Archive for the History Category

Man and Boy

Posted in Art, History with tags , , , , , on August 14, 2025 by telescoper

A young (male) person of my acquaintance sent me this picture a while ago. I think he found it here. I assume he thinks the old guy with the walking stick is me, and the boy is him. We’ll gloss over what he was trying to say by sending it to me but, whatever the reason, I found it intriguing.

The online description reads

Elderly man supported by boy, fresco of the Tomb of the Jugglers, Necropolis of Tarquinia (Unesco World Heritage List, 2004), Lazio, Italy, Etruscan civilization, 6th century BC.

This is from the Etruscan (i.e. pre-Roman) period and the best guess for the date is around 530 BC, so the first thing of interest is that, although it is damaged, it has survived pretty well. Fresco (paint on wet plaster, left to dry) is a very fragile medium and many made 1,000 years after this have not lasted as well. The reason for this is that the tomb was not unearthed until 1961, so it was undisturbed for about 2,500 years. The piece above is a section from a larger work that depicts a sort of funerary ritual.

Now to the description quoted above. For a start, the man is not all that “elderly” as his beard is not grey. He is however clearly older than the boy, who isn’t wearing a beard (nor anything else for that matter). The description says “supported by a boy” but if you look at the painting the older man is holding the younger man firmly by the wrist. That doesn’t look like “support” to me!

When I first saw this piece I assumed the older man was holding a staff or walking stick of some sort, but if you look at his right hand you’ll see his index finger extended as if he is pointing and the object in question is behind his hand. The stick also appears to be decorated, but I think it might be the trunk of a small tree; there are fig trees with fruit than hangs on the trunk, for example. It could be that the damaged area at the top of the stick represented foliage at the top. There are several depictions of trees elsewhere in the tomb.

Iinitially I thought the shapes under the original excerpt were meant to be waves, but it seems they are just part of an abstract frieze that runs all the way around.

So what can we infer from these clues? One interpretation is that the man with the beard is taking the boy away reluctantly for some nefarious activity? Sexual relationships between boys and older men were not uncommon in Greek civilisation so maybe that was also the case for the Etruscans?

But there is another interpretation, which I find more plausible given the context of the painting. The scenes in the centre and right represent the funeral rites, including music, but the man and boy (on the left) are clearly walking away from all that. Moreover, the figure in the central panel apparently standing in some sort of vessel looks very much like the boy in the panel above. Is the lid off to let him out, or is he about to be sealed in?

My reading of it, therefore, is that the boy is dead, and the man with the beard is no less than Charun, the demon charged with guiding the departed to the underworld. The name Charun is derived from the Greek Charon, but the character of Charun is quite different from the ferryman Charon. Anyway, he definitely looks like he’s taking the boy somewhere he doesn’t want to go, and Charun is often depicted wearing a skull cap as he is in the picture.

Now I definitely need to find out why my young friend sent me this…

National Famine Way

Posted in Biographical, History, Maynooth with tags , , , , , on August 9, 2025 by telescoper

Yesterday evening on my way out for a meal I got talking to a couple of people who asked for directions. It turned out that they were on the National Famine Way which, to my shame, I hadn’t heard about. When I got home I looked up the website and decided to put it on my list of things to do. The question is whether I can fit it in before term starts near the end of September…

In a time filled with tales of hunger and hearbreak, the National Famine Way commemorates just one example of the cruelty inflicted on Ireland’s poor. No fewer than 1490 starving tenants of the Mahon estate at Strokestown were evicted from their homes then marched along the Royal Canal to Dublin, escorted by the Bailiff responsible for the evictions. At Dublin they travelled by steamer to Liverpool and then crossed the Atlantic on an assortment of coffin ships bound for Canada, about a third of them dying on the way. This was called “assisted emigration”.

The sorrowful journey of the emigrants is marked by 32 pairs of bronze sculptures of children’s shoes on the National Famine Way walking trail.  There is a pair at Maynooth harbour, though I’ve never noticed it.

