Posts Tagged With: Dublin

The Long Room, Trinity College Library. A Bibliophile’s Heaven.

Posted on May 9, 2018 by singersong

Most of my readers will not be aware that aside from Irish music and photography which I combine in my blog, another of my other passions is old books. That makes me a bibliophile. If you are on the same wavelength as me then you can understand the feeling that you get when you visit the Old Library at Trinity College in Dublin. It’s like you have been given early access to the Pearly Gates. Even if you aren’t into books it remains one of the most beautiful rooms in the world and you should see it anyway.

The Long Room, Old Library.

The Trinity College library is huge, located in a number of buildings both on and off campus. The Old Library is located in Thomas Burgh’s architectural masterpiece ,a building which dominates the Trinity landscape.

The grounds of Trinity College. The Old Library is on the right.

It was founded along with the University in 1592 and 70 years later was presented by Vice Chancellor and benefactor, Henry Jones, with its most famous accession, the Book of Kells. In 1656 the Archbishop of Armagh, James Ussher, bequeathed his valuable library, comprising several thousand printed books and manuscripts, to the Library. This forms the core of the remarkable collection of 200,000 of the oldest books now housed in what is known as the Long Room.

This 65 metre long chamber was built between 1712 and 1732. Initially it had a flat ceiling and books on only one level. In 1860 to accommodate the ever expanding collection the roof was raised and a second level of shelving added along with a stunning curved ceiling.

Up until 1860 there was only one level with a flat ceiling

The second level and curved ceiling

Rich wood paneling, wrought iron staircases, giant frosted windows providing a gorgeous filtered light that gives the books a golden glow all add to the ambiance of what is a very special place.

A remarkable space

Stairway to Upper Level

Lots of natural light

The books are housed in a series of double sided shelves labelled A to V on the right side and AA to VV on the left. Interestingly J and JJ are missing as this letter was only added to the English alphabet around 1630. The individual shelves are labelled a to o or aa to oo (again j missing) from the ground up and then individual books are numbered from 1 left to right. This gives each book a unique location number for example, DD m 5. A surprisingly effective pre Dewey-system ifor finding a book

Cataloging system using letters and numbers

The Long Room is lined with marble busts of authors, philosophers and college benefactors. All white men by the way. Fourteen of the busts are by the famous sculptor Peter Scheemakers.

Busts line the hall

Of course the Library is best known for the Book of Kells (of which two copies are on display) in the attached museum but other prized acquisitions are on display in the Long Room. There is one of the last remaining copies of the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic, read by Patrick Pearse near the General Post Office on 24 April 1916. It was much bigger than I thought.

A copy of the 1916 Proclamation

The beautiful “Brian Boru harp” is also housed here. This instrument is the oldest of its kind in Ireland dating back to the 15th century. The harp is made out of oak and willow, beautifully carved, and includes 29 brass strings (originally 30).

The Brian Boru harp

The books themselves are are of course the centerpiece. They are beautifully bound. Mostly of course leather and vellum. Sometimes bindings are works of art themselves. Many are tattered, reflecting years of loving use. Unfortunately you can’t get up close but most books that I could read the titles of are of course in Latin, the language of scholars of the day, and many are apparently religious tracts. But significant proportion I noticed were in English. Shelves full of books on medicine for example caught my attention.

Books on medicine

Sometimes a little tape is required

Ridges characteristic of cord-bound books

A well used vellum bound set of Works of Andrea Gallandi an Italian scholar who died in 1780

Bindings of many colours display the bookbinder’s art on this early Bible

Original editions of works by Aldrovandus, an Italian naturalist, the father of Natural History, who died in 1605

As a collector, familiar with the value of rare books one can only speculate on the value of such a unique collection and I would suggest that many of the books would be unobtainable. The beauty of them being here and not in a private collection is of course that you could access it if you needed to. Libraries have adapted to the digital age and surprisingly still remain very popular. The death of the book is wildly exaggerated. Long live the book.

