Magic in the margins: a comparison of two ‘trickster’ figures for April Fools’ Day

By Yvette Campbell, Assistant Librarian, Special Collections & Archives

The fool from RB 39 – [Printed Book of Hours (1526) with manuscript illuminations]

April Fools’ Day (April 1^st) is a day often associated with misbehaving and tricking others into believing false stories or tales. The origins of the day, while complex, may have had their roots in pagan festivals marking the beginning of spring. The day evolved over centuries to become commonly affiliated with a trickster or jester figure who since medieval times has often been associated with inverting the social order and turning the world upside down.

Recently, I came across the names of two figures noted in the margins of two very different manuscripts in the Russell Library. Both figures have been associated with magic and trickery, and who in their own ways, were responsible for inverting the social order in their respective times: Simon Magus, the Magician and the Irish druid Mogh Ruith.  

“Saint Peter and Simon Magus” by Benozzo Gozzoli (Benozzo di Lese di Sandro). Image: Creative Commons

RB 71 is a medieval manuscript produced in the late 13^th century by a single scribe. The Latin text contains works by St. Augustine. What caught my eye when cataloguing this item was a small annotation in the margins on fo.32r referring to a paragraph discussing Simon Magus.  

Simon Magus (or Simon the Magician) was identified in Christian writings as a dangerous individual of the 1^st century AD, who possessed great magical powers and attempting to trick followers of Christ into bestowing his powers to them in exchange for money and influence. He was challenged by St. Peter to change his ways and was universally acknowledged in ecclesiastical writings as the archetypal heretic of the Christian Church.  

A former owner of RB 71 has annotated ‘SIMON MAGU-MUS HERET[IC]’ beside the paragraph in question. Medieval owners of such manuscripts often wrote in the margins of medieval manuscripts to draw attention to what they felt were important pieces of information. The margins were frequently left large enough in many scholastic texts to accommodate such annotations or glosses.

Annotation on fo.32r of RB 71 – Miscellaneous works of St. Augustine

In comparison, PB 11 is a 19^th century Gaelic manuscript originally from St. Colman’s College in Fermoy that similarly mentions another very famous magician in the margins – the legendary Irish druid known as Mogh Ruith (or Mug Ruith).  

This Irish manuscript which was relocated to the Russell Library at Maynooth in 2013 was copied from the Book of Lismore (a late 15^th century Gaelic manuscript) – in 1860 by Joseph Long of Whitechurch and gives a detailed account of the boundaries and history of Fermoy and its chieftains. It alludes to how the land was given to Mogh Ruith. 

The annotation reads: “Mogh Ruith…was a celebrated Munster druid who flourished in the 3^rd century. For a full account of his exploits and magic feats, see the Forbuis Dromdamhghaire [Forbhuis Droma Damhghaire] – a curious story of the reign of Cormac Mac Art.” 

Mogh Ruith – PB 11 – Tract on the topography of the two Fermoys copied from the Book of Lismore

Mogh Ruith (“Slave of the Wheel”) was a formidable blind magician, sometimes compared to Merlin in Arthurian legend, who intervened in an epic magical conflict between Cormac Mac Art and Munster King Fiacha Muillethan at Knocklong. As soon as he bargained for a steep reward of land, the wizard used a spear to release the waters of Munster to drown Cormac’s rival druids and banished them from the land, turning some to stone with his breath of dark cloud. Cormac Mac Art felt like a fool for trusting the old pagan spirits of Ireland.

Wizards Unite : comparisons and contrast

Both magicians are based on legend with mythological elements – one recorded in the margins of a Gaelic manuscript and the other in the margins of a medieval Latin text; one in the Christian tradition and the other in pagan myths and legends with some overlap between the two figures. 

In later tradition, Mogh Ruith was said to have travelled to the East to become a student under none other than…Simon Magus! It was claimed Simon Magus helped Mogh Ruith to build his famous flying machine called the roth rámach. According to the medieval Irish apocryphal tradition, Mogh Ruith was said to have been responsible for the beheading of St. John the Baptist. 

The dance of death at Basel: death and the jester. Lithograph by G. Danzer after H. Hess. Wellcome Collection. Public Domain Mark. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Furthermore, in some Irish legends Simon Magus coincidentally came to be associated with druidism. The word ‘druid’ was sometimes translated into Latin as ‘magus’, and Simon Magus was said to be known in Ireland as Simon the Druid. By contrast, stories about Mogh Ruith are set in various periods of Irish myths with some tales placing him in Jerusalem at the dawn of Christianity under the tutelage of Simon. 

While no fools themselves, these two trickster figures certainly succeeded in inverting the social order for a time, attempting to make fools of the people who chose to either follow or confront them. The similarities and overlap between the two have been shown, not least that two former owners’ – centuries apart – highlighted their names in the margins of two completely different manuscripts in our collection – a perfect comparison for April Fools’ Day! 