The 165km historical trail from Roscommon to Dublin weaves mostly along the Royal Canal , which passes through Maynooth. The trail starts in Strokestown Park at the National Famine Museum and ends at the Famine statues in Dublin Docklands, close to EPIC The Irish Emigration Museum, Dublin. On foot it’s a relatively gentle but long six days of walking, which will give me a chance to exercise my old knees as well as staying overnight few places along the way giving me the opportunity to see a bit more of Ireland. Being alongside the Royal Canal it’s very flat so, although it’s a reasonable distance each day, it shouldn’t be too strenuous.

Maynooth is the last stop before Dublin, actually, so I’ll be able to stay at home for the night before doing the final stage of 27km. I was a bit worried about getting to the start, in deepest Roscommon, but there is a bus from Maynooth that goes direct to Strokestown where the jouney starts. There are recommendations of places to eat and places to stay on the way so it should be fairly relaxed. At any rate it will certainly be more comfortable than the journey of the poor souls that made the same trip in 1847, at the height of the Great Famine.

P.S. Come to think of it, I might just do the 27km from Maynooth to Dublin one day just to check out if my knees can take it.

Autumn Repeats

Posted in Education, History, Maynooth with tags , , , , , on August 5, 2025 by telescoper

As I mentioned yesterday, it is almost time for the repeat examination period to begin once again. In fact the first papers are due tomorrow (6th August). A couple of years ago, Maynooth University produced this nice good luck message for those resitting so I’ll repeat it here:

I was a bit surprised when I first arrived here in Ireland that the August repeat examinations are called the Autumn Repeats. After all, they happen in August which is generally regarded as summer rather than Autumn. The term is, I think, a relic of the old Celtic calendar in which the start of Autumn coincides with the start of harvesting, the old festival of Lúnasa being when people celebrated the Celtic deity Lugh, who would bring a good harvest or who, if not satisfied, could bring his wrath to bear in storms that would mess everything up. Lúnasa is the name for August in modern Irish; Lá Lúnasa is 1st August, and the first Monday in August (Lá Saoire i mí Lúnasa) (yesterday) is a Bank Holiday.

Anyway, the repeat examinations start tomorrow and go on for ten days or so, I will have four different papers to grade, though I’m expecting only one candidate each for three of them.

Every year at this time I mention the difference between the system of repeats in Maynooth compared to other institutions with which I am familiar, especially in the UK. Elsewhere, students generally take resits when, because they have failed one or more examinations the previous May, they have not accumulated sufficient credits to proceed to the next year of their course. Passing the resit allows them to retrieve lost credit, but their mark is generally capped at a bare pass (usually 40%). That means the student gets the credit they need for their degree but their average (which determines whether they get 1st, 2nd or 3rd class Honours) is affected. This is the case unless a student has extenuating circumstances affecting the earlier examination, such as bad health or family emergency, in which case they take the resit as a `sit’, i.e. for the first time with an uncapped mark.

Here in Maynooth, however, the mark obtained in a repeat examination is usually not capped. Indeed, some students – though not many – elect to take the repeat examination even if they passed earlier in the summer, in order to increase their average mark.

Some people don’t like the idea of uncapped repeats because they feel that it would lead to many students playing games, i.e. deliberately not taking exams in May with the intention of spreading some of their examination  load into August. The Institute of Physics has decided to impose capped resits as part of its accreditation requirements. Some people here seem to think IOP accreditation is worth having so we’re being pushed into that requirement. I find it heavy-handed and unhelpful. It is also unimportant unless you want to do postgraduate study in physics in the UK. It doesn’t matter at all anywhere else.

