Category Archives: Canada

Tadhg O’Brennan, a great candidate as the first recorded Irishman in Canada

Tadhg Cornelius Ó’Braonáin, or in English Tadhg O’Brennan, known as Tec Cornelius Aubrenan, was the first known Irish-born immigrant to Canada since we do not have any names for the fishermen who had settled earlier in Newfoundland. He arrived in what was then New France in 1661 aged 45 and married Jeanne Chartier on October 9, 1670 in Notre Dame Cathedral in Quebec City.  They had two children, Madeleine Therese Aubry, born August 8, 1671 in Vercheres and Francois Aubyn born October 31, 1677 in Lachenaie.  He died aged fifty-five 1687 and is buried Pointe-aux-Trembles. 

Born around 1616, it appears that Tadgh was from a parish near Castlecomer, County Kilkenny.  In a thoroughly researched paper published in 2002, Louis Aubry, one of his descendants, suggested that his father was Connor O’Brennan who held lands in Kilkenny.  He further speculates that ‘Diasonnay’, the phonetic record of Tadgh’s birthplace recorded on his marriage certificate, is probably a parish called Dysert near the river Dinin, a tributary of the Nore River just north of Kilkenny city.  There he finds Dysert Bridge where the two rivers called Dinan converge. 

In his Irish Names of Places, PW Joyce writes that Dysert is found commonly in Ireland, meaning hermitage.  Dinin could be daingain meaning a stronghold, not usual to find at a confluence of rivers. Thus Diasonnay can reasonably read as ‘Dysert-on-the-Dinin.” 

Dysert at the River Dinin is just south of Castlecomer, the ‘Castle at the confluence’ and indeed it is where the Dinan, Cloghogue and Brokcagh rivers meet.  Because of its strategic significance, the Anglo-Norman Lord, William Marshall, established a stronghold there around 1200.  Marshall had married the daughter of Dermot McMurrough, the Leinster king who had invited Henry II to invade Ireland thirty years earlier.  Marshall had been his right hand man and the marriage, along with claims to Leinster, was his reward for lifelong service.  Marshall’s arrival forced the O’Brennan’s into the hills around Dysert.  Aubry quotes the following from the journal of the Royal Society of Antiquarians:

“But the O’Broenains were not extirpated or even subdued; they retreated before the feudal tenants of the Earl Marshall to the hills around Castlecomer; ‘where, in the land of the Dinin,’ surrounded by bogs and woods, they retained a stormy independence until later in the reign of the First Charles, when in 1635, a jury presented that the O’Broenains held their lands ‘manu forte’ [by the strength of their hand, or force of arms].”  

However, the O’Brennan’s were unable to hold their lands in the face of the brutal onslaught of the Cromwellian invasion of Ireland in 1650.   After infamous massacres and much destruction, the conquest ended in 1652, with sporadic guerrilla war finally petering out a year later.  Lands held by Catholics were seized as spoils of war for his officers and as part of the extirpation of Catholicism by the New English, fanatical Protestant regicides. This was the foundation of Anglo-Irish Ascendancy taking shape, encompassing the New English with the surviving Old English who traced their roots back to the Norman invasion at the end of the twelfth century. Catholics were ordered to “hell or to Connaught” and under the Penal Laws made legal aliens in their own country.

It is likely that Tadhg was one of the many Irish soldiers allowed to leave for France after the Cromwellian invasion.  In France, and though likely illiterate, Tadgh would have learned French, essential to his decision to move to New France.  New France had been established by Samuel de Champlain with the intention of creating a non-sectarian and egalitarian society in contrast to France and its prolonged religious civil war that saw some two million die.

We do not know much about Tadgh’s life in Quebec.  Clearly he was a hardy fellow, a soldier of fortune by force of circumstance. He would have had stories to tell not just of own tumultuous his life but of the ancient and still vibrant Gaelic culture in which he had been born and raised.  His family lineage and his life story were in themselves a plumb line that reached deep into Ireland’s history.  A fitting character then to have the honour of being the first known Irishman in Canada.

