Best of Myles
Page 29
A fine speech—but who pays attention to it? Nobody. It is not news. The herculean convulsion of innovation, discovery, creation, is incomprehensible to all save the connoisseur. Nowhere does one find sane standards of appraisal and judgment. No one criticises a sea-plane for not flapping its wings when taking off. No one sneers at automobiles for not being able to win the Grand National. No one despises traffic lights because you can’t quench them with your cap. But when I, an artist, paint something and send it down to the dealers (always paint it first—much safer) the ‘public’ come in and laugh. I am approached by infants of twenty, thirty, fifty years of age and they say to me: These pictures are no good, we have never seen pictures like them before, a child could paint them.
I do not reply to these lackeys, a glance shows that they are not properly dressed (and this latter statistic is important only because they are trying to be): their blindness is shown in the allusion to children. Who has the intelligence of a child? You? Or you?
If I paint you a still life (—remember, you are no longer the patron, I am now the one with the money and the ‘taste’—) if I do you this favour, you must understand that this canvas can be placed beside any similar ‘natural’ object, a flower, a shell, a leaf, in competition, not in imitation. A shell, in its accidents, is the phenomenal expression of a design the meaning of which is not accessible to us but which is rigid, logical, co-ordinated, formed according to a morphology that transcends our understanding of these terms. In the human scale, my painting must inevitably exhibit the same characteristics—under my own control and use of light, pigment, canvas, form, texture, colour, chroma, value, sense, line, impasto and chiaroscuro. These … events are … organised to produce not merely a symbol, a décor, but a … sort of legendary organism which is to be appreciated and can only be judged in terms of itself.
That is really all I can say.
EXAMINATIONS are in the air again. The papers once more demonstrate the curious immutability of examination marks. Nobody denies that the £ is now about half its pre-war value and that all other values have altered pari passu. Yet the examination marks are exactly the same as they were ten years ago. Take this example from the current Leaving Certificate paper in Arithmetic.
‘A person holds a Bill of Exchange for £1,450 payable in six months and hence. He gets the Bill discounted in a bank at 4% per annum and invests the proceeds in a 10% Stock at 245. What will be his half-yearly dividend? (30 marks).’
You see? Only 30 marks. Leave aside the fact that the first sentence has no meaning, forget even the indelicate reference to G.S.R. Surely it is ridiculous to offer a paltry 30 marks, at present market levels, for calculations so laborious and recondite as those implied in the question?
Another consideration arises. The whole theory of awarding marks is misconceived psychologically. Walk into a pub and take a look at one of those electric pin-tables. You can shoot six balls for a penny and your score will depend on whether you have the skill to direct your ball into certain channels more highly valued than others. But suppose you know nothing about the game and with your first ball score the absolute minimum. To your delight, you will find that you have scored 1,000. Thus encouraged, you keep on and make possibly 5,000. Even if you are aware that the total score possible is 48,000, you think you have done very creditably for a beginner. After all, 5,000 is a lot of points. You insert another penny.
Students should be encouraged in the same way. I know of no reason why the question given above should not carry 3,000 marks. And if there is a reason, does it not also apply to 30? Why not 3?
(No answer, of course.)
These examination papers in general would repay a closer study. There are mistakes in them, of course. One notes in passing that while English-speaking students may obtain mathematical tables from the Superintendent, Irish-speaking students may obtain them from ‘the waiter’. Dinneen says that the word they have for ‘waiter’ also means ‘heir’.
The English paper is still—in 1944—the same stuff your poor father had to put up with in his day. You are expected to be familiar with the ‘works’ of alleged poets like Wordsworth (who wore elastic-sided boots), Shelley, Tennyson (who called ‘lotus’ ‘lotos’ to show off the Greek), Hazlitt, Polonius and Gougane Barry. Dear me.
Also—and this is worse—you are expected to ‘like’ these essentially Saxon windbags. You are to ‘write an appreciation’ of this or that. ‘Write out your three favourite stanzas from Shelley’s Ode to a Skylark.’ Conceive the loutishness of a student who simply hasn’t got three favourite stanzas from that base, effeminate, affected nonsense. ‘Recall that portion of Belloc’s Landfall that gave you the most pleasure.’ Never heard of Belloc or his landfall; but supposing one has heard of the landfall and can’t stand it—what then? Failure in the exam. and a row with the da?
In one question the examiner writes: ‘By examining his lines on France, or those on Italy, show that these words help us fittingly to understand the poem.’ What he really means is ‘help us to fittingly understand the poem.’ Why then does he not say so?
In a day or two I hope to present my own ideas of what an examination paper should be.
* * *
*See WAAMA.
*But all this may be deliberate remember.
†I just can’t help this sort of thing—considerable sums were spent on my education. Clongowes, Oxford, Sorbonne, Leipzig, Harvard and so on. Fáinne at the age of four.