Categories: My Journey, Real Ireland | Tags: 1916, antiquarian books, architecture, bibliophile, Book of Kells, books, Brian Boru, Brian Boru Harp, Dublin, harp, Henry Jones, history, Ireland, Irish Independence, James Ussher, Library, Long Room, old books, Old Library, photography, Proclamation, rare books, Thomas Burgh, travel, Trinity College | 4 Comments

One Day. Six Counties. A Winter Tour through East Ireland

Posted on February 11, 2018 by singersong

It’s a long drive from West Clare, my base in Ireland, to Carlingford in County Louth. In fact it is across the country from one coast to the other. So when you get there you want to maximise the time. Early in February a small festival known as Feile na Tana is organised by renowned fiddler Zoe Conway and she manages to attract some of the finest traditional musicians in the country. I posted on this festival on my blog a couple of years ago (here) and nothing much has really changed. Centered on instrument workshops the focus of the festival is on reaching out to the young and to try and restore and invigorate a once strong musical heritage on the edge of Ulster. The other thing I love about coming to Louth, the smallest county in Ireland, is that it and the neighbouring counties of Armagh and Down has unrivaled beauty and such unique landscapes, geology, ancient archaeology and recent history. I relished the chance to explore this while playing music at the same time.

I was blessed on a number of accounts this time. The weather was relatively fine (let me translate: ‘it didn’t rain’) and I found a marvelous place to stay through AirBnB. Eve, another expatriate drawn to leave her life in the US behind and put down roots in Ireland, was the perfect host. With views toward the Mountains of Mourne and in the shadow of Slieve Foy, I could come and go, I could practice the fiddle or settle down by the fire. And then she was instrumental in convincing me to stay an extra couple of days to experience the coming snow. Thanks Eve. I was well rewarded for that decision.

And that’s what I want to talk about in this blog.

Looking from Louth across to the Mountains of Mourne

Slieve Foy near Carlingford

Carlingford nestled at the foot of the Cooley Hills

Coming from the Land of the Midday Sun (I’ve just renewed my Poetic Licence!) I have little experience with snow. Except that I love it and the spectacular images that may result if the light is right. This lack of experience however led to some interesting learnings about coping with ice and snow on the road

In West Clare when it rains or hails you certainly know about it. The sound of the rain on the slate can be deafening. Here if it snows at night you sleep through the silence. The flakes drift to the ground steadily and quietly building up anywhere where gravity is only mildly resisted. This is what happened on the Monday night. After an unusually undisturbed night snuggled up with the thoughtfully provided electric blanket (surprisingly unusual in an Irish BnB), I looked out the window in the morning, with no great expectation, but was dazzled by brilliant blue sky and a sparkling carpet of fresh white powder. And remember I was at sea level.

I had a loose plan. I would take the ferry across the Carlingford Lough to County Down and explore the Mountains of Mourne, which I could see from the window of my second story bedroom.

Looking across the Lough from Greenore towards the Mountains of Mourne

View across the Carlingford Lough to the town of Warrenpoint

Another view across the Carlingford Lough to the town of Warrenpoint

However the best laid plans. The ferry was closed for ‘adverse’ weather conditions. Hardly surprising really with a strong wind now making life difficult and whipping up the waters of the Lough. In Ireland you always have to have a Plan B, so I drove north towards Slieve Gullion. Lucky really as in retrospect driving through County Down would have been treacherous.

My vague plan was to revisit some spots on the Ring of Gullion but really I was dictated by which roads were passable. I had earlier spent a couple of days exploring this stunning area of South Armagh . A blog on this is on the way. I was curious to see what this ancient world looked like under a white blanket. My route took me through Carlingford to Omeath and up to Flagstaff Hill. Mistake. There were stunning views on the way up. But.

The Cooley Hills between Carlingford and Omeagh

Rock and Ice

View across the Newry River to County Down on the way up to Flagstaff Hill. The tower house on the River is the Narrows Keep and the site of the most deadly attack in the Troubles, by the Provisional IRA in 1979, which killed 16 British paratroopers.

