná bíodh faitíos oraibh: ní sceithfear aon rún anseo! Níl uaim ach taifead eile a d’eascair as an bhféile a roinnt libh, chomh maith le fógra beag faoi scéal rí-spéisiúil a roinnfear le pobal na Gaillimhe go rí-ghairid.

Árainn ón aer

Pic: Rónán Mac Giolla Pháraic

Nuair a thaistil Máire Ní Dhioráin as Árainn – ise atá luaite i mblag na míosa seo caite agus i mblag an Aibreáin – go Baile Átha Cliath i nDeireadh Fómhair 1945 chun freastal ar an bhféile, glacaim leis gurbh í sin an chéad uair aici san ardchathair. Thapaigh sí an deis aithne a chur ar an áit agus thug cuairt ar Bhinn Éadair agus ar Thithe an Oireachtais agus d’fhreastal ar chluiche iománaíochta – rud nach bhfeicfí go ró-mhinic in Árainn – i bPáirc an Chrócaigh (uí Ógáin 2007, 423). Freisin, bhí sí ar cuairt i dtithe éagsúla: oíche Chéadaoin Tí Shorcha Ní Ghuairim, oíche Dhéardaoin Tí Shéamuis Uí Dhuilearga, agus oíche Dhomhnaigh Tí Jack Hughes i nDún Droma. I measc na ndaoine a casadh ar Mháire, a ghlac páirt sna comórtais, agus a thaifead dioscaí do Shéamus Mac Aonghusa agus a chomhghleacaithe i gCoimisiún Béaloideasa Éireann, bhí Máire Ní Cheocháin as Baile Mhúirne, Tadhg Ó Cuanaigh agus Diarmuid Ó Riordáin as Cúil Aodha, Seán Jeaic Mac Donncha, Seosamh Ó hÉanaí agus Beartla Ó Conghaile as Carna, agus Conal (Condaí) Mhicí Hiúdaí Ó Domhnaill as Rann na Feirste. Is iad cín lae oifige Shéamuis Mhic Aonghusa (CBÉ 1296: 374-9) a roinneann an t-eolas seo ar fad linn agus tugann sé léargas iontach dúinn ar an gceiliúradh a rinneadh agus ar spiorad agus ar thuin na hócáide. Is léir ón taifead seo thíos go raibh Máire ar bís: nuair a thug sí faoin amhrán An Páistín Fionn a thaifead, sheol na sceitimíní a stuaim chun seachráin (Cnuasach Béaloideasa Éireann CT0260; Máire Ní Dhioráin (23), Cill Éinne, Árainn, Co. na Gaillimhe. Bailitheoir: Séamus Mac Aonghusa, 24 Deireadh Fómhair 1945).

Mar atá i gcín lae Mhic Aonghusa – sceitimíní ar dhaoine ag an cruinniú spleodrach spraíúil agus tuiscint acu go bhfuil eachtra áirithe ag titim amach – tá an tuin chéanna le n-aireachtáil freisin, is dóigh liom, sna cuntais a mhaireann ó Oireachtas 1913, féile a bhí ar bun i gcathair na Gaillimhe i ndeireadh mhí Iúil na bliana úd. Ar na cuntais seo – a ainmníonn ceoltóirí áirithe, ina measc an t-amhránaí Maighréad Ní Annagáin, an píobaire Denis Delaney, agus na veidhleadóirí Mrs. Bridget Kenny agus Treasa Ní Ailpín – tá seod amháin ag tarraingt cainte faoi láthair i measc staraithe na Gaillimhe, laistigh agus lasmuigh den ollscoil: is é sin grianghraf atá céad bliain d’aois i mbliana, a glacadh ag Oireachtas na bliana 1913 agus a foilsíodh sa nuachtán An Claidheamh Soluis. Coinnigí súil ar na meáin mar go roinnfear leis an bpobal an grianghraf stairiúil seo sar i bhfad. Cruthófar freisin deiseanna don bpobal ainm a chur ar na daoine sa phictiúr nár aithníodh go dtí seo. Ní neart go cur le chéile!

* Féach Ríonach uí Ógáin eag. ‘Mise an fear ceoil’: Séamus Ennis – Dialann Taistil 1942-1946. Indreabhán: Cló Iar-Chonnachta, 2007.

*

Oireachtas na Gaeilge is still drawing talk about how the revelers passed the time, not only at last month’s festival in Killarney, but also in Dublin in 1945 and in Galway in 1913. Don’t worry: I’m not going to divulge any secrets here! I mean simply to release another recording that emerged from the festival and also to tip you off about a fascinating story that is soon to be shared with the people of Galway.

When Máire Ní Dhioráin of Árainn – who featured in last month’s blog and in April’s blog – travelled to Dublin in October 1945 to attend the festival, I understand that it was her first time in the capital. She took the opportunity to get to know the city, visiting Howth and the Houses of the Oireachtas and attending a hurling match – a sight rarely seen in Aran – in Croke Park (uí Ógáin 2009, 514). She also visited various houses, that of Sorcha Ní Ghuairim on Wednesday night, Séamus Ó Duilearga on Thursday night, and Jack Hughes in Dundrum on Sunday. Among the people Máire met, who participated in the competitions and who recorded discs for Séamus Ennis and his colleagues in the Irish Folklore Commission, were Máire Ní Cheocháin of Baile Mhúirne, Tadhg Ó Cuanaigh and Diarmuid Ó Riordáin of Cúil Aodha, Seán Jeaic Mac Donncha, Seosamh Ó hÉanaí and Beartla Ó Conghaile of Carna, and Conal (Condaí) Mhicí Hiúdaí Ó Domhnaill of Rann na Feirste. The source of all this information is Séamus Ennis’ office diary (NFC 1296: 374-9) and it gives us wonderful insight into the spirit and celebratory tone of the occasion. It also helps to contextualize Máire’s performance here; she was so excited that she forgot the words to the song An Páistín Fionn (National Folklore Collection CT0260; Máire Ní Dhioráin (23), Cill Éinne, Árainn, Co Galway. Collector: Séamus Ennis, 24 October 1945). My sincere thanks to the National Folklore Collection at University College Dublin for permission to share the recording here.

The tone of Ennis’ recollections – which conjure for us a sense of an exuberant and thrilling gathering bristling with anticipation – is echoed in the surviving accounts of Oireachtas 1913, which took place in Galway at the end of July that year. Amid these accounts – which name some of the participating musicians, including singer Maighréad Ní Annagáin, piper Denis Delaney, and fiddlers Mrs. Bridget Kenny and Treasa Ní Ailpín – there is one prize jewel that has set the hearts of Galway historians ablaze: a photograph taken 100 years ago at Oireachtas 1913 and published in An Claidheamh Soluis. Keep an eye to the media because this historic photograph will soon be shared with the public, who will be given the opportunity to help identify those that remain, as yet, unnamed. Ní neart go cur le chéile!

*See Ríonach uí Ógáin ed. Going to the Well for Water: The Séamus Ennis Field Diary 1942-1946. Cork: Cork University Press, 2009.