Eamonn

Ottawa, 14 October 2022

3 Comments

Filed under Anglo-Irish, Canada, Ireland, Irish Heritage of Canada

Fifty Irish Lives in Canada: It’s Complicated and That’s Great

Fifty Irish Lives in Canada is a project I have launched profiling the lives of the Irish in Canada, with the aim of picking from those profiles fifty lives of Irish born people who made a contribution to Canada or lived lives emblematic of the Irish immigrant experience. It was inspired by the Royal Irish Academy’s publication, Irish Lives in America. I want to thank the RIA for their advice on this project. Along with a group of the leading historians of the Irish in Canada, we are working to compile some of these profiles, with a release date next March, Irish Heritage Month in Canada. Only when we have a critical mass of profiles can we consider picking the representative Fifty.

The following comprises (I) an overview essay (II) a history of Canada and the Irish in Canada in 250 words and (III) a list of some of the candidates for the Fifty Irish Lives Project.

The profiles being readied for publication next March will be less than 1000 words and the list here is a selective indication of what is to come. On the list you will find at least one governor, military officer, provincial founder, business leader, bishop, educator, rescuer, murderer, labour leader, brewer, explorer, botanist, statesman, actress, journalist, novelist, and the founder of a legal system.

What they have in common is that they were all born in Ireland. We have to start somewhere. Collating the impact and contribution of Irish Canadians in an immense task for another time.

The Irish helped make Canada what it is today. That contribution is complicated. Because it was made over three hundred years of tumultuous history. Because the Irish came from all walks of life, competing religious and political beliefs, and loyalties that converged and divided over time. It is complicated and all the richer for that.

To note, what follows are living documents that will be continuously amended and updated.

Eamonn McKee

Ottawa

13 October 2022

I: Overview, The Irish Contribution to Canada

The Irish contribution to Canada is as epic and magnificent as it has been low-key. It was low-key because the Irish had to fit into a complex society comprising a dominant Anglophone, Protestant elite with the crown as its sovereign, a Catholic Francophone Province, and an Indigenous society whose hold on their own land was quickly being usurped, with devastating consequences for them.

Most times, Canada and its settlement project was an enriching environment full of challenges and opportunities for the new arrivals. Sometimes it meant that the imperial Irish, the Anglo-Irish Ascendency that had conquered Ireland and seized its lands, carried on careers in Britain’s North American colonies. Sometimes, it meant Catholic Irish becoming Anglican or Presbyterians a Methodist. Sometimes, the Irish just dropped the O’ and the Mc.

When did it start? The Medieval epic tale, the Voyage of St Brendan, confirms that the eponymous monk explored much of the Atlantic seaboard around Ireland, Scotland and Iceland. Because they embarked without necessarily thoughts of return, it is possible that early Irish Christian monks sailed far enough west to reach Newfoundland. However, there is no evidence of it.

We know that the Vikings under Leif Erikson settled in Newfoundland at l’Anse aux Meadow. We also know that the Vikings from Norway who settled Iceland took sheep and women from Scotland and Ireland on their voyages to Iceland. Perhaps some Irish women was among Erikson’s hardy band in Newfoundland but she is lost to history.

The first significant migrations of Irish were to the cod banks of Newfoundland in the 17th century. So familiar was it to them that they gave it an Irish name, the only one outside of Ireland, Talamh an Éisc, land of the fish. Along with English and French, they settled there and elsewhere in Atlantic Canada in growing numbers throughout the 18th century. To this day, Newfoundland shares exceptionally strong kinship ties with Waterford and Wexford but also southern parts of Kilkenny, Carlow and Tipperary.

The first recorded Irishman in Canada, then known as New France, was Tadhg O’Brennan. His was an ancient Gaelic line with deep roots around Castlecomer in Co Kilkenny. They had managed for four hundred years to hold onto some of their lands against the depredations of the Norman invaders. However, the Cromwellian invasion was overwhelming and Tadhg departed for France and in 1661 for Quebec, aged 45, where he married and had a family.

In the second half of the 18th century, Anglo-Irish officers and administrators took leading roles in the founding of the Canadian colonies, applying skills and often prejudices hard won in their conquest of Ireland from the early 17th century onwards. They had family roots in Ireland’s conquests, from the Tudor wars to the Cromwellian and Williamite settlements. They had taken land by the sword from the Gaelic Irish, like the O’Brennans, and imposed an alien system of governance, religion, and law. The Anglo-Irish learned how to colonize in Ireland, often brutally and with deep sectarian convictions about Catholics and natives. Men like Guy Carlton, his brother Thomas, John Parr, Richard Bulkeley and Walter Patterson applied their skills in Canada, their political acumen honed by navigating Ireland’s complexities.