If you think students have an unfair advantage if they don’t take a full diet of examinations in May, then the logical conclusion is that part-time students have an unfair advantage as do students taking micro-credentials consisting of just one or two modules. It’s the essence of the modular system that each module result should be considered on its own merit, not in relation to other modules a student may or may not have taken at the same time. One can of course argue whether the modular system is good or not, but if you have it then you should act consistently in accordance with it. You wouldn’t penalize students who have to work to support their study relative to those who don’t, would you?

And there’s no real evidence of students actually playing the system in the way the IOP thinks they do anyway. For one thing the results from the repeat examination period are not confirmed until early September so that students that deploy this strategy do not know whether they are going to be able to start their course until just a couple of weeks before term. That could cause lots of problems securing accommodation, etc, so it doesn’t seem to me to be a good ploy. Finallists adopting this strategy will not be able to graduate with the rest of their cohort and may miss several months of potential employment. I think most of our students are smart enough to realize that it’s a risky strategy.

Anyway, I’d welcome comments for or against whether resits/repeats should be capped/uncapped and on what practice is adopted in your institution.

The Dead Month

Posted in History with tags , , on July 31, 2025 by telescoper

So we’ve reached the last day of July, and tomorrow is 1st August which is the modern date of the ancient festival of Lughnasadh, although we have to wait until next Monday (4th) for the corresponding Bank Holiday. Lughnasadh can be thought of as marking the onset of he harvest season, and is the pagan forerunner of the Christian harvest festivals I remember from when I was a kid.

As I learnt from this article, the last Sunday in July has been celebrated since ancient times as Garland Sunday, Bilberry Sunday or Reek Sunday. It was a day to mark the end of Hungry July (or in the article mentioned below, The Dead Month) and anticipate the harvest to come.

I hadn’t realized that July was a time of shortage in olden times. I’d always thought the summer months would be a time of plenty, but in July the stocks of food such as grain put aside at the last harvest would often be running low and people who usually depended on farmed produce would be forced to turn to berries, etc.

Anyway. here’s a blog post I stumbled across that says more about this

Star of the Sea, by Joseph O’Connor

Posted in History, Literature with tags , on July 20, 2025 by telescoper

After the excitement of today’s Hurling Final, I finished the second of the six novels I bought earlier this year. Star of the Sea by Joseph O’Connor is set in 1847 and onboard the ship that gives the novel its name, bound for New York from Ireland, carrying desperate passengers fleeing the Great Famine, which provides the overall context for the story.

It’s worth quoting a couple of paragraphs from the author’s introduction to the novel:

We tourists take pleasure in the emptiness of Connemara. There are reasons why such a silence exists. You would not think, as you amble the sleepy lanes, as you are stilled by the twilight descending on the mountain, that you are walking through a space that was once a disaster zone: the Ground Zero, perhaps, of Victorian Europe. These meadows, those pebbled fields, saw astonishing suffering. There was heroism too; there was extraordinary courage and love. But these wine-dark boglands and rutted boreens witnessed tragedy so immense that those that witnessed it, like Grantley Dixon in my novel, would never forget the sight.

All this happened in the 1840s , that decade in which a million of the Irish underclass died as a consequence of famine. residents of the richest kingdom on earth, they lived only a few hundred miles from the empire’s capital, London. But that did not save them; nothing saved them. Abandoned by the dominant of Ireland and Britain, perhaps two million of the desperate became refugees. We might call them `asylum seekers’ or `economic migrants’. They fled their homeland by any means possible, often on ships like the Star of the Sea. Their language, Gaelic, already in decline virtually disappeared overnight. `Mharbh an gorta achanrud‘, one Gaelic speaker remembered. ‘The famine killed everything’.

O’Connor writes unflinchingly about the effects of famine, the poverty, deprivation and starvation, as well as the squalid rqat-infested conditions the `economic migrants’ were forced to endure on their month-long voyage to America. This in itself is interesting, as it has always seemed to me quite surprising that so few Irish authors have written books about An Gorta Mór. But while the Great Hunger is always present, and is what precipitates most of the action, this book is about many other things besides.