For access to our manuscript collections and other materials for consultation, please make an appointment with us by emailing Library.Russell@mu.ie or phoning (01) 708 3890

Further reading:

Shingurova, Tatiana (2018). The Story of Mog Ruith: Perceptions of the Local Myth in Seventeenth-Century Ireland. Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, Vol. 38., pp. 231-258

The First Popular Picture Book for Children – Orbis Sensualium Pictus

By Yvette Campbell, Assistant Librarian, Special Collections & Archives

Everyone knows there is nothing like receiving (and giving!) a book for Christmas, especially for a child. Have you ever wondered what was the first popular picture book for children? Well look no further for a little bit of background information to use as a conversation piece around the cosy Christmas fire this year.

‘The Master and the Boy | Magister & Puer’ – from the 1777 edition

While cataloguing the early printed books in the Russell Library, I came across this charming and unassuming octavo sized book with the most exquisite but simple illustrations. John Comenius’ Orbis Sensualium Pictus (or The World of Things Obvious to the Senses drawn in Pictures) was a popular 17th century school book used in Europe for “the purpose of introducing boys to the knowledge of things as well as of Latin Terms, and furnishing their minds with a stock of useful ideas; in which, after many years of labour, it is no[t] uncommon thing to find them miserably deficient.” (William Jones, editor 1777)

Gymnastics and music (1777)

John Amos Comenius ( 1592-1670) published the Orbis in 1658 as an encyclopedic teaching device for young children that is also generally known as the first children’s picture book to be widely used. Comenius was an influential Czech teacher and education reformer, whom orphaned at a young age, did not attend school himself until he was sixteen. Comenius was an early advocate of formal universal education for all children including equality in female education, believing that every child should get to know themselves and the world by forming ideas through unrestricted play using pictures rather than words.

The Orbis features over 150 intaglio engravings made from copperplate prints showing everyday activities known to the world from cookery, making honey, learning the weather and studying virtues such as kindness, patience and fortitude. It also features a visualisation of the sounds animals make to better understand the world and the creatures that inhabit it. The book is divided into chapters on the physical and metaphysical world with an accompanying illustration. Each part of the illustration is numbered in an instructional manner and each number corresponds to a line of text. The text is printed in double columns in both English and Latin. This revolutionary format of illustrations coupled with simple sentences paved the way for the modern picture book for children that we see today.

‘Men are wont also to swim over Waters’ | ‘Solent etiam tranare aquas’ (1777)

There are references in the preface on the importance of allowing children to learn through their own senses and the importance of picture books as an instructional tool in the early stage of development before learning more “harsh” subjects such as grammar. Comenius writes:

‘Let it be given to children into their hands to delight themselves withal as they please, with the sight of the pictures, and making them as familiar to themselves as may be, and that even at home before they be put to school.‘…Then let them be examined ever and anon (especially now in the school) what this thing or that thing is, and is called, so that they may see nothing which they know not how to name, and that they can name nothing which they cannot shew.’

The book also has a lovely positive conclusion: ‘Go on now and read other good books’

This book not only teaches children about the world and how to name each object in Latin; it also teaches us today about how society lived in the 17th and 18th centuries, what educators knew and taught about the world at the time, what they felt was important to know and how children learned. This book will be of historical significance for those interested in primary and early childhood education.

The twelfth edition of John Comenius’ Orbis Sensualium Pictus is now catalogued and available on LibrarySearch. For access to this and other materials for consultation, please make an appointment by emailing Library.Russell@mu.ie or phoning (01) 708 3890.

Happy Christmas and a peaceful New Year to all our viewers and followers of MU Library Treasures from all in Special Collections and Archives at MU Library.

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The Superpower of words: a word’s power is derived from its meaning

by Catherine Ahearne, Senior Library Assistant, Special Collections and Archives

“Handle them carefully, for words have more power than atom bombs.” -Pearl Strachan Hurd but when your weapon of choice is words you need to know and understand their meaning to derive the full effect from them. This is where dictionaries come to play an important role.

A dictionary is a record of popular culture at the time of publication. Language is not inert, it is constantly changing and evolving, slang becomes mainstream, words become obsolete. So, when words fall out of fashion they are removed from dictionary a practice that still occurs today.

Samuel Johnson bravely undertook to produce the first English Dictionary on the scale of his continental contemporaries, it was a nine-year process and involved heavy editing. It surpassed its predecessors through careful definitions of words and its richness of literary quotations. It is not simply a monumental dictionary but a living literary and critical text. Here in the Russell Library we have a copy of the A dictionary of the English language. 11th ed. corrected and revised / with considerable additions from the eighth edition of the original.

