In a Word . . . Fame

Irish people like it to be known that we are not overly impressed by fame


A friend and myself were at a social event recently, one of the first since coronavirus arrived on these shores. There were casual drinks afterwards for the great, the good and us. Present too were Tánaiste Leo Varadkar and his partner Matthew Barrett, surrounded by a few but studiously left alone by the many.

It was politeness, of course, but we indomitable Irish also like it to be known that we are not overly impressed by fame. This seeming indifference is why such as Bono and other members of U2 can walk around their native city generally unhindered.

Fine, there is the occasional lapse. Such as when some lost the run of themselves during the first lockdown over film star Matt Damon, then trapped in Dalkey by Covid-19.

It was the old narcissist John Milton who described fame as "that last infirmity of the noble mind". He was, of course, referring to himself; he who set about the task of justifying "the ways of God to men", no less, but whose greatest creation was Satan (in Paradise Lost).

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At that recent event my friend commented, with a certain melancholy envy: “. . . what a waste!” He nodded in the direction of our tall, dark and handsome Tánaiste and continued, “. . . he could have any woman in the country”.

I suggested that there were probably some men he could have too.

And I was reminded of that story the writer John McGahern used to tell about when he was fired from his teaching job in a Clontarf school by Archbishop of Dublin John Charles McQuaid after his book The Dark was published in 1965 and he had married a Finnish woman.

He was told by an official of the Irish National Teachers’ Organisation that “if it was just the oul book we might have been able to do something. But by going off and marrying this foreign woman in a registry office you have made yourself a hopeless case. There are hundreds and thousands of Irish women going round with their tongues out looking for a husband.”

John remarked that he had never noticed any of these women with their tongues out. The same might be said of Mná na hÉireann and our Tánaiste. Whatever the reality, the women’s tongues are decidedly not out. Not literally.

Fame, from Latin fama, for "rumour, reputation, renown".

inaword@irishtimes.com