Colm Toíbín i štala

The Rising was important for us: from our housing estate we could see Vinegar Hill where 'our side', the rebels, had made their last stand. From early childhood I knew certain things (I hesitate to say 'facts') about the Rising: how the English had muskets whereas we just had pikes, how the English poured boiling tar on the scalps of the Irish and then, when the tar had dried, peeled it off. The names of the towns and villages around us were in all the songs about 1798 -- the places where battles had been fought, or atrocities committed. But there was one place that I did not know had a connection with 1798 until I was in my twenties. It was Scullabogue. Even now, as I write the name, it has a strange resonance. In 1798 it was where 'our side' took a large number of Protestant men, women and children, put them in a barn and burned them to death.
It does not come up in the songs, and I have no memory of my father, who was a local historian, talking or writing about it. The landscape of north Wexford, where I was born, is dotted with memorials to 1798, but there is nothing, as far as I know, at Scullabogue. Its memory was erased from what a child could learn about 1798. It was a complication in our glorious past, and it was essential for our past to be glorious if our present, in what Roy Foster in his new book of essays calls 'the disillusioned tranquillity of the Free State', was to have any meaning. This was what our ancestors fought for; we had it now; it had to be good.



Izvor: Colm Tóibín, "New Ways of Killing Your Father". Review of Paddy and Mr Punch: Connections in Irish and English History b y R.F. Foster. Allen Lane, 305 pp., £22.50. London Review of Books (18 November 1993, 3, 5-6) [X].

The Wonderful Barn: snimio Janek Kloss.