The Anglo-Irish also intermarried with the Gaelic Irish elite giving them links and insights into a culture that shared many precepts with the Indigenous of Canada. Over the generations, the Anglo-Irish regarded themselves as Irish though not native like the Gaelic and largely Catholic Irish. After all, Richard Bulkeley’s ancestor on his father’s side, Lancelot, arrived in Ireland in 1613 as Anglican Archbishop. The Anglo-Irish aristocrats took pride in their Irish Parliament, were loyal to the Crown but haggled endless with London for the betterment of Ireland’s trade and development. By the end of the 18th century they had developed their own sense of nationality.

Famously some Anglo-Irish aristocrats like Henry Grattan, Wolfe Tone, Robert Emmet and Lord Edward FitzGerald became advocates for Irish independence, became even republicans in the mold of the French Revolution. The young Lord Edward in his travels in Canada rhapsodized about the possibilities it offered as Edenic and egalitarian. Irish patriots and poets helped shaped the imaginative landscape of Canadian writers.

Such dreams ended when London decided that its imperial interests demanded the abolition of the Irish Parliament. In a narrow window of fright at the possibilities of a republican neighbour they achieved that aim in 1800. That act sent Ireland on its way to deep sectarian division, economic decline and eventually the catastrophe of famine.

In summary, when family property and prospects did not come their way at home, the Anglo-Irish looked to British North America for careers, land, money and adventure, true-blue believers in the Empire like Dominick Daly.

Protestant Irish farmers, often of Scottish origin who had settled in Ulster in the plantations of the 17th centuries, outnumbered Catholics by two-to-one up to the 1830s. By the 1820s Irish Catholics began arriving in number finding work in the rough lumber business, building canals, and farming on land of course taken from the Indigenous. Some like John Egan who found great wealth and esteem were instrumental in encouraging Irish settlement in places like the Ottawa and Gatineau valleys. From colonization at home to being part of colonel settlement in Canada. Survival can be complicated. Many Irish born helped build a country and at times make contributions that in hindsight added to the woes, even the decimation of the Indigenous.

The story of the Irish in Canada is complicated. That’s history. Let’s not uncomplicate it.

The Catholic Irish were a minority in a predominantly Protestant Canada and doubly so in Quebec as a minority amidst the dominant French Catholics. With leadership from their own priests, bishops, journalists and politicians, the Catholic Irish organized mutual support, established schools, built magnificent churches as statements of pride, and mobilized politically.

For women, immigration offered at least some release from the restrictions at home. By the mid-19th century, more women were crossing the Atlantic than men. However, it had added perils. In a patriarchal society women were not expected to be educated, were expected to marry and where upwards of twenty per cent were expected to fall into prostitution. The acceptance of this fate infuriated writers like Anna Murphy. Women writers like Mary Anne Sadlier through fiction addressed key issues in their lives.

In this kind of society, putting food on the table when a husband died left few and often dreadful choices. Prison and the insane asylum were often the fate of rebellious or the unfortunate. Gracie Marks’ hard life saw her at the age of fifteen convicted of a double murder. Yet in the list here we see women like Ellie Chapman and Catherine O’Hare who fought their way to a certain kind of freedom. Women like Belinda Maloney, Ellen Dease and Ellen Dinon, in religious orders, founded schools and gave the first real opportunity for proper education to generations of girls and young women.

The patriarchy wrote the history and only saw themselves there. One of the challenges of the Fifty Irish Lives in Canada will be re-writing women into the historical record.

Another key point of this project is to embrace the history not try to reshape it. The Irish were very much a part of the colonial settlement project. Two Irishmen, Palliser and Macoun, encouraged the ‘settlement’ of the Northwest. The Royal Irish Constabulary served as the model for the police force to enforce it, the NW Mounted Police, later the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Irish nationalist and supporter of women’s suffrage, Nicholas Flood Davin has earned profound moral distain for his report that established the Indian Residential Schools system.

What is so striking about the Irish in Canada is they came from all walks of life in Ireland and all the traditions that share our island. His relative James Gowan more or less single-handedly created the Canadian criminal justice system. Imperialists and nationalists. Catholics and Protestants. Orangemen and Irish rebels. Landlords and labourers. Protestant aristocrats and Catholic bishops.

Out of the Irish cauldron, many Irish reached across home-grown sectarian divides and determined that Canada would be different. A deep-dyed Orangeman like Ogle Gowan could in Canada reach across the sectarian divide in seeking Catholic political support.

Catholic Bishop like Michael Fleming imported the tactics of Daniel O’Connell to better the miserable conditions of the Irish of Newfoundland and in the process reshape the Province’s politics. Episcopal leaders like Archbishops Lynch and Connolly were mindful to council restraint and avoid sowing religious divisions in Canada. Avoiding the sectarianism sowed at home inspired John Egan just as it would Thomas D’Arcy McGee and fellow Irish journalists and politicians in their contribution to the founding of Confederated Canada. They helped create a model that inspired Irish nationalists at home until the paradigm shifting Easter Rising of 1916.

Thomas D’Arcy McGee was one of the founding fathers of Confederation, steering the debates with his knowledge of Irish, British and American politics, determined that the new Dominion would not repeat grave mistakes of governance, would become a democratic and tolerant society.

The first three Governor Generals in the premiere Dominion of the Commonwealth were Irish, more precisely Anglo-Irish. They all played a role in developing the function of that office, the representative of the British sovereign monarch in Canada.

The last Governor General of Provincial Canada and the first Governor General (GG) of the Canadian Confederation was Charles Monck, 4th Viscount Monck. Born in Templemore, County Tipperary, and educated at Trinity College Dublin, he served for a time as MP for Portsmouth. As GG to Provincial Canada from 1861 to 1867, Monck diffused tensions with the US that threatened war and strongly supported Confederation throughout its negotiation at the Quebec, Charlottetown and London Conferences, working hard to ensure consensus. When he became GG of the Confederation he travelled to Bytown and chose Rideau Hall as the GG’s official residence, purchased for $82,000 in 1868.

Lord Lisgar worked closely with PM Macdonald to ease tensions around the Red River Rebellion and smoothed relations with the US that had their roots in the American War of Independence, had flared up in the War of 1812 and had festered ever since. He travelled to Washington to meet with President Ulysses S. Grant.

Lord and Lady Dufferin were immensely popular throughout Canada. They remodelled Rideau Hall adding both the Ballroom and the Tent Room. He also built rinks for skating and curling for public use. They hosted balls, theatre, and concerts, making Rideau Hall the centre of social life in the young capital city. He created the GG’s Academic medals to reward scholarly achievement. Dufferin was keenly political and an admirer of Canada’s first Prime Minister, John A. Macdonald.

Who thinks of Ireland when they look at the Canadian flag? It was designed by an Irishman, Patrick Reid, also the key figure behind the Montreal Expo ’67, regarded as modern Canada’s coming out party.

In the contribution of the Irish to Canada we see the talents of an undivided and variated Ireland at work. As we plan our own future in Ireland, Canada and the Irish contribution here is an inspiration, complications and all. The value lies in its complications.

The research phase of our Fifty Irish Lives in Canada project is well in progress. The list below is just a rough-hewn teaser of the profiles to come. More will be revealed in time!

II: A History of Canada and the Irish in Canada in 250 Words

The establishment of Canada was shaped by beaver hunting (felt for the global hat industry; leading to exploration westward), relations with the Indigenous, climate, the fact that its river systems run east-west where in the US they run north-south, the co-existence of French and English settlers, the withdrawal of France and rule by Britain, tensions between large Protestant and Catholic populations, lumber extraction, mass European immigration, relations with the US, participation in WW I and WW II, and the fossil fuel industry. Politically and constitutionally Canada was shaped primarily by events in and awareness of developments in Britain, Ireland and the United States (notably horrified reaction to the civil war and the Fenian threat of invasion).

Most Irish immigrants arrived before the Famine, two-thirds of them were Protestant and the Orange Order became the dominant social and political association in English-speaking Canada up to the 1970s. Irish settlement patterns are deep and precede Great Famine immigration which was tragic and short-lived, with most refugees heading to the US. The Irish in Canada were determined to become good Canadian citizens, while cherishing their Irish identity. They have made an enormous and largely unregistered contribution to the development of Canada. Canada was the future that Ireland never had, due to the abolition of the Irish parliament in 1800, the failure to restore it in the subsequent 120 years, and the paradigm-shifting Easter Rising. Ireland and Canada today embrace the diversity and rights of their historical identities and of their contemporary societies.

III: Some Irish Lives in Canada

Tadhg Cornelius Ó’Braonáin, Tadhg O’Brennan, known as Tec Cornelius Aubrenan, was the first known Irish-born immigrant to Canada since we do not have any names for the fishermen who had settled earlier in Newfoundland. He arrived in what was then New France in 1661 aged 45 and married Jeanne Chartier on October 9, 1670 in Notre Dame Cathedral in Quebec City.  They had two children, Madeleine Therese Aubry, born August 8, 1671 in Vercheres and Francois Aubyn born October 31, 1677 in Lachenaie.  He died aged fifty-five 1687 and is buried Pointe-aux-Trembles. 

Born around 1616, it appears that Tadgh was from a parish near Castlecomer, County Kilkenny.  In a thoroughly researched paper published in 2002, Louis Aubry, one of his descendants, suggested that his father was Connor O’Brennan who held lands in Kilkenny.  He further speculates that ‘Diasonnay’, the phonetic record of Tadgh’s birthplace recorded on his marriage certificate, is probably a parish called Dysert near the river Dinin, a tributary of the Nore River just north of Kilkenny city.  There he finds Dysert Bridge where the two rivers called Dinan converge. 

In his Irish Names of Places, PW Joyce writes that Dysert is found commonly in Ireland, meaning hermitage.  Dinin could be daingain meaning a stronghold, not usual to find at a confluence of rivers. Thus Diasonnay can reasonably read as ‘Dysert-on-the-Dinin.” 

Dysert at the River Dinin is just south of Castlecomer, the ‘Castle at the confluence’ and indeed it is where the Dinan, Cloghogue and Brokcagh rivers meet.  Because of its strategic significance, the Anglo-Norman Lord, William Marshall, established a stronghold there around 1200.  Marshall had married the daughter of Dermot McMurrough, the Leinster king who had invited Henry II to invade Ireland thirty years earlier.  Marshall had been his right hand man and the marriage, along with claims to Leinster, was his reward for lifelong service.  Marshall’s arrival forced the O’Brennan’s into the hills around Dysert.  Aubry quotes the following from the journal of the Royal Society of Antiquarians:

“But the O’Broenains were not extirpated or even subdued; they retreated before the feudal tenants of the Earl Marshall to the hills around Castlecomer; ‘where, in the land of the Dinin,’ surrounded by bogs and woods, they retained a stormy independence until later in the reign of the First Charles, when in 1635, a jury presented that the O’Broenains held their lands ‘manu forte’ [by the strength of their hand, or force of arms].”  

However, the O’Brennan’s were unable to hold their lands in the face of the brutal onslaught of the Cromwellian invasion of Ireland in 1650.   After infamous massacres and much destruction, the conquest ended in 1652, with sporadic guerrilla war finally petering out a year later.  Lands held by Catholics were seized as spoils of war for his officers and as part of the extirpation of Catholicism by the New English, fanatical Protestant regicides. This was the foundation of Anglo-Irish Ascendancy taking shape, encompassing the New English with the surviving Old English who traced their roots back to the Norman invasion at the end of the twelfth century. Catholics were ordered to “hell or to Connaught” and under the Penal Laws made legal aliens in their own country.

It is likely that Tadhg was one of the many Irish soldiers allowed to leave for France after the Cromwellian invasion.  In France, and though likely illiterate, Tadgh would have learned French, essential to his decision to move to New France.  New France had been established by Samuel de Champlain with the intention of creating a non-sectarian and egalitarian society in contrast to France and its prolonged religious civil war that saw some two million die.

We do not know much about Tadgh’s life in Quebec.  Clearly he was a hardy fellow, a soldier of fortune by force of circumstance. He would have had stories to tell not just of own tumultuous his life but of the ancient and still vibrant Gaelic culture in which he had been born and raised.  His family lineage and his life story were in themselves a plumb line that reached deep into Ireland’s history.  A fitting character then to have the honour of being the first known Irishman in Canada.

Richard Bulkeley (b. Ireland 1717, d. