John Bodkin's Hand

 

"If the old stones of Saint Nicholas Collegiate church could speak, what strange tales they would tell of war and peace, prosperity and adversity, civil and religious strife, of self-denying devotion to the service of God and rash sacrilegious spoliation"

                Rev J. Fleetwood Berry, Rector of Galway 1912

The church of St Nicholas in Galway is the city’s oldest church. Built in 1320 it was more than likely built on the site of an older once, possibly a Knights Templar and contains a crusader grave much older than the present church. There are many tales told of this historic building. It is said that Christopher Columbus prayed here when he visited the city in 1477.  A Lesser well know tale connected to the church is that of John Bodkin and his hand. John Bodkin, the last Catholic warden was forced to give up his church in the 17^th century before it became Protestant. Bodkin is a name long associated with the city of Galway and was one of the fourteen tribes of Galway, wealthy merchants who made the city very rich and prosperous. Such was their power that they created church wardens directly elected by them in 1484, a system which lasted until Galway became a diocese in 1831. The prosperity of Galway suffered a severe setback in the 17^th century. The city had always been loyal to the Crown, which was not a good idea during the English Civil War. When Cromwell’s troops entered the city they used the church as a stable. A few decades later Williamite forces besieged the city as Galway had once more backed the losing side. The city surrendered to General Godert de Ginkell, 1st Earl of Athlone, in July of 1691. Ginkell’s soldiers came to Warden Bodkin to collect the keys to his church. As he handed them over he cried out in despair: “ My God, that my right hand may not decay until the key of this church be restored to its proper owners”.From that day on the Church of St Nicholas ceased to become Catholic and was reconsecrated into the Church of Ireland.There appears to have been no ill feeling among the Catholics and when Dr George P Brown was appointed first Protestant bishop of Galway both Protestants and Catholics rejoiced. The infamous penal laws followed the Williamite wars and Catholics continued to worship, albeit secretly and gathered at places such as the mass rock in Shantalla. Little more was recorded about Bodkin, save that he died in 1710 and was buried in the vaults of the church he once administered.  Although now a Protestant church it was agreed that the deceased of the old Galway merchant families would continue to be buried there, a practice that continued until the 19^th century. The people of Galway remembered what Bodkin had said and came to pray at this tomb which could be viewed by entering a private passage into the vault from the High altar. Three times within the space of a hundred years his coffin disintegrated with age and had to be replaced but the corpse had not decayed in any way. In 1738 some stones from the tomb fell and damaged the toes, but otherwise the corpse looked very fresh indeed.The years passed and the city continued to decay but something that had not decayed was the body of Bodkin. And this became clear when it was decided to carry out much needed repairs on the vaults. Under the supervision of a Mr Clare the repairs began in 1838. In the course of the repairs the workmen came across the 129 year old corpse of Bodkin. Mr Clare who would later give a sworn statement to his solicitor described the body as being in perfect condition, save damage to the toes, the teeth perfectly white and the skin somewhat elastic. Word quickly spread through the streets of Galway and many wondered if the prophecy would be fulfilled. According to some rumours the corpse was holding the keys to the church in his right hand. Thousands came in to have a look at the body which was now being looked upon as a miracle. Among most of the population, it was held that the return of the church to the Catholics of Galway was imminent. The chaos caused by the crowds meant the restoration work had to be called off three days after the discovery.The next morning the foreman carpenter, John McMahon called to Mr. Clare’s house at six o’clock in the morning to tell him that the right hand of the corpse had been cut off. McMahon, a Presbyterian was scared that the people would blame him for the desecration. Not only had the right hand been removed but flesh was removed from the chest and an attempt had been made to destroy it with lime, but this had only discoloured the skin. The church had been cleared of all onlookers and Henry Caddy, the sexton, was the only one with a key. Caddy was summoned and interrogated by a crowd anxious to know what had happened. He refused to talk but when the crowd dragged him down to the river and threatened to throw him in. He knew they meant business and he told them that he had given the key to Timothy Murray and Dr McSweeney. Murray was approached and he admitted to having committed the desecration of the corpse and would only give the hand back to Reverend Roch. Roch in turn promised to return it at 2 o’clock and the mob dispersed. An even larger crowd returned at the appointed time but Roch did not appear until four. He had the hand with him which was minus the fingers and slashed in many places. Rejecting suggestions to bury the body elsewhere Clare lifted up the body and placed it in a new coffin. He then closed the coffin and vault in such a way that there can be no access to it except by ripping up the floor.

  

She Weeps over Rahoon

James Joyce

Rain on Rahoon falls softly, softly falling,
Where my dark lover lies.
Sad is his voice that calls me, sadly calling,
At grey moonrise.

Love, hear thou
How soft, how sad his voice is ever calling,
Ever unanswered, and the dark rain falling,
Then as now.

Dark too our hearts, O love, shall lie and cold
As his sad heart has lain
Under the moongrey nettles, the black mould
And muttering rain

Lili Marlene

Lili Marlene

Rónán-Gearóid Ó Domhnaill

Underneath the lantern by the barrack gate,Darling I remember the way you used to wait, 'Twas there that you whispered tenderly, That you loved me, You'd always be,My Lili of the lamplight, My own Lili Marlene

Lili Marlene undoubtedly ranks as the most famous song of The Second World War. It became the unofficial song of both the Germans and Allies and had many different versions, some designed to promote longing and love, others hatred towards the foe while others were anti-war.

The song was originally written by Hans Leip (1893-1983) in 1915, who was a young soldier about to go to war. What he experienced at the front horrified him and he often reminisced of happier times when he stood on guard duty and caught a glimpse of his girlfriend and wondered if he would survive the death and destruction that surrounded him. Amidst the horrors of war he longed to be with her once more, a longing his generation and the next one could readily identify with. The name Lili Marlene was a combination of the name of his girlfriend Lili, with that of his friend’s girlfriend Marlene.
It was published as a poem in 1937 under the title of 'The Song of a Young Sentry' when it caught the attention of the composer Norbert Schultze who wrote music to ita and in 1938 and got Lale Andersen to sing it. It was first sung at a cabaret but this version was forbidden due to its anti-war message, one of the verses which ran:
Who recovers the bodies,Lost in desert sands?Who counts the victimson the oil-soaked beaches?Tell me, how much pain must pass,'til we see the waste and stupidity of it all?Oh God, Lilli Marleen

It landed Schultze in hot water with the authorities and in order to appease the Propaganda Ministry who could make or break his career he later came up with marches such as 'Bombs for England', which in turn landed him in trouble with the English after the war.
When the song was released it didn’t prove popular. The propaganda minister Josef Goebbels wanted to make a march out of it, which Andersen didn’t want and no radio station wanted to play it. When it was launched it only sold 700 copies.

In 1941 when the Germans occupied Yugoslavia they set up a radio station in Belgrade to broadcast to their troops. It was powerful enough to broadcast to most of Europe. Lieutenant Karl-Heinz Reintgen had the job of running the tiny station with rather limited resources. After the radio station was bombed he was left with only five records, three of which were banned. Therefore Reintgen had no option but to play the same two records again and again. It was assumed that the station in Belgrade would have a very limited audience and he played the Lili Marlene for his friend serving with the Afrika Korps who liked the song very much, until he couldn’t take it anymore and resolved never to play it again. What happened next shocked him. The station was inundated with letters and telegrammes from all over Europe requesting the song be played. One of the letters was even from an American, although America was now at war with Germany, requesting that Reintgen play a request for a friend of his. At the time the song was not been played in Germany as the propaganda ministry felt that the sad song was bad for morale and Andersen herself was forbidden to perform as she was consorting with Jews. Now everyone in Germany wanted to hear her sing it and the authorities were forced to back down. Field marshal Rommel also ranked among the legions of fans of the song and requested that it be permanently integrated into the programme. Thus every evening at 9:55, just before the station went off air the sad song echoed over the deserts of North Africa and soldiers on all sides listened in. For a brief moment they could reminisce about they love they had to leave behind back home. The station also proved to be a way of contacting the Allies. On one occasion an RAF pilot, who had been shot down was brought into the station under guard. He had been posted as missing and was anxious that his pregnant wife back in England know that he was alright.
The popularity of the song meant that it could be used for propaganda purposes and the BBC came up with a German version with a subtle anti-Hitler message, to remind the German troops that due to Hitler, their wives were suffering alone at home with the hardships of war. The British were becoming concerned that their soldiers were whistling and singing a German song and when several English soldiers were given a dressing down they responded by saying that someone should write an English version of it.
In 1944 Tommie Connor did just that and composed the English text in only 25 minutes. It was first sung in English by Anne Shelton. Over a million records of the song were sold in a month. It was also sung by Vera Lynn, Edith Piaf, Amanda Lear, Bing Crosby and Perry Como but it was Marlene Dietrich who immortalised the song for the Allies. Dietrich was originally from Germany but joined the American forces to help the fight against her fellow countrymen, something that Germans never forgave her for. She entertained the Allied troops with ‘The Girl under the Lantern’ both on radio and live performances in North-Africa, Sicily, Italy, Alaska, Greenland, Iceland, and England over a three year period. The theme of a soldier longing for his love was something people all over the world could understand, especially in a time of separation that the war had brought.
By the time the war had ended the song had been translated into 48 languages and its popularity didn’t show signs of waning. As late as the 1980s it was still been re-released into the charts. Never before had a single song captivated so many people and it has yet to find its equal.

Isolde of Dublin

The modern Dublin suburb of Chapelizod hardly gives any indication to any ancient link to one of Europe’s most famous love tales Tristan and Isolde. Many, including the Dubliners themselves, are unaware that the place name has nothing to do with lizards and the heroine of the Europe’s most tragic love tales was a Dubliner. I have followed the tales for years and my interest in it was first awoken while doing a seminar on Tristan and Isolde at the University of Vienna many years ago. It was there that I first became familiar with the Celtic roots of the story, which tied into my research on Irish legends. Chapelizod is said to be the burialplace of the Viking princess, though no known grave is known to survive.

Her name has several spelling variations as Iseult and Yseult. We have no proof that she ever existed. According to the popular legend Isolde was a Viking princess from Dublin and the daughter of an Irish king, King Aonghus who is supposed to have lived before the Vikings established the settlement of Dublin in 988 where the Dublin City Municipal Building now stands. Nobody knows for sure just how old the tale is, but the more ancient elements probably have Pictish roots.

The version of the tale I am most familiar is probably also the most complete and was written by Gottfried von Strassburg around 1215. It was this version that Richard Wagner used when he composed his famous opera Tristan and Isolde. It is essentially a mishmash of various Celtic legends and time. For example Isolde is obviously a Viking name, yet French is according to Gottfried the language spoken in Dublin. Earlier versions were composed by Thomas of Britain around 1160 and the 12th century Norman poet Béroul. A film version, albeit one very loosely based on the original tale, was made in 2006 with Sophia Myles playing Isolde.

The tale is something of a ménage à trois between the elderly King Mark of Cornwall, his nephew Tristan of Brittany and Isolde. Isolde is depicted as having fairy like beauty and both she and her mother, also called Isolde, have healing powers. After Tristan does battle with Morholt and beheads him, with echoes of the immram, he wanders adrift in a boat eventually reaching the Irish coast, where he is healed by Isolde. Mark wants to marry Isolde and sends his nephew to woo her on his behalf. There are parallels here with Diarmaid and Gráinne and Deirdre and Naoise. Indeed, Ireland of the 10th century had a wealth of love stories, many of which have long been forgotten. Brangaine, Isoldes’s lady-in-waiting is given a love potion which will make Isolde fall in love with the elderly king. Tristan and Isolde en route to Mark drink the love potion by mistake and fall for each other. They try to hide their love but find it impossible. Mark is furious and banishes his beloved nephew. The two lovers go on the run and are pursued by the jealous Mark and the tale inevitably ends in tragedy.

To give an indication of how old the tale could be a 9th century tower in the present Temple Bar area, called Isolde’s Tower, later rebuilt by the Normans formed part of the Dublin city wall. The river Poodle flowed by its walls. The Poodle itself, part of Dublin’s medieval heritage was forced underground as the city modernised. It rises in the Cookstown area of Tallaght and flows underground through a culvert where it enters the Liffey at Wellington Quay. The tower was demolished when the city walls were removed. Its remains were rediscovered when building work was been carried out between 1993-1997. The modern development was named duly Isolde’s Tower, but the actual remains were hidden away once more behind an iron grill. The developers were supposed to leave access to the Tower but the gate is always locked and a cultural aspect dating from the foundation of the settlement of Dublin itself has been pushed aside. The street leading up to where the tower once stood, Upper Exchange Street, was until recently, in a nod towards the past, called Sráid Iosóilde Uacht. (Isolde’s Street Upper). In a further blow to the city’s cultural heritage reference to Isolde has been recently removed from signage.

Sources:
http://www.patrickcomerford.com/2012/09/in-search-of-isolde-and-her-lost-tower.html
Ó Conghaile, Secret Dublin an Unusual Guide

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Loftus Hall

At first glance it is a big house like so many in the country, but Loftus Hall, located on Hook head in County Wexford has an eerie reputation and is said to be one of the most haunted places on the island. Local folklore has it that the hall was haunted both by the devil and by the ghost of a young woman.

The Redmond family built the original building about 1350 and lived there until the Cromwellian campaign, when their lands were confiscated and it was granted to the Loftus family in the 1650s. Charles Tottenham came to live in the mansion in the middle of the 18th century with his second wife and his daughter Anne.

The family like to play cards in the evening. One night during a storm, a ship unexpectedly arrived at Hook Peninsula. A young gentleman from the ship came to the house and was made welcome and he stayed a few nights. In other versions of the tale he arrived on horseback having lost his way.

Anne and the young man became very close and both had considerable success playing cards. One night as they played the young man dropped a card on the floor. Anne went to pick it up and as she did so she saw to her horror that the man had hooves for feet. She screamed in horror as the young man, realising the game was up vanished in a puff of smoke leaving a hole in the ceiling where he exited. It was said that the hole could be properly repaired. Of course the cloven foot could be explained by a clubfoot, which was much misunderstood at the time.

Though the mysterious stranger had departed his presence remained and poltergeist activity made his presence known. Protestant clergymen were called upon to exorcise the house, but failed. Though the penal Laws were in force the family sought the help of Father Thomas Broaders, who lived locally and he exorcised the house. When he died in 1773 his tomb in Horetown Cemetery was inscribed with the following epitaph:

"here lies the body of Thomas Broaders,

Who did good and prayed for all.

And banished the Devil from Loftus Hall."

Anne never recovered from the shock of that night and lost her mind. She was put in her favourite room in the mansion, known as the Tapestry Room, where she would spend the rest of her days. She refused food and drink and sat with her knees under her chin until she died there in 1775 aged 31. It is said that when she died, they could not straighten her body as her muscles had seized and she was buried in the same sitting position in which she had died.

There may have been a more credible explanation however for her supposed mental illness and it was said that Anne had shared her bed with the young man and suddenly found herself in the ‘family way’. The young man was either no longer around when her pregnancy was discovered or her father disapproved of him. At the time such pregnancies would have been viewed as a disgrace and it would not have been unusual for her to have been locked away out of sight, never to be spoken of again.

Given that her life had been an unhappy one it is not surprising that her ghost remained on in her beloved Tapestry Room.

A number of encounters with Anne’s ghost are recorded. The father of the Rev. George Reade stayed with a large party at the Hall some time about 1790, and was given the Tapestry Chamber to sleep in. He described how something heavy leapt upon his bed, growling like a dog. The curtains were torn back and the clothes stripped from the bed. At first he assumed that someone was playing a trick, but searching the room he found no one and the door was locked. Several years later, when the 2nd Marquess of Ely was at the Hall, his valet, Shannon, was put in the Tapestry Chamber and woke the whole household by his screams in the night. He reported that the curtains of the bed had been violently torn back and he saw a tall lady dressed in stiff brocaded silk. He refused to spend another night in the room.

When the Rev. George Reade and his father came to stay George chose the Tapestry Chamber as his bedroom. As he stayed up late reading a magazine, he saw the door open and a tall lady in a stiff dress pass silently through the room to a closet in the comer, where she disappeared. He did not realise that he had just witnessed a ghostly apparition until it happened again the next night and he tried to grab her. His arm went right through her. The ghost does not appear to have terrorised him and although aware of the tale continued to sleep in that particular room whenever he found himself at the hall.

This was not the case with Rev. Charles Dale, tutor to the young marquess, who slept in the room in the latter half of the 19th century and though taciturn about what he had witnessed was left visibly shaken. By 1868 The Tapestry Chamber had become a billiards-room but spirits do not appreciate changes to their haunts and the servants reported that her ghost made considerable noise by knocking the billiard balls about.

It was perhaps because of the continued hauntings that the hall was demolished in 1870 and rebuilt. The present structure dates from this time and was the residence of the 4th Marquess of Ely. In 1917 Loftus Hall was bought by the Sisters of Providence and turned into a convent and a school for young girls interested in joining the order and later by the Rossminians from 1937 until 1983. In 1983 reopened it as "Loftus Hall Hotel", which operated until 1990s. The site has been examined by a paranormal investigator who claimed to have felt a presence there. The site stands on 70 acres of land and includes five reception rooms and twenty-two bedrooms. It was sold again in 2008 to an unknown buyer.

The Recess Boycott

This summer driving through Connemara I pulled into Sraith Salach, (Willow Stream) as Recess is now officially called, on the N59 Galway Clifden Road. All Gaeltacht villages throughout Ireland now only have the Irish name, though it caused such a furore in Dingle/ Daingean that they made an exception. The village consists of a shop, pub and marble shop. My friends were eager to photo the statue of the Connemara giant designed to lure tourists into stopping.

I went across to the shop and addressed the local shop assistant in Irish. I speak Irish, but it is useless to me if I never use it. Though they appeared to understand they answered me in English. I continued in Irish and they became aggravated. This is Connemara- Irish is sometimes welcome, sometimes not and impossible to say in advance where it is welcome and where it will be met with hostility.

Still wondering about the situation I just experienced we drove past a primary school and I suddenly thought of Bríd Ní Dhomhnaill, no relative, but subject of a bizarre boycott of the eighties which would last for five years.

The school opened in 1975 and though situated in the Gaeltacht, English was the language of instruction there. The new principal, Bríd Ní Dhomhnaill, opposed this. According to Ní Dhomhnaill only one parent was adamant that English remain the language of instruction and she went and spoke to the parents individually explaining the importance of Irish to them. She also tried to promote the rich cultural heritage of the area to her pupils, which was undeniably intertwined with the Irish language. In the eyes of her enemies she became a ’language fanatic’. Today it is slowly becoming obvious that we are terrible at languages, whether continental or our ‘first official language’. What Bríd Ni Dhomhnaill, as an educational professional, wanted to do was to teach her pupils enough Irish so that they would have more than the pathetic cúpla focal, which would today be seen as an advantage. In the eighties, however the local parents saw emigration as the only future for their children and believed Irish would be of little use.

She also crossed swords with the Catholic Church when she demanded that the mass be said in Irish only as opposed to bilingual, which usually meant the odd Irish word here and there but mostly English. She claimed that the priest, Father Gabriel Charles, could not, or would not speak the language of the local people. Religion is a very personal thing and it would be no exaggeration to say that elderly parishioners would have been more comfortable with Irish than English. The priest warned her against meddling in church affairs and that if she continued to do so he would press the Department of Education for her dismissal.

The problem with that is that there were no reasonable grounds to dismiss her. She did her job to the letter and though malicious allegations of incompetence were made against her, the Department of Education could not find fault with her. Nevertheless parents withdrew their children from her class and engaged the services of a private teacher. Though her union, the INTO, supported her they could not resolve the matter.

The boycott continued and though the private teacher appointed by the parents was removed she was replaced by another teacher, paid by the department of education, a bizarre move.

The strange thing is that nobody was really sure what the boycott was all about; was it that she had challenged the church on a civil rights matter or that she was doing the job she was paid to do? Possibly part of the problem was that she was too enthusiastic about Irish. She saw the Irish speaking culture of the locality being eroded and tried to stem the tide, determined that the Irish language would not become a foreign language as it had in other parts of the country.

Another teacher would have just gone with the flow and acquiesced to whatever demands parents made, but Bríd Ní Dhomhnaill was a woman of principle with a strong sense of right and wrong. She described her predicament as being ‘recessed’, whereby although she had done no wrong she was bypassed by both parents and the Department of Education. She still had to be paid for turning up to an empty classroom. It was a bizarre situation that should never have happened or gone on as long as it did.

Many hoped that when Father Charles was replaced by Father John Cosgrove that the situation would improve. It did not and the parents were as determined as ever that English remain the language of a Gaeltacht school. The school eventually closed in 1991 and Bríd Ní Dhomhnaill was transferred to a Gaelscoil in Galway city. Today the boycott has been forgotten about, though still has the power to provoke strong reactions if mentioned in conversation. Many in Galway, a county which sees itself as a champion of Irish culture would prefer it that way. Even today there are teachers who are afraid of being too enthusiastic about teaching Irish for fear of aggravating reluctant pupils and drawing the ire on the parents, yet a common complaint is that people cannot speak a word of Irish after twelve years of learning the subject. For me as a language teacher it is disturbing that though have improved for Gaeilgeoirí it still happens that the standard of Irish taught in school is dictated by parents and not the Department of Education.