Paddy blocks the way and tells me it is evensong in an hour and a half and that visiting is over. He's a jolly man, like Santa Claus in his chubbiness and rosy cheeks, with dark, priestly garb and a black coat. We speak of evensong and Dublinia, the Viking museum around the corner, then we're off. He tells me how his Dublin accent differs from the countryside because of that; well, plus the Normans, the English, etc.
We speak of the Celts and how they were a small tribe in Northern India / Pakistan / Southern Afghanistan, and their three migrations. The first I don't remember where it ended up, but the second sacks Rome, prompting Furious Calmenius to reorganize the army into something to defend against the next wave of Celts. The third migration bypasses Rome and winds up in Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, but Furious' Roman army eventually goes on to conquer Greece, Carthage, and, well, watch Gladiator.
He tells me of the Normans and how the Queen of England still holds the title of Duke of Normandy. Like Dublin, the Normans hail from Vikings, but they developed very quickly. Armor, chivalry, etc. eventually roll into England and Ireland. They're jerks and wipe out Anglo-Saxon folklore, cementing their victory in England with a suffocation of heritage (though J.R.R. Tolkein brings it back in "Lord of the Rings", and "orc" is Saxon for "invader").
The Normans roll into Ireland where Celtic women were highly valued and fought on the battlefield alongside men. To the Normans, women were chattel - property - from the Norman word for "cattle". This leads women to get the right to vote in 1928, and only thirty year-old, married women at that. Apparently, there are at least two country clubs that still don't allow women to be members. Stupid Normans.
We discuss the special forces and how MI5 goes back to the court of Queen Elizabeth I. I want to revert and ask about the indigenous groups that lived in Ireland before the Celts, but we must be off, and Paddy remains at the door, both blocking and inviting, lake Garfield the cat in black and cool, framing light.
Allow me a momentary departure from story for revolution in Ireland: the Easter Rebellion of 1916. The worst planned and executed of all Irish rebellions, and yet the watershed that brings the island their independence. England had heard of a rebellion on Easter Sunday, for which they were prepared, but the genius... ? ... the genius of their plan is it occurs on Easter Monday. The English stop a Scandinavian ship full of weapons from Germany (hardly an incognito sort of ship), and the battle for that day is won without a shot. Thousands of people drop out of the rebellion, and the English let their guard down.
What I didn't realize is that the rebellion was, in fact, scheduled for Sunday, but it wasn't until late, late Sunday night that 1,500 people decided they were going to rebel after all. They take so long in deciding that they run into Monday, attacking with handguns and are summarily defeated by the full power of WWI Britain (complete with Naval ships shelling Dublin). They are imprisoned and pelted with curses and vegetables by their own people.
To put it all to rest, the British sweepingly arrested more than twice the number of people involved and without trial sentenced ninety to death, putting fifteen in front of the firing squad. This stepping around the law, not the rebellion itself, enrages the Irish to the point of picking up arms and fighting a nasty, guerilla war until Michael Collins signs a treaty with Britain in 1923. Later, it becomes a republic, but Northern Ireland remains loyalist and many are upset and feel sold-out. The civil war starts and Collins is killed by his own countrymen; Seamus tells us of The Wind that Shakes the Barley, a great film about the Civil War, which won the Palm P'Or at Cannes a few years ago.