DeMaria “A definition is the only way whereby the meaning of words can be known without leaving room for contest about it”. Our use and understanding of definitions change over time. I am going to examine some changes from the definitions laid down in the early dictionaries.

When searching the pamphlets in the collection of the Russell Library you will often come across the word Apology in the title:

• An apology for the system of public and classical education
• An apology for a work entitled Contrasts : being a defence of the assertions advanced in that publication against the various attacks lately made upon it
• An apology for the system of Wesleyan Methodism : being a reply to Mr. Mark Robinson’s Observations on the same subject

Today we would associate this word as an act of saying that you are sorry for a wrong that you have done. But in 1799 it was a defense or excuse, so each of the pamphlets is a defense of the topic in question.

Image from A dictionary of the English language. – Russell Library

Weird is not in the 1799 edition of the dictionary. In modern English this word is known to mean strange, unusual, or not natural. In special collections there is a title “ The Weird of the ‘Silken Thomas : an episode of Anglo-Irish history, (1900) Weird is in fact a word of Scottish origin, and means “a person’s destiny”. Therefore, the title of the book means “The Destiny of the Silken Thomas.”

Infatuated is a word that we are all familiar having a very strong feeling of love or attraction for someone or something that is short lived. Johnson’s dictionary defines the meaning as “to strike with folly; to deprive understanding”. Here is a 1680 sheet that uses infatuate in the way that Johnson understood it. The sick may have advice for nothing. Though the world is daily pester’d by unskilful pretenders to physick, who infatuate the people with their printed papers, wherein they pretend to perform matters beyond reason.

Image from A dictionary of the English language. – Russell Library

Image from A dictionary of the English language. – Russell Library

Womanise we know to mean a person who has temporary relationships with women, womanise in 1799 had a very different connotation, it meant to emasculate; to effeminate; to soften.  

We can recognize the word livid to be associated with anger and temper. But in the 18^th century it meant to discolour with a blow; black and blue. While not identical in meaning you can associate one meaning with the emotion and the other with the action of the emotion described.

Image from A dictionary of the English language. – Russell Library

Image from A dictionary of the English language. – Russell Library

There are also words that cannot help but incite an emotional reaction Excise for example Johnson describes as “A hateful tax levied upon commodities and adjudged not by the common judges of property, but wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid”.

A word’s power is derived from its meaning and what the reader understands each word to mean. So, as we go about our lives, we need to be mindful of the words we use.

“Be careful with your words. Once they are said, they can be only forgiven, not forgotten.” -Unknown

The Maynooth Montaigne

By Guest writer Prof John O’Brien Emeritus Professor of Durham University

Never judge a book by its cover! This age-old advice is never truer than in the case of the Maynooth copy of the Essais by the French writer, Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592). Externally, the book is a mid-to late 19^th-century ‘Spanish pattern’ binding. Its real value lies within. It is, for a start, a printing of the first posthumous edition of the Essais overseen by Montaigne’s adoptive daughter, Marie de Gournay (1565-1645). Only a few hundred of these were printed in 1595, so the copy has some rarity value. Yet there are three other characteristics of the Maynooth Montaigne which make it a truly exceptional copy.

In the first place, this copy was a gift from Gournay to an acquaintance of hers, Henri de Beringhen (1603-92), whose aunt ran a literary salon that Gournay attended in the 1620s. Her dedication to Beringhen is shown in the illustration [011]. Although partly cropped, it is perfectly legible. We have almost no other copies of the 1595 edition with dedications by Gournay, so this in itself is valuable evidence of her circle of friends.

Secondly, the Maynooth Montaigne contains a number of ink corrections. About 17 of these are to be found in most copies of the 1595 printing and will have been done either by Gournay or by the printshop as the sheets came off the press. Over and above these, however, there are additional corrections in Gournay’s own hand, one of which is illustrated here [053]. In fact, the Maynooth Montaigne is second only to a copy now in Antwerp in having such a large number of corrections by Gournay herself. They constitute extremely important proof of the time and effort she continued to expend on getting the text of the Essais right.

One set of corrections, however, is without precedent in any other copy of the 1595 Essais. A passage at the end of chapter 17 of book 2 contains Montaigne’s praise of Gournay. For reasons which are unclear, but may be related to her own ascent as a writer, Gournay cut down this passage. Her alterations are shown on the Maynooth Essais [452]. They correspond to the text of the Essais printed in 1625, so we can be sure that it was around that date that she gave this presentation copy to Beringhen.

Illustration 053

Illustration 452

Finally, the Maynooth Montaigne contains reset sheets on pp. 63 and 64. Late in the printing cycle, it was discovered that text had been omitted. It was quickly added in some copies. This is an exceedingly rare feature found to date in only three other copies worldwide.

If just one of these features were present in the Maynooth Montaigne, that would make it of great interest. But having three such pushes it into the exceptional category, of outstanding value to scholars of Montaigne and of the history of printing.

Further reading: John O’Brien, ‘Gournay’s Gift: A Special Presentation Copy of the 1595 Essais of Montaigne’, The Seventeenth Century, 29/4 (2014), pp. 317-36.

Exploring Special Collections through Virtual Reality

By Dr Heidi Campbell, Digital Engagement Curator at Maynooth University

My name is Heidi Campbell and I am the Digital Engagement Curator at Maynooth University Library. I was already familiar with the breath-taking Russell Library when I first joined Maynooth University (MU) in January 2022. It was therefore a wonderful opportunity for me to develop my skills and knowledge of virtual tours by making the first one for MU and St Patrick’s Pontifical University (SPPU) of the Russell Library.

Fig. 2 A photograph of the marble statue of King George III in the foyer of the Russell library with the 3D camera secured on a tall tripod.

In the last 3 years virtual spaces have been at the forefront of development for most public venues, from museums, libraries and state buildings to hotels, recreation centres and residential properties. Virtual tours of exhibitions were already a developing phenomenon by the time the pandemic hit and so institutions who had systems in place were able to remain active and virtually open to the public.

Culture Night and the first virtual tour

While attendance numbers of in-person events improved significantly throughout 2022, hybrid events remained the most popular, allowing those who were unable or unwilling to travel to still feel part of the event.  And so, Culture Night and the Russell Library’s exhibition, “Home and Husbandry” provided the first chance to test out our equipment and platform.

Please view the tour here: https://app.cloudpano.com/tours/5rZjnmORm

Fig. 3 .Screenshot from the virtual tour “Home and Husbandry” showing the bubbles that signify information stops and directional feet in the background linking to the next area.

With this initial tour I established a welcome area starting on the ground floor where I described the Conservation lab and the King George III statue and provided a general introduction to the Russell Library and St Patrick’s Pontifical University. Moving into the exhibition proper I used a blend of text information stops and directional bubbles. The limits of the platform meant we had to choose between text and image for each object; or text and a link to the collection for each object and so we went with the latter for this tour.

Testing the Style – the second virtual tour

Fig. 4 Image of the item display in the information stop of the second virtual tour. There is an high quality image and detailed description of the object.

I approached the next virtual tour with a developed sense of style and process. We decided that images and text would be better for the collection as the exhibition cabinets and the type of camera do not lend themselves to viewing the objects clearly online. Learning much from the previous tour it became clear that experiencing the virtual space, and viewing the objects clearly, are the most important features of a virtual exhibition. So, for the next exhibition; ‘The Second Reformation and Catholic–Protestant Relations in Pre-Famine Ireland: Bicentennial Perspectives,’ I changed several features. This time I began the tour directly in the Russell Library reading room, facing the bust of James Warren Doyle. Each object in the cases were photographed by Special Collections and Archives staff and I was able to add these images to the software to display them alongside the text labels. This display allows the audience a close and detailed image of the object alongside a full description of the item.

You can view this tour here.

Virtual Christmas Advent Experience

With the Christmas season fast approaching, I was involved in another project, the MU Library advent calendar. For several years staff had worked on making an interactive advent calendar but difficulties in software and hosting meant the project had never been completed. I proposed the idea of using our virtual tour equipment and platform. I suggested using the information points as “advent windows” in a 3D virtual space as an alternative form of calendar.

Fig. 6 A screenshot of the virtual advent experience showing the festive style digital windows within the virtual Russell Library reading room

You can explore the experience here: https://app.cloudpano.com/tours/Sw_VcP402

The experience consists of multiple information spots around one point in the room. The viewer needs to turn, using their mouse or finger (depending on your device) to view the entire virtual space and find the correct day.

Behind each number is an image and text connected with the specific theme. For 2022 we decided to focus on the beautiful collections of St Patrick’s Pontifical University. With almost 800 views to date, the advent experience has proved a great success and a very proud moment of inspiration.

What is Next?

Looking to the future, exploring the collections through virtual reality is a method that will continue to grow and develop. We plan to create virtual tours of all exhibitions in the Russell library allowing anyone from anywhere in the world to experience these events. All tours and experiences will then be kept in perpetuity on our website to continue to aid research and development. I have ideas and goals for other virtual experiences to promote engagement with our collections, so stay tuned to the MU Library Treasures Blog and our social media channels to see what we have in store!

Fig. 7. Image of Heidi Campbell sitting in the Russell Library reading room with a laptop open editing the virtual tour. The 3D camera is on a small tripod next to the laptop.

A King’s Confessor: Henry Essex Edgeworth, 20th January 1793.

By Ruairi Nolan, Library Assistant, formerly of MU Library

While conducting research in the Russell Library I came across a book which caught my interest. It was the Memoires de M.L’Abbé Edgeworth de Firmont dernier Confesseur de Louis XVI by C. Sneyd Edgeworth, translated into English by Edmund Burke, and published in 1815 in Paris. Henry Essex Edgeworth, (1745-1807) was known also as Abbé Edgeworth in France, where he had lived most of his life from an early age.

Edgeworth was the final confessor to King Louis XVI, the French monarch who fell victim to the guillotine during the French Revolution. The King sent for Edgeworth personally – Edgeworth had developed a friendship with Princess Elizabeth, the King’s sister in the late 1780s-90s and came highly recommended.

Figure 1. Abbé Edgeworth

The book is one of many in the collections that is directly linked to the history of the foundation of the College. The effects of the French Revolution influenced the establishment of St. Patrick’s College. A number of French professors came to teach in the aftermath of the Revolution. L’Abbe Edgeworth was offered the presidency of the College in 1795 which he turned down.

In Edgeworth’s account, we are told the narrative of events which brought the Abbé to King Louis on the night of 20-21 January 1793 and we are introduced to the gut-wrenching first moment of when the two are alone. Edgeworth, thus far composed and in control of his emotions loses strength and begins to weep, prompting the King to follow suit:

‘Forgive me, sir…for a long time, I have lived among my enemies, and habit has in some degree familiarised me to them; but when I behold a faithful subject…a different language reaches my heart, and in spite of my utmost efforts, I am melted’.

From this we receive a detailed retelling of the evening spent with the monarch right through to the morning, he speaks of Louis’ final hour with his family where ‘Not only tears were shed, and sobs were heard, but piercing cries’. In the morning, the two were constantly bothered by paranoid officials and officers worried that the monarch would take his own life to avoid the shame of execution to which the king responded: ‘These people see daggers and poison everywhere; they fear that I shall destroy myself…they little know me! To kill myself would indeed be weakness’.

At 8 o’clock on the morning of 21 January 1793, the King was brought to the Place de la Révolution. The streets of Paris were so crowded with silent spectators that it took two hours to reach the site of execution. Once they arrived, the gendarmes attempted to bind the King’s hands and chop off his hair to which he exclaimed: ‘do what you have been ordered, but you shall never bind me’. (Fig 2)

Figure 2. King Louis Looks to Edgeworth

Edgeworth claims that the King looked to him in that moment as if seeking guidance, at which time he reassured him that this final humiliation served only to bring him closer to Christ in that he is suffering the same humilities as the son of God. Edgeworth is noted to have proclaimed ‘Fils de St Louis, Montez au ciel! / Son of St Louis, ascend to heaven!’ – though when asked himself about it, he could not recall having said anything.

A footnote to the memoirs highlight that the King was astonished that the Abbé chose to accompany him to the scaffold – he had assumed he would give flight once the night had passed. When the execution took place Edgeworth did become acutely aware of his position and feared he was next for the guillotine and he ‘thought it time to quit the scaffold…I saw myself invested by 20 or 30,000 men at arms…all eyes upon me’. Edgeworth had managed to blend in with the crowd, he simply looked like another spectator once he made it deeper into the crowd. (Fig 3)

Figure 3. Ascend Louis

France remained a dangerous place for him, he became known as King Louis’ final confessor and he noted in his memoir that a confidant expressed a dire warning: ‘Fly, my dear sir, from this land of tigers that are now let loose in it…it is not Paris alone, but France itself you must leave. For you I do not see a safe place in it’. (Fig 4)

Figure 4. Fly Abbé

Edgeworth remained in France for the next three years, evading arrest and hiding away. He eventually left to rejoin the then-exiled royal family, spending much time in Germany and Russia. He had refused a pension from the British Government. He died in Mittau, Russia (now in Latvia) while ministering for French prisoners of war on 22 May 1807. He was cared for in his dying days by the daughter of Louis XVI, further highlighting the close relationship he had with the family.

Sources:

Liam Swords, The Green Cockade (Dublin, 1989).

Letters from the Abbé Edgeworth to his friends, written between the years 1777 and 1807; with memoirs of his life (London, 1818).

Charles Sneyd Edgeworth, Mémoires de m. l’abbé Edgeworth de Firmont : dernier confesseur de Louis XVI (Paris, 1815).

A Seventeenth Century Camera: Johann Zahn and the study of optics

by Alexandra Caccamo Special Collections Librarian

Digitisation is an important part of our work in the library. It increases access to our collections and helps us make them available online to a greater number of people. With the development of our Digitisation Suite and the arrival of the scanner to the library, it is interesting to look at our collection for early descriptions of the camera. 

Scanner installation in the John Paul II Library, Maynooth
MU Digital Library: “Something is happening in the @library_MU Scanning Suite! #NewTech #ExcitingThingsOnTheWay https://t.co/m13Ay37nZI” / Twitter

The Russell Library holds a number of books that deal with the study of optics. One such item is by Johann Zahn (1641-1707) Zahn was the canon of the Premonstratensian monastery of Oberzell near Würzburg. He had an interest in natural philosophy and published several works, with the most notable being ‘Oculus Artificialis Teledioptricus Sive Telescopium‘ or The Long Distance Artificial Eye or Telescope. This work was published in 1685 in Würzburg. 

Plate depicting Zhan’s design for a portable camera obscura

The book is a treatise on optical instruments and their uses. It describes magic lanterns, telescopes, microscopes and other projection types. Zahn also outlines and illustrates the first portable camera obscura. A camera obscura consists of an entire darkened room with a small hole at one end through which an image is projected. It should be noted that he was not the first to describe a camera-like device. The Han Chinese philosopher, Mozi (c. 470 – 291 BC) described the principle behind the camera obscura and detailed how light travels in straight lines from its source thus inverting an image when projected through a small hole. However, Zahn was the first to publish a design for a portable mirror-reflex camera, which you can see here. Although it is still relatively large, and perhaps not what we would think of as portable today, it was innovative at the time. This design did not become a reality until almost 140 years later. 

Plate showing how light travels in straight lines.

‘Oculus Artificialis Teledioptricus…’ has 190 pages. The title page is printed in black and red ink, with an additional richly engraved title page facing the printed title page. This engraving depicts an oculus artifci, literally artificial eye or a telescope. The book is illustrated throughout and contains 8 double-page tables, 30 engraved plates and numerous engraved and woodcut illustrations. Many of the plates are quite elaborate including one examining optics and the structure of the eye. 

Plate showing the structure of the eye.

There are also a number of plates which depict the refraction of light. 

Plates showing the refraction of light

Plates showing the refraction of light

Although, cameras have come a long way since the seventeenth century, we are still developing new ways of capturing images. In the New Year, we hope to be able to image, digitise and share more of our collections online. 

Jack Cornfield in ‘Liberty’: Exploring the Creative Process of Seán Ó Faoláin

By Róisín Berry, Archivist, MU Library 

Whether writing a blog post, a short story, or a novel, the creative process of each writer is unique and can vary from project to project. One of the most exciting aspects of being an archivist is examining how a work of literature can evolve, from a few scribbled notes on a scrap of paper to a final published work. This process can involve the development of themes, characters, timelines, and revisions, supported often by extensive research and fact-checking. Understanding this process can provide researchers with a much richer experience of a writer and their work. 

Foreign Affairs and Other Stories by Seán Ó Faoláin

In 2018, Maynooth University Library was fortunate enough to acquire a fascinating letter written by writer Seán Ó Faoláin (1900-1991). The four-page document reveals how Ó Faoláin researched the main character, Jack Cornfield, for his short story ‘Liberty’ published in a collection of his work, Foreign Affairs and Other Stories in 1976. Ó Faoláin was regarded as one of Ireland’s leading short-story writers at the time. Not confined to fiction, he also produced travelogues, literary criticisms, and historical biographies. The letter is dated 24th February 1973 and is addressed to Dr Burke, who appears to be a mental health professional. In the document, Ó Faoláin describes his short story character, Cornfield, and outlines plot lines for the story, requesting that the doctor assess their feasibility. Cornfield is a patient in a psychiatric asylum, and the fictional story revolves around his relationships, sanity, and freedom.

Ó Faoláin notes in his letter that the story is based on the memory of a man who used to sit outside the psychiatric asylum in Cork. He recalls him on fine days sitting outside the front gate on the low wall backing on to the fields above the River Lee, chatting with anybody who passed. Ó Faoláin mentions his wife knowing him a little as a girl, her father having worked in the asylum at the time, and notes ‘between them they gave me the image of a quiet and cultivated and gentlemanly sort of chap.’ With this ‘meagre memory,’ Ó Faoláin describes how he has invented a history for Cornfield to ‘explain why this apparently sane chap was there and what he may have been through.’

Letter from Seán Ó Faoláin to Dr Burke on Jack Cornfield character

In the document, Ó Faoláin asks Dr Burke specific questions as he attempts to create a plausible backstory for his character, which includes a violent attack on his wife and the potential repercussions. He enquires ‘Here is the first practical q.:- She commits him to asylum. Is this possible? Or was it ever? But she agrees later that he be sent at her expense to a private mental clinic (? Right word?).’ He also observes ‘No least sign of instability has been given by Cornfield since he was first committed. Yet he continues in the public asylum year after year, tacitly recognised as harmless…and bit by bit he achieves so much respect…that he also achieves this liberty, and virtual equality so that he can wander about the grounds, stroll outside the gates, sit on the wall outside, smoke and chat.’

Detail of letter to Dr Burke

Ó Faoláin observes ‘I am sure you must be chuckling at all these complications and I rather feel myself that so many would bend the credibility of the story.’ He refers to the boyhood image of this patient sitting happily outside the asylum in the sun writing verses and reading books that has stayed with him for fifty years, concluding ‘…as I don’t know his story I am obsessed by the wish to invent it. I suspect I’ve been too inventive.’

An enthralling insight into an artistic mind at work. For further information on our Seán Ó Faoláin collection, please contact: library.specialcollections@mu.ie

Seeking the Foundations of the Canadian Church

By Professor Mark McGowan
Library Visiting Research Professor in the Arts and Humanities Institute at Maynooth University

My current project is tentatively titled Pilgrims in the Snow: A History of Catholics in Canada, which is intended to be a thematic synthesis of the principal developments, controversies, and challenges within Canada’s largest Christian denomination. There has not been a history of the Catholic Church in Canada, written in English, in over twenty years. Because of the strong influence of Irish and Scottish Catholic settler/colonists in many regions of the country, it seemed appropriate to dedicate a chapter on the Celtic presence in the Church. For part of the material for this chapter, I am grateful for the opportunity to undertake research at Maynooth University as a Library Visiting Research Professor in the Arts and Humanities Institute.

One of the influences was certainly the way in which Canadian bishops in fledgling dioceses in the 18^th and 19^th centuries depended on the recruitment of priests and women religious from Ireland and Scotland. The Russell Library, at Maynooth University, which houses the collections of St. Patrick’s College and All Hallows Seminary, provided the ideal locus for research into how priests were recruited for British North America and how they were formed by the discipline and curriculum of these Irish seminaries. Correspondence between Canadian bishops and the Irish Seminaries could offer valuable insights into what Canadian prelates expected of the recruits, and how these newly formed priests brought their Irish training to bear on the Canadian frontier.

Based on the matriculation records of All Hallows Seminary, between 1841 and 1891, seventy young men trained for thirteen dioceses in British North America. Having examined the episcopal correspondence, however, two more dioceses in the far west of Canada (Regina in Saskatchewan, and Victoria, in British Columbia) were added to the list. The correspondence is a treasure trove of insights into the reasons All Hallows became “a favourite” among the Canadian hierarchy. Bishops frequently expressed high praise of the quality of instruction offered by the Vincentians in Dublin. Academic rigour and moral formation were qualities Canadian bishops wanted in new recruits since many bishops were preoccupied disciplining their priests who were often described as less than models of priestly virtue. As dioceses were growing, bishops needed more men, and they sought qualified graduates of All Hallows, whom they would support financially through their course of study. One bishop, Michael Power of Toronto, made a heartfelt plea for more priests in 1847, as he feared the loss of so many priests due to typhus fever, which was in epidemic proportions, among the thousands of Irish famine victims fleeing to his diocese.

Letter from Bishop Michael Power of Toronto to Rev. Bartholomew Woodlock D.D., Vice-President All Hallows College

While the correspondence is plentiful between All Hallows and Canada in the mid to-late nineteenth century, the episcopal requests become fewer by the 1880s. At this point in their development, many dioceses had sufficient numbers of home-grown Canadian priests, who were trained principally on the “Irish floor” of the Grand Séminaire in Montreal, or in the United States. The exception to this independence from Ireland is evident in the two Newfoundland dioceses of St. John’s and Harbour Grace. Newfoundland had a population of which 40% were of Irish birth or descent, many of whom had roots in southeast Ireland. The bishops of Newfoundland had the most robust correspondence with All Hallows and, in one sense, it became their “local” seminary. In the mid-nineteenth century, Newfoundland imported graduates of All Hallows, but after the 1850s bishops were sending Newfoundlanders of Irish decent to All Hallows with the intention that they be properly trained and return to Newfoundland. No other British North American dioceses managed such a relationship with All Hallows, where several Newfoundland priests continued to be trained until the 1940s. The engagement between the Church in Newfoundland and Ireland was quite unique, given the Province’s Irish heritage, its resistance to the control of Canadian bishops, and the fact that it remained politically independent of Canada until 1949.

The correspondence in this collection is rich with potential research subjects well beyond the scope of my proposed monograph. In the mid-nineteenth century there is a detailed and moving correspondence between Bishop Modeste Demers of Vancouver Island and successive Presidents of All Hallows until 1871. Located on the Pacific coast of what is now the Province of British Columbia, Demers’ diocese could not be geographically farther away from Ireland. Demers discusses his need for at least two Irish priests, as young Irishmen entered his diocese to work in mining, forestry, and the gold fields. He laments the sorry state of Christianity in the region but sees All Hallows as a means of transforming this frontier diocese. The fact that Demers’ letters take six months to reach Ireland adds further drama, if not pathos, to the desperate pleas of this frontier bishop. In fact, his missives reveal much about the state of his diocese, material descriptions that are less evident in Canadian archives. Demers’ requests do not go unrequited. By the end of his life, he welcomes at least one Irish priest, “Mr. Maloney.” The twenty-six letters in this folio would make for an interesting article for an eager post graduate student.

This is but a short glimpse into a collection that promises to confirm the thesis that Irish seminaries provided the firm foundations for an Anglophone Church outside of the Province of Quebec, where French was the dominant language.

Dr. Mark G. McGowan

Professor of History, University of Toronto

Interim Principal & Vice-President, University of St. Michael’s College

‘We have deceived the senate’: The Trial of Reverend William Jackson, 30th April 1795.

By Ruairí Nolan, Library Assistant with Engagement and Information Services.

The Russell Library carries a great deal of invaluable documentation from the late eighteenth century. This is particularly true of items concerning the 1798 Rebellion and the run up to it. One can find works by Thomas Paine (1737-1809), Edmund Burke (1730-97), Richard Musgrave (1746-1818) and many more. One name that stood out to me while doing research in the Russell was that of Rev. William Jackson (1737-95). I found summaries of proceedings for the trial in the form of pamphlets from 1795 which included transcripts but also a published book from 1845 by Thomas MacNevin (1814-48). MacNevin’s account notably takes from the summarised accounts with a bit more substance added – whether from other unknown sources or historical hagiography, is unclear.

The anniversary of the trial was yesterday and took place at the bar of the King’s Bench in Ireland. He was a man that led the life of a reverend in the Church of England, a journalist, a courtier to aristocracy and spy for the French Committee of Public Safety. In 1794 Jackson was caught and arrested on charges of high treason for passing on documents which proved the existence of a French mission to gauge public opinion in Britain and Ireland for armed revolution. The sentence for high treason was the death penalty, meaning the forfeiture of his estate to the government upon his death, something Jackson could not stomach – among other things.

Jackson was a man known for his self-dramatizing appetite for life, embedding himself in the controversial life of the Duchess of Kingston and engaging in a journalistic debate with Samuel Foote, a fight which cost him his job. What stands out the most about Jackson’s trial and MacNevin’s account of such, is Jackson’s continued flair for the dramatics right up until the end of his life. Jackson was found guilty on the morning of April 24th and his date of sentencing set for the following week.

While imprisoned, Jackson at no point showed regret or concern for his fate – he simply accepted it and understood that what he did was the right thing to do. So, eyebrows were raised when on 30th April there were reports of him vomiting from the carriage on the way to the courthouse and looking ill, sweating profusely and steam rising from his head.             

                                      

Newgate Prison, Dublin

To many it had seemed that he had begun to reconsider the consequences of his actions, but MacNevin records it in a different light: ‘He beckoned to his counsel to approach him…and uttered in a whisper, and with a smile of mournful triumph, the dying words of Pierre, ‘We have deceived the senate’’. This reference, a call back to the last words uttered by Pierre in Thomas Otway’s play Venice Preserv’d, a conspirator against the state who kills himself before the government can reach him. Otway’s production, from the Restoration Era, was particularly controversial in 1790s Britain for its overt radical political imagery – a somewhat fitting reference for Jackson to make.

As Jackson’s lawyers haggled over the formalities of proceedings, he started to become visibly more distraught. Eventually he was heard groaning aloud and clutching at his sides in pain – forcing prosecutors to call a doctor to the bench, almost immediately pronouncing Jackson dead.

As Jackson had passed before a formal sentencing was handed down to him, all his property and wealth was left to be inherited by his family, as opposed to the state. It was found that he had intentionally ingested a lethal amount of metallic poison, but how and by whom, was never concluded. The details of this trial are incredible to follow, and the pamphlets detailing the trial provide a great amount of detail and I can’t recommend visiting the Russell Library to read them more.

References:

The trial of the Rev. William Jackson, at the bar of the King’s Bench in Ireland, for high treason, on Thursday the 23rd of April, 1795 By William Sampson

A full report of all the proceedings on the trial of the Rev. William Jackson, : at the bar of His Majesty’s Court of King’s Bench, Ireland, on an indictment for high treason. Collected from the notes of William Ridgeway, William Lapp, and John Schoales, Esqrs. barristers at law

The life and trials of Archibald Hamilton Rowan, the Rev. William Jackson, the Defenders, William Orr, Peter Finnerty, and other eminent Irishmen By Thomas McNevin