An Irishwoman's Diary

Neither an archaeologist, nor a historian, nor a geographer, Tim Robinson has earned a position of unusual respect in Ireland…

Neither an archaeologist, nor a historian, nor a geographer, Tim Robinson has earned a position of unusual respect in Ireland. His explorations into the culture, folklore and physical world of the Burren, as well as that of Connemara and Aran have attracted a response of open gratitude from many Irish people who have rediscovered these areas through his work. Speaking at this year's Burren Spring Conference at the Burren College of Art in Ballyvaughan, Co Clare, Robinson, who has now revised his 1977 Burren map, announced his farewell to map making. Later during the conference, archaeologist Dr Paul Gosling spoke of the earlier generations of map-makers who had plotted and interpreted the changing face of Ireland, devising maps for strategic and military use. Old attitudes linger and he mentioned the on-going suspicion many Irish people still harbour towards the Ordnance Survey, because of the significance that mapping initially meant for land and, most specially, its ownership. "Even now, anyone walking around a piece of land with a map in their hands, always arouses attention." It seems the only non-threatening maps are those tentatively held by obviously lost tourists. Any person holding one with a sense of purpose may be dangerous, and could possibly be a modern day conquistadore - a developer.

Rescue archaeology

For Robinson, however, mapping has never been about conquest. Instead, it has been an almost Olympian task, that of restoring native place names. He has viewed this as a form of "rescue archaeology." Whereas his clipped, precise rather formal delivery verges on the other worldly and he does have the demeanour of a medieval monk, his narratives are surprisingly practical. Throughout his labours mapping the Burren, he was often hungry and food has quite an important place in his memories of days spent traversing this lunar landscape, Ireland's stony place. Seldom does he romanticise. There are many moments of wonder, such as the discovery of a plant or a bird; the discovery of a chaotic fragment of folklore or a missing word, but equally, there were interludes of black exasperation. His maps, he says, "accomplish the things that maps are supposed to do, imparting the knowledge of where things are, how to get to them and back again." Many of the maps Dr Gosling referred to are exotic things of beauty, as well as being sources of information and symbols of territorial shifts of power. Robinson's valuable maps are practical, detailed, yet spare. Most of all, though, they are social history at its most lived. For him his maps are an expression of the experience of walking through spaces "and my maps are the lasting traces of mobile reveries." They are, he said, "dreamed in footprints. Meanwhile out on those limestone pavements Winter is slowly yielding to Spring. An atmospheric mist persists. Light is returning and there is comfort is knowing, like the birds, the wildflowers will soon reappear. The absent flora means there are fewer distractions and the visitor is free to focus on the archaeological heritage.

Dr Peter Harbison takes the stage. His contribution to Irish archaeology is immense; from the scholarship of his magnificent three volume study of Ireland's High Crosses, to his indispensable Guide to the National and Historic Monuments of Ireland. He recently wrote the text to accompany Beranger's Antique Buildings of Ireland, a volume of the National Library's collection of watercolours by the 18th Dutch-born Huguenot artist, whose work not only evokes images of the Ireland of his time, but also commemorates many historical monuments now long-lost. Ironically, although Harbison has never held a university post, he is widely regarded as one of the most active, productive, persuasive and engaged of Irish archaeologists. Renowned for his enthusiasm, he grasped his green umbrella and led his class on a tour of some of the major church sites of the Burren.

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Churches of the Burren

There are more than 80 stone churches in the Burren, and they have been well-chronicled by Averil Swinfen in her valuable study Forgotten Stones (1992). Many are ruined and, as Harbison points out, most of those still standing were re-built at some time or other. Several times throughout the weekend he stressed the archaeological and artistic debt Ireland owes to the monastic system. Referring to the 12th century crosses at Kilfenora Cathedral, he suggested of high crosses in general, that they had been used "to service the pilgrimage industry." During that time at least seven limestone high crosses were erected in Kilfenora. One was removed to Killaloe in 1821. Of the remaining six, only two are still complete.

While a typical Saturday afternoon's business continued in the streets of Kilfenora, Dr Harbison, his wild white hair contrasting with his bright Christmas-red sweater, urged his followers across the mud to a field just west of the cathedral. About 100 yards from the church stands the tall, thin West Cross which bears on its east face an image of the crucified Christ. Interlace and geometric ornament decorate its west face. Back at the Cathedral itself, Harbison's listeners stand as one, pilgrim-like, as he explains the Doorty Cross. On its east face is the figure of a bishop or abbot - possibly that of St Fachtnan, the founder of the church. Beneath the bishop stand two figures engaged in the act of plunging their croziers into a winged beast.

Dysert O'Dea

The light is fading and the group set off for Dysert O'Dea, the site of an early Christian monastery founded by St Tola. There is much evidence of rebuilding here. Harbison points to the South facing wall's distinctive Romanesque arch with its wonderful array of carved animal heads and masklike human faces and mentions some of them were probably gathered elsewhere and re-positioned here. It doesn't diminish the beauty of the arch.

As are so many Irish monastic sites, the Dysert church and its enigmatic neighbouring High Cross are situated in a beautiful place. Of Dysert's jagged, unevenly broken round tower, which stands far short of its original height, he recounts the legend which claims the tower was flung back into its current position by a bad tempered witch who was foiled in her efforts to steal it.