My car struggled to deal with the icy hill and only after some hair raising moments did I make it to a relatively ice-less part of the road to pause. Up ahead the road continued to climb with even more ice and snow. What did they say about discretion and valour? So I did an 11 point turn and gingerly pointed the car back down the hill.

Flagstaff Hill is actually in County Armagh. But are they miles or kilometres?

Having got this far though I decided to walk to the top of the hill. So glad I did. I actually didn’t realise that this was Flagstaff Hill which I will talk about in another blog but the snow certainly added another dimension. Flagstaff Hill is actually in Northern Ireland. There are no border signs so you don’t actually know. In fact the only way you know you have passed into another countyr is that the road signs and Google Maps switch to miles. Honestly I can’t conceive of an hard border here.

The fine white powder transformed the green rolling hills of the elevated Cooley range into an Alpine wonderland. The biting wind and an outside temperature of 1 degree though did nothing to dampen spirits. I actually didn’t want to leave but I was worried about how the car would handle the trip back down the mountain.

View down Carlingford Lough from Flagstaff Hill

View across to the Mountains of Mourne from Flagstaff Hill in Armagh

Flagstaff Hill

It was nerve wracking I have to say. Slipping and sliding with shuddering and totally ineffectual brakes I edged back down the hill to Omeath and then on to Slieve Gullion by a more circuitous and less treacherous route.

Naively I had expected to be able to drive to the Summit but luckily the road was closed because I might have been tempted to give it a go.

Thwarted again, I made my way west to a castle I had visited a couple of days earlier (Castle Roche). Only a light dusting of patchy snow remained at this lower level but this is one of the most imposing ruins in Ireland and the patches of snow added to the mystical quality of the fortification. I will have more to say about it in my upcoming blog on the Ring of Gullion.

Castle Roche

Fields surrounding the Castle

Suddenly the blue skies weren’t blue anymore and snow showers would sweep across the fields. Not enough to settle and they were only intermittent but they reminded me how quickly the weather could change.

A dark sky looms over a bucolic winter scene

Moments later snow sweeps in

By now it was approaching 2 pm and as I had to be back in Clare I reluctantly headed south.

But my adventure was not over. Driving down the M1 towards Dublin the snow continued to blanket the cuttings along the motorway. Skirting Dublin on the M50 and then south west on the M7, I could see plenty of snow in the distance and I just couldn’t bring myself to speed past it.

Snowy hills around Kilteel in Co Kildare

A rural scene in County Kildare

So so I left the Motorway at Rathcoole in County Dublin and headed east, I had never been here and had no idea where I was going. I love that. The only thing on my mind was to get closer to those white hills. My confused route took me through the west of Dublin to Kildare and then crossing into the edge of Wicklow. If anything the snow was heavier here than further north and there were unrivaled picture postcard views of snowy villages and of winter landscapes revealed around every corner. The ranges in the distance I later discovered were the Wicklow Hills.

Kilteel, Co Kildare

A snow covered barn in Kilteel, Co Kildare

The charming village of Rathmore, Co Kildare

Great weather for sheep. Co Wicklow.

Abandoned farm buildings, Co Wicklow

Co Wicklow

Something was drawing me on but common sense intervened. As the bright blue sky turned orange with the disappearing sun, and darkness descended, I headed back to the Motorway. Continuing to Limerick, as if to tease me in the fading light, drifts of snow reflecting in my headlights, continued to tantalise .

A marvelous day and indeed a rare day and I think I took full advantage. I manged to experience and observe snow-draped winter terrains under largely blue skies across Six Counties – Louth, Down, Armagh, Dublin Kildare and Wicklow.

Special.