The story begins on Star of the Sea with a mysterious character who is taken to walking the decks at night. We learn very early on that his name is Pius Mulvey and his intention is to commit murder. But who is he to kill, and how, and why? The answer to the last of these questions is revealed through a series of flashbacks that reveal connections between him and several passengers in First Class, including a bankrupt Lord Merridith attempting to escape his creditors, Merridith’s wife and family, an aspiring novelist (the Grantley Dixon mentioned above), and a maidservant (Mary Duane) whose connection to them and to Mulvey is deeply tragic. The narrative is interspersed with excerpts from the log of the ship’s Captain, sundry clippings from contemporary newspapers and magazines, including examples of vile anti-Irish racism from the satirical magazine, Punch, and folk songs of the time. It’s all very carefully and cleverly plotted.

It’s partly a mystery novel, partly a suspense thriller, and partly a social commentary worthy of Dickens (who actually appears in the book, in chapters describing Pius Mulvey’s past life in London). It takes a master story-teller to bring all these elements together convincingly, and that is what Joseph O’Connor clearly is. It is not exactly a whodunnit, but I will nevertheless refrain from posting any spoilers as the ending is very clever (as indeed is the whole book). I’ll just say that I found the whole book immensely satisfying and I recommend it highly, as a novel that has real depth as well as being a true page-turner.

Star of the Sea was published in 2002, and was a best-seller then. It’s taken me too long to discover it. I must read more by Joseph O’Connor, but I have four others on my list to finish first!

Pride 2025

Posted in History, LGBTQ+, Maynooth with tags , , , , , , , , on June 13, 2025 by telescoper

It’s 13th June, which means it’s almost halfway through this year’s Pride Month. I’ve been so busy that I am very late in posting about Pride 2025. I usually post something to mark Pride Month on 1st June (e.g. here). In fact I hadn’t even noticed the Pride Progress Flag flying on Maynooth Campus (between the Arts Block and John Hume Building) until today. I didn’t see anything on Maynooth’s social media about Pride either. I didn’t see the flag yesterday when I left the Science Building and assumed it wasn’t there. It was however raining heavily so my view may have been obscured by the rain on my spectacles, so I went back today to check. I am relieved it is there, as we need such symbols now more than ever.

With its origins as a commemoration of the Stonewall Riots of 1969, Pride remains both a celebration and protest. It’s more necessary than ever now because of the sustained abuse being aimed at trans people from all quarters, including those in political power and those sad losers who have nothing better to do that spend all day tweeting their bigotry on social media. Bigots will always be bigots, but the lowest of the low are those that masquerade as some sort of progressive while spouting their hate and prejudice.

Someone asked me the other day whether we still needed Pride. I replied that I think Pride will be necessary for as long as there are people who are annoyed by its existence. As well as a celebration and a protest, Pride is an opportunity for us all to show solidarity against those who seek to divide us. Though many LGBTQIA+ people in many countries – even those that claim to be more liberal – still face discrimination, hostility and violence, Pride Month always reminds me of how far we’ve come in the past 50 years but also serves as a reminder that the rights we have won could so easily be taken away. As I get older, I find I have become more and more protective towards younger LGBTQ+ people. I don’t want them to have to put up with the crap that I did when I was their age.

To mark this year’s Pride I decided to become a patron of Gay Community News, a free magazine that is, I hope, a vital resource to for the Irish LGBTQ+ community. I hope to take part in the Dublin Pride March on 28th June too. More generally, I would like to wish all LGBTQIA+ people around the world, but especially staff and students at Maynooth University, a very enjoyable and inspiring Pride 2025!

The Borgias are having an orgy

Posted in History with tags , on June 10, 2025 by telescoper

And now for something completely different.

