D-DAY

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The REVOLUTION PAPERS is a novel way of covering the revolutionary period 1916 to 1923. Each weekly issue consists of a cover page (4 sides in colour) which gives some background to the events covered in the actual newspaper reproductions contained in that issue.

The original idea was limited to the revolutionary period but it proved so popular that it was extended to cover the period up to the declaration of the Irish Republic and the coming into force of the Republic of Ireland Act (1948) on 18 April 1949.. And we're nearly there.

My initial interest was in their treatment of the cartoons of Gordon Brewster, but over time this extended beyond the cartoons to the subject matter itself.

One of the recent issues dealt with D-Day. Now, it's not so much that I have a passionate interest in D-Day itself, but it was my birth month and I thought to see just what was going on in the wider world that I popped into. There is no substitute for the intimate feeling you get reading contemporary newspaper accounts of past events.

I'm not going to bore you with D-Day stories and tales of the subsequent advance but I thought I'd just mention a few of the little things that caught my eye in the various newspapers supplied with the D-Day issue.

Evening Herald, front page, 6 June 1944

Apart from the main thrust of the D-Day advance on the beaches of Normandy, there was the little matter of the Channel Islands, the only part of the "British Isles" occupied by the Nazis during the war.

The islands had been abandoned by the British Government at the outbreak of the war and in 1940 when the Nazis arrived they turned them into one huge fortress.

The islands' occupation was a major PR coup for the Nazis and they were sure the British would be back. So they constructed massive fortifications using forced labour, mainly Russian and other POWs, who they worked to death, literally.

The liberation of the islands is celebrated to this day, some years more controversially than others. But it didn't happen on D-Day. The islands had to wait almost another year to see British troops on their soil on 9 May 1945.

Evening Herald, page 2, 6 June 1944

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, cousin Peggy's prestigious school of dancing had closed, following her death in 1939, and the action had moved from Adelaide Road to Capel Street.

While allied troops fought a bloody advance, neutral Ireland danced on into the night.

Evening Herald, page 3, 6 June 1944

Or maybe drank the odd non-bona-fide pint or two.

Irish Press, page 2, 8 June 1944

Back in them days we still had a tuiseal tabharthach and the cló gaelach (old version). There weren't too many of these type-fonts in the city of Dublin, but they were the real thing as any fíor-ghaeilgeoir will tell you.

The fiftieth anniversary of Conradh na Gaeilge saw the establishment of Comhdháil Náisiúnta na Gaeilge, which was to become the Irish language umbrella organisation for many years but which has now been wound up.

The above extract also refers to the difficulty of getting people to participate in the ordinary, as opposed to high profile special, activities of the Conradh.

Irish Times, front page, 13 June 1944

It just never goes away. The victors are still at it, obliterating all trace of the vanquished. I hadn't been aware of this one, but I can report that the statue of Thomas Davis in the rotunda of City Hall is a fine piece of work and has settled in nicely with its companions.

Irish Independent, front page, 28 June 1944

And there I was, in 40 Upper Fitzwilliam Street, waiting to pop out, in the footsteps, so to speak, of the matricide Edward Preston Ball, when Cian Ó hÉigeartaigh beat me to it by a day or two out in Otharlainn Laighean, wherever that was.

Sáirséal agus Dill

Seán Sáirséal Ó hÉigeartaigh & Brighid Uí Éagartaigh
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I have just listened to a radio programme which brought me straight back to my schooldays. Cian Ó hÉigeartaigh and his sister Aoileann have just published a large tome on the history of their parents' publishing company Sáirséal agus Dill. Seán founded the company in 1947 and his wife kept it going for a further 14 years after his premature death in 1967.

Máirtín Ó Cadhain, speaking at Seán's funeral, credited Seán with the salvation of writing in Irish.

I remember this publishing house very well. I had some of their books in school.

Stair na hEorpa nearly gave me a nervous breakdown. It came into the classroom at a critical point. We were changing over from the old Irish script (with the séimhiús) to the new Roman script (which substituted a "h" for the séimhiú). This was a severe culture shock and the text suddenly looked like gobbledegook (or Welsh!). We eventually got used to it and here we are today.

I also had not only Albert Folens's French course book, Nuachúrsa Fraincise, but had Albert himself teaching me with it. There was an element of fiction in this book as far as Albert's class was concerned. We were learning French through Irish, hence the need for this particular text book. But Albert didn't have hardly any Irish so we were effectively taught through the direct method.

And then there was poor Julius Caesar. Never made it to Ireland but his Gallic Wars were now published with Irish language footnotes. What next? Mind you, this particular book was not quite up to the rigours of our Latin class and had started to come apart by the end of the year.

Sáirséal agus Dill also published Bás nó Beatha, a translation into Irish by Máirtín Ó Cadhain of Saunders Lewis's rallying call to supporters of the Welsh language in 1961/2. Lewis's call, Tynged yr Iaith (The Fate of the Language), was originally a radio broadcast and then a pamphlet which became highly influential in the subsequent development of the fortunes of the Welsh language.

Update 12/1/2017
Following the death of TK Whitaker on Monday (9/1/2017) this letter appeared in today's Irish Times.

A chara, – When my father Seán Ó hÉigeartaigh died unexpectedly in 1967, he was a principal officer in the Department of Finance. Soon after the funeral, the secretary of the department, TK Whitaker, phoned my mother, Bríghid Uí Éigeartaigh.

After expressing his condolences, he asked what would become now of the Irish-language publishing house Sáirséal agus Dill, run by my father and mother. Bríghid said it would have to close immediately, since it could not continue without my father’s salary.

Whitaker then asked Bríghid if she would wish to continue the business, if adequate financial arrangements could be made. He thought special arrangements might be possible, and was willing to do what he could to help. After thinking for a few days, she told him she would be glad to continue, provided reliable financial assistance could be provided quickly. Negotiations followed, with unaccustomed speed, and Sáirséal agus Dill continued in business for a further 15 years.

In the scale of Ken Whitaker’s achievements, this is a small matter. Nonetheless, I would welcome the opportunity to place this small stone on his cairn. – Is mise,

CIAN Ó hÉIGEARTAIGH

Dublin 14.