Categories: My Journey, Real Ireland, Wild Ireland | Tags: Armagh, Carlingford, Cooley Hills, Down, Dublin, Feile na Tana, Flagstaff Hill, ice, Ireland, KIldare, Louth, Mountains of Mourne, music, Northern Ireland, panorama, photograph, photography, Ring of Gullion, Slieve Gullion, snow, travel, Wicklow, Wicklow Hills | Leave a comment

St Patricks Day in Ennis. Fifty Shades of Green.

Posted on March 19, 2015 by singersong

My first St Patrick’s Day in Ireland.

It has always been something I have avoided in Oz. An excuse for all and sundry to parade themselves as being Irish (whether they are or not) fuelled by green beer and endless renditions of Wild Rover and the Fields of Athenry. Not always a pretty sight. And sessions on St Pats Day are non existent as every person who can hold a fiddle or accordion is gigging somewhere that night. So I was keen to find out what it was like back here.

St Patrick’s Day honours the death of St Patrick, patron saint of Ireland, in 461 and it is celebrated as a national holiday in Ireland and Northern Ireland and around the world by the Irish diaspora. It has moved from being a religious holiday to a day of secular celebration much to the chagrin of the church. I like this quote from Father Vincent Twomey who wrote in 2007, “It is time to reclaim St Patrick’s Day as a church festival without mindless alcohol-fuelled revelry” and concluded that “it is time to bring the piety and the fun together.” This plea seems to have fallen on deaf ears.

March 17^th was a glorious sunny day in Clare so I headed into Ennis. The place was decorated with bunting and flags in preparation for the Parade, which kicked off at 11.00. Parades are a big deal here and every town and village has one. Not as big as Dublin of course which is now supposedly beats that in New York but definitely not as small as the one in Dripsey in Co Cork (which celebrates the fact that it has the shortest parade in the world – 100 yards between the village’s two pubs).

They are often staggered so the limited number of brass bands and prime movers can rotate between the villages. Community groups and schools go to a lot of effort and there are prizes for the best float or display. And everyone dresses up, with green of course being the dominant colour. At least fifty shades of green. Somehow it’s not tacky as it tends to be in Australia. It is the Irish celebrating their Irishness. So I saw nothing incongruous in leprechaun beards and green wigs as I might have in Australia if worn by Australians.

The other thing that struck me as the Parade moved past me was that just as in Australia now, Ireland is a multi-layered society and a quick flick through the photos shows groups with a diversity of ethnic identities. There is a strong representation of support groups for people with special needs. It was quite a window into what is important to the people of Clare. The whole thing is very much a family day and this spilled over into the pubs and restaurants with family groups continuing the celebrations as others geared up for a big night.

I had heard there would be tunes all day at Cruises so at 1:00 I joined Eric and Hugh Healy with Brian O’Loughlin and Catherine for some great tunes. Energetic and fast – great fun. Accompanied as we were by a young lad who practiced his dance steps continuously for well over two hours! Gradually the families left the pub and by 4 pm there was a change in musicians to Eoin O’Neill and Quentin Cooper and friends. The pub was rapidly filling up but at 6:00 I decided to head back to Friels at Miltown Malbay where there was a session in full swing when I arrived with with Damien O’Reilly, Caoilfhionn Ni Fhrighil, Eamonn O’Riordan, Brian Mooney and Thiery Masur . The pub was packed like I haven’t seen it since Willie Week and there was plently to like about the music. At 8.30 it wound up and my next stop was Liscannor where Ennis band Los Paddys de las Pampas were playing at Egans. I have to say I had never heard them before and wasn’t sure what to expect – Ireland meets South America? But with talent like Adam Shapiro and Kirsten Allstaff involved it had to be good. And what a great night. The music was surprisingly infectious and even a boring old fart like me was up on the dance floor bopping along. There were some great cameos from Clara Buettler and two flamenco dancing sisters (can’t remember their names) and then Lenka Hoffmanova took to the floor looking resplendent in her dress of orange white and green. Flamenco meets sean nos! Great stuff!

Now that was how St Patricks Day should be celebrated.