Lá Saoire i mí Mheitheamh

Posted in Biographical, History, Irish Language, Maynooth on June 2, 2025 by telescoper

It’s a Bank Holiday Monday here in Ireland, which makes for a nice end-of-term break for some of us. Not all staff had exams early enough to finish in time like I did, however, and no doubt some had to spend the weekend marking exam scripts. I am fortunate to have been able to accomplish everything I intended over the weekend – nothing at all – and today I’ll be able to recover from that exertion.

The June Bank Holiday (Lá Saoire i mí Mheitheamh) in Ireland is the equivalent of last week’s late May Bank Holiday in the UK, in that both have their origin in the old festival of Whitsuntide (or Pentecost) which falls on the 7th Sunday after Easter. Because the date of Easter moves around in the calendar so does Whit Sunday, but it is always in late May or early June; this year it falls on Sunday 8th June.

As if in celebration, the honeysuckle in my garden has started to flower:

The day after Pentecost was traditionally a holiday known as Pentecost Monday or Whit Monday. This enabled people to attend extra church services and organize local fairs and cultural events. Pentecost Monday became a public holiday in Ireland following the Bank Holidays Act 1871 which applied before Ireland became independent. Following the Holidays (Employees) Act 1973, this holiday was moved to the First Monday of June. This new date was first observed in 1974. This is why
we have the first Monday in June off work instead of the last Monday in May.

Although I’m only at beginners’ level in Irish, the phrase Lá Saoire i mí Mheitheamh gives me a chance to bore you about it. It’s actually quite a straightforward phrase until you reach the last word. “Lá” means “day” and “Saoire” means “leave” or “vacation” so “Lá Saoire” means “holiday”; “i” is a prepositional pronoun meaning “in” and “mí” means “month”. So far so good.

The word for June, however, is Meitheamh (at least when it is in the nominative singular case). Irish is an inflected language, which means that words change form according to their grammatical function. As an Indo-European language, Irish is distantly related to Latin which has six grammatical cases for nouns (actually seven if you count the rarely used locative case). Irish has only four cases – there’s no ablative and, curiously, no distinction between nominative and accusative. That leaves nominative, dative, genitive, and vocative. The dative – used after simple prepositions – is only rarely distinct from the nominative so basically the ones you have to learn are the genitive and the vocative.

In Latin cases are indicated by changes to the end of a word, but in Irish they involve initial mutations. In the example of “mí Mheitheamh” meaning “month of June”, requiring the genitive form of “June”, the initial consonant “M” undergoes lenition (softening) to sound more like a “v”. In old Irish texts this would be indicated by a dot over the M but in modern orthography it is indicated by writing an “h” after the consonant. This is called a séimhiú (pronounced “shay-voo” ). Note the softened m in the middle of that word too but it’s not a mutation – it’s just part of the regular spelling of the word, as is the -mh at the end of Meitheamh. There’s also a softened “t” in the middle of Meitheamh which makes it vrtually disappear in pronunciation. Meitheamh is thus pronounced something like “Meh-hiv” whereas “Mheitheamh” is something like “Veh-hiv”.

Gheobhaidh mé mo chóta…

International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia

Posted in History, LGBTQ+ with tags , , , on May 17, 2025 by telescoper

Today is May 17th, which means that it is International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia. If you’re wondering why May 17th was chosen, it’s to commemorate May 17th 1990, which is when the World Health Organisation removed homosexuality from its list of “mental illnesses”.


Attitudes in many places are more enlightened than they were decades ago. Next week, for example, sees the 10th anniversary of the equal marriage referendum in Ireland.  But the rights we have won  could easily be  (and indeed are being ) lost if we do not defend them.

 

The theme for IDAHOBIT2025  is “The Power of Communities”, shown above in Irish. Even if you are not a member of our community we still need your support. Here is a useful guide I posted a few years ago about how to be a good ally.

The Day of St Patrick

Posted in History, Maynooth with tags , , , on March 17, 2025 by telescoper

Well, it’s St Patrick’s Day, which is a public holiday here in Ireland, so Lá Fhéile Pádraig sona daoibh go léir!
This morning I watched the Parade in Maynooth. It didn’t rain, but it was a strangely subdued affair notable for the lack of music. The isn’t much of an atmosphere if the participants are walking along in silence! You can’t have Craic agus Ceol if there’s no Ceol. I only counted two tractors too; usually there are many more than that. Fortunately, I have a calendar that offers a tractor for every month to make up for this disappointment. Still, it was good to see the kids enjoing themselves. The highlight for me this year was the Coakley Septic Tank Cleaning Truck, which just outdid the Thornton’s Refuse Collection Vehicle for sheer splendour.

Anyway, I should take the opportunity to write something about St Patrick. Not much is known for certain but it seems he was born in Britain, probably in the late 4th Century AD, probably somewhere around the Severn Estuary, and probably in Wales. It also appears that he didn’t know any Latin. When a young man, it seems he was captured by Celtic marauders coming up the River Severn and taken as a slave to Ireland. He eventually escaped back to Britain, but returned to Ireland as a missionary and succeeded somehow in converting the Irish people to Christianity.

 


Or did he? This interesting piece suggests his role was of lesser importance than many think.

However it happened, Ireland was the first country to be converted to Christianity that had never been part of the Roman Empire. That made a big difference to the form of the early Church here. The local Celtic culture was very loose and decentralized. There were no cities, large buildings, roads or other infrastructure. Life revolved around small settlements and farms. When wars were fought they were generally over livestock or grazing land. The early Irish Church that grew in this environment was quite different from that of continental Europe. It was not centralized, revolved around small churches and monasteries, and lacked the hierarchical structure of the Roman Church. Despite these differences, Ireland was quite well connected with the rest of the Christian world.Irish monks – and the wonderful illuminated manuscripts they created – spread across the continent, starting with Scotland and Britain. Thanks to the attentions of the Vikings few of these works survive but the wonderful Lindisfarne Gospels, dating from somewhere in the 8th Century were almost certainly created by Irish monks. The Book of Kells was probably created in Scotland by Irish Monks.

The traffic wasn’t entirely one-way however. A few years ago I saw a fascinating documentary about the Fadden More Psalter. This is a leather-bound book of Psalms found in a peat bog in 2006, which is of similar age to the Lindisfarne Gospels. It took years of painstaking restoration work to recover at least part of the text (much of which was badly degraded), but the leather binding turned out to hold a particularly fascinating secret: it was lined with papyrus. The only other books from the same period with the same structure that are known are from the Coptic Church in Egypt. That doesn’t mean that whoever owned the Fadden More Psalter had actually been to Egypt, of course. It is much more this book made its way to Ireland via a sort of relay race. On the other hand, it does demonstrate that international connections were probably more extensive than you might have thought.

Anyway, back to St Patrick’s Day. Saint Patrick’s Day is celebrated on March 17th, the reputed date of his death in 461 AD. Nobody really knows where St Patrick was born, though, so it would be surprising if the when were any better known. In any case, it wasn’t until the 17th Century that Saint Patrick’s feast day was placed on the universal liturgical calendar in the Catholic Church. Indeed, St Patrick has never been formally canonized. In the thousand years that passed any memory of the actual date of his birth was probably lost, so the choice of date was probably influenced by other factors, specifically the proximity of the Spring Equinox (which is this year on Thursday March 20th).

The early Christian church in Ireland incorporated many pre-Christian traditions that survived until roughly the 12th century, including the ancient festival of Ēostre (or Ostara), the goddess of spring associated with the spring equinox after whom Easter is named. During this festival, eggs were used a symbol of rebirth and the beginning of new life and a hare or rabbit was the symbol of the goddess and fertility. In turn the Celtic people of Ireland probably adapted their own beliefs to absorb much older influences dating back to the stone age. St Patrick’s Day and Easter therefore probably both have their roots in prehistoric traditions around the Spring Equinox, although the direct connection has long been lost.