Irish and Related Matters
1 n-Éirinn 1 n-Allód.
Loc: Caisleán Átha Cliath.
Am: An t-am go raibh Gaoidhil i n-Éirinn beo.
Pearsain: EAMON A’CHNUIC, SHEAN O DUIBHIR A’ GHLEANNA, FEAR NA MNA
Ruaidhe, Sheán Buidhe, agus lucht Coimhdeachta an duine—uasail iar ráidhte
Sheán Buidhe: lú, Éadhbard Hill fbhait acsplainéisin cean iú gibh for thabhaing des seidisius dochúmaints in iúr poisiéisiun?
Eamonn a’ Chnuic: Nil ann acht athchuinge go dtabharfí dúinn cead aighnis.
Sheán O Duibhir: agus radharc ar an gcoróin.
Sheán Buidhe: Fbhait ár iúr méin traighing thú sae, Sairdint?
Sairdint Tharbhaigh: Aigh tink dae ár tócuing abamht a bhuman cóld Agnes, a biútiful accomplas eigh supós.
Sheán Buidhe: Méic amht a bharant for thur airéist. Namh deintilmein—Sheán Ó Duibhir: níor dhubairt mé fhaic i dtaobh Agnes.
Sheán Buidhe: Tabh iú famhnd ánaigh mór seidisius dochúmaints bitheighnd deir Teairlí.
Poiléismeán Bairlí: Bucats obh dem Sur.
Poileismeán Deonson: ond thiar ár mór sur.
Éamhon a’ Chnuic: bhéarfainn mo lámh dheas acht fáill a’ fhagháil an fear gránna buídhe seo do réabadh mar réabfainn sean-bhróg.
Fear na mná ruaidhe: Bheil dá mbeadh sean-bhróg agam-sa geallaim duit nach í réabadh dhéanfainn. Chaithfinn ar mo chois í agus bheinn lánbhuídheach.
Shean O Duibhir: Namh deintilmein díos docúmaints ár bhéarigh sióruigheas, iú hav nó reispeict for ló and óirdiur—
Fear na mná Ruaidhe: God séabh dé Cbhín.
Sheán O Duíbhir: iu sbheign;
Sheán Buidhe: Aigheam glad tú saoí dat bhun obh iú ios loigheal.
Reilís thim and loch de odars up, só dat dé mé leirn tú bí gúid and loigheal suibdeicts obh thur mós gréisius maidistigh. Díos tú ár a disgréis tú thur aighrís suibdeicts.
Aigh nó a mean thú ios só léasaigh dat thí slíps in this clós, bhears a bíord, and dos not smóc bíocós obh de trobal obh straigeing a meaits. It is só long sins thi did an anasth dea’s bhorc dat thí thincs ‘manuil leabear’ is de neim obh a Portuguis arditeitear.
[Lamhd láftar]
TALES FROM CORKADORKY
Sa tsean-aimsir bhí fear ’na chonuí insa tír seo a dtoirfí Síomus air. Cha robh áit mhaith ige agus is air éigin abhí se abulta e hín a chothú. Siocair fíor-bheagan bídh bheith ige, bhí se i dtólamh corthaí agus cha robh se abulta a chuid grai
the a gheanamh.
Bhí se ag goil air gcúl sa chíos agus bhí dóigh bhocht air uilig.
Ach an t-acras an rud ba mheasa abhí ag goilstin air.
‘Mura bhfuighe me hoult ar ghíota bread go luath,’ adubhairt sé leis hín lá, ‘creidim go bhfuighe me bás’. Cé bhéadh ag goil a’bhealaigh a’ lá sin acht a’diabhal. Chualaidh an lad dubh goidé bhí ráidhte ag Síomus agus rinn se delay beag ar a bhealach “Goidé seo tá cearr leat a Shíomuis?” arsa diabhal, adeirse. ‘Tá acras air mo belly’ arsa Síomus ‘agus chan f huair me hoult air giota bread le fada an day’ air seisean, adeirse.
‘O bhal’, arsa diabhal, adeirse, ‘gluais liomsa go dtí a leithid seo d’áit agus gheobha me feed mór duid’.
‘Creidim go bhfuil a’ ceart agad’, arsa Siomus, adeirse, agus d’imigh siad frid a’ tír, miles agus miles soir agus go leor miles eile siar. Fuaidh siad leofa go dtí gur reach síad a leithid seo d’áit. Bhí cró beag ionn agus dubhairt a’ díabhal le Síomus gur honuí se sa chró leis hín.
‘Tar isteach, a Shíomuis’, arsa diabhal, adeirse.
‘Creidim go rachaidh’, arsa Síomus.
Fuaidh an dís isteach agus leag a’ diabhal feed mór amach air a tábla.
‘Anois a Shíomuis’, adeirse, ‘tá an oiread nourishment sa feed seo,’ air seisean, ‘nach mbeidh feed a dhíth ort go bráth má chaitheann tú é. Bhéara mé duid é air a leithid seo de luach.’
‘Creidim go bhfuil a’ ceart agad,’ arsa Síomus.
Shuidh Síomus síos agus chaith se a’ feed. N’áir abhi a’ feed caithte fuair se bás nó bhi nimh curtha ionn ag a’ diabhail, Cha robh feed eile a dhith air Síomus go bráth agus thug a’ diabhal leis go h-Ifreann é. Char chúalaidh mé goidé mar bhí sé ag teanamh ó shoin.
A Péid obh éinsint Thistirí.
O chlé go deis: Séairdint Deoinstin, Sheán O Duíbhir a’ Ghleanna, Eamon a’ Chnuic, an Spailpín Fánach agus Tadhg a’ dá Thaobh.
An obair seo atá breachta sa pictúir, tháinig sí i gcúrsa ins an am go raibh Goidhil in Éirinn beagnach marbh.
Fuarthas scéala go raibh Sur Sheán Buídhe le cuaird do tabhairt ar chríochaibh Fodhla agus le cur faoí i gcaisleán Átha Clíath.
Bhí fhios ag na Gaoidhil gurbé an gnás imeasc daoine úaisle a gcuid bagaiste do chur lá nó mar sin rómpa le giolla i dtreo is go mbeadh gach nidh ar foghnamh fa na gcoinne ar shriochtan dóibh a gceann scríbe.
Lá fuarthas scéala go raibh an bagáiste tagaithe agus bhris an dream beag thuas isteach sa Chaisleán an oidhche sin. Fuaireadar Séardint Deoinstin i gcúl-tseomra ann agus na málaí ina chúram. Chuireadar in-iúl dó go raibh sé i bpeiriceal a scriosta acht ‘bhun píp’ do leigint as.
Annsin d’ionnsuigheadar na málaí. Cuaidh Sheán ag cuartú agus ag tóraíocht ar a dhícheall.
‘Ní fheicim í’, ar sé fá dheireadh. ‘Nil sí ann.’
‘Bí cinnte, bí cinnte,’ arsa Eamon a’ Chnuic go deifreach.
‘Doirt amach an t-iomlán’.
‘Níl sí ann,’ adeirim.
‘Bféidir go gcaitheann sé i gcómhnuidhe í in ionad hata,’ arsan Spailpín, ‘agus go mbeidh sí leis ar a cheann i mbárach.’
‘Maighgod,’ ars Sheán Ó Duibhir go scáthmhar, ‘ná h-abair liom nach mbeidh radharc ar an gcoróin againn anocht taréis ár ndicheall, taréis a bhfuil déanta againn de chreich agus de bhriseadh tighe.’
‘Cluinim duine éigin ag teacht.’ arsan Spailpin. ‘Iú bhil pae for dios, iú reibeal sbhaighn,’ arsa Séirdint Deoínstin.
‘Iú siut iúr durtaigh trap,’ arsa Tadhg a’ dá Taobh. Annsin ós íseal leis féin:
‘Geobhaidh mé pighinn maith i mbárach nuair dhórtim na pónairí seo i gcluais Sur Sheáin. Dis ios a béaraigh profitibil géam seiling dé peas’.
‘Leits go,’ arsa Shean Ó Duibhir. ‘Nil coróin na fiú leath-choróin ins na málaí seo.’
Seirdint Deoinstin: Durtaigh disloigheal Reibeal aighris dogs.
(Ecseunt).
POEM in five spenderian stanzas. By Myles na gCopaleen, M.R.I.A. Limited edition of 90,000 copies (of which this is Number 64,284) printed on hand-scuffed antique barley-grained vellum. Each copy signed by author and artist. Entered as second class matter at the Post Office of St Louis. As read and recited by prominent Verse Speakers. ‘Here we have something that is alert, sensitive, taut.’—The Bell.
My song is concernin’
Three sons of great learnin’
Binchy and Bergin and Best,
They worked out that riddle
Old Irish and Middle,
Binchy and Bergin and Best,
They studied far higher
Than ould Kuno Meyer
And fanned up the glimmer
Bequeathéd by Zimmer,
Binchy and Bergin and Best.
They rose in their night-shift
To write for the Zeitschrift,
Binchy and Bergin and Best,
They proved they were bosses
At wrastling with glosses,
Binchy and Bergin and Best,
They made good recensions
Of ancient declensions,
And careful redactions
To their three satisfactions,
Binchy and Bergin and Best.
They went for a dander
With Charlie Marstrander
Binchy and Bergin and Best,
They added their voices
(Though younger) to Zeuss’s,
Binchy and Bergin and Best.
Stout chase the three gave
Through the Táin for Queen Maeve
And played ‘Find the Lady’
With Standish O’Grady,
Binchy and Bergin and Best.
They sang in the choir
Of the Institute (Higher)
Binchy and Bergin and Best,
And when they saw fit
The former two quit,
Binchy and Bergin and Best
But the third will remain
To try to regain
At whatever cost
Our paradigms lost,
Binchy and Bergin and Best.
So, forte con brio
Three cheers for the trio,
Binchy and Bergin and Best,
These friends of Pokorni
Let’s toast in Grand Marnier,
Binchy and Bergin and Best—
These justly high-rated,
Advanced, educated,
And far from facetious
Three sons of Melesius,
Binchy and Bergin and Best.
Reproduction in whole or part forbidden. All rights reserved.
Not to be exported to Great Britain or Northern Ireland without a licence.
Any person found taking sand from the foreshore will be taken a poor view of.
Páipear beag dána iseadh ‘AN GLÓR’ Ní choshnuigheann sé acht pighin ruadh agus bíonn sé ar fáil dhá uair sa mhí. Cuir an dhá phighin chaitheann tú air sa mhi i gcompráid leis an scilling glan airgid agus an raol trom luaidhe a iarrtar uait ar ‘THE BELL’ agus ní fheadar an mbeidh tú sásta.
Ní fheadar nach bhfuighidh tú níos mó adhbhar léightheoireachta (atá inléighte) sa ‘GLÓR’ ar do dhá phinghin. Ní bhionn an stuif is fearr i gcómhnuí sa chulaith éadaigh atá daor mar adeir Muireadh Ó Buirtín.
I n-eagrán déannach don ‘Glór’ chuir mé suim agus sonnadh i bpíosa dár teideal ‘ERSATZ IRISH LITERATURE’.
Sean-chnámh atá á chognadh ag an údar ann. Ní aontuigheann sé gur ceaduithe ‘IRISH LITERATURE’ do thabhairt ar aon saothar nach bhfuil i nGaedhilg.
Ní ‘IRISH LITERATURE’ a bhfuil scríobhtha ag James Joyce adeir-sé, acht tá an teideal sin ion-luaidhte aige i dtaobh ‘SÉADHNA’ leis an Athair Ó Laoghaire. Ní bhainfidh an té a léigh an dá leabhar tathneamh as an ráiteas sin. Gan bacadh leis an focal ‘IRISH’, is litríocht den chéad aicme ‘ULYSSES’ agus ní litriocht ar chor ar bith, olc nó maith, aon líne a scríobh an t-Athair Peadar. Is féidir lea
t (má tá an léigheann agat rud nach bhfuil) ‘ULYSSES’ a léigheamh i Seapanais acht ní féidir ‘SÉADHNA’ a léigheamh fiú i mBéarla.
Gan amhras bhí tábhacht ag baint le ‘SÉADHNA’ lá den tsaol ar an ghaedhilg atá ann agus bhi glaodhach mór ar an leabhar ag macaibh léighinn. Acht ní chun sochair do macaoimh ná maighdeana a ceaptar fíor-litríocht. Is bocht an dríodar ‘SÉADHNA’ má mheastar mar litríocht é; mar an gcéadna do beagnach gach leabhar eile a luadhann an scríobhnóir seo sa ‘GHLÓR’. Ní thuilleann siad an t-ainm litríocht. Tá a lán aca ‘ar an gcúrsa’, dí-mholadh nach féidir a sharú.
RUD EILE
Acht i litríocht, cuir i gcás ‘AN t-OILEÁNACH’, níl aon leabhar (againn-ne nó ag aon treibh eile) i mBéarla ata ion-churtha leis.
Agus ní an ‘Chainnt na ndaoine’ nó na ‘cora deasa cainnte’ atá ann a bhronnann uaisleacht litríochta air. Níl aon bhaint ag liteardhachas an leabhair leis an nGaédhilg. Tá an fíor-stuif udarásach daonna ann, tá sé caladhanta, bogan se an léightheóir chun cumhtha nó áthais do réir mar is rogha leis an údar. Ní h-amhlaidh, faroar le ‘SÉADHNA’. Nó le ‘NIAMH’.
Más náir dúinn ‘ULYSSES’ go bhfôiridh Dia orainn. Léirigheann an leabhar san Baile Áth Cliath agus a Mhuintir go h-iomlán agus go h-iongantach agus láthair an t-Saoil mhóir. Minigheann sé eagna, meon agus dearcadh na ndaoine, ath-chruithuigheann sé a saol, a ngrádh, a ndrúis agus fiú a smaointeacha mar bhíodar aca triocha bliain ó shion. Ní raibh príomh-cathair na h-Éireann Gaelach ó togadh í. Ní fhéadfaí ‘ULYSSES’ a scríobhadh i nGaedhilg ná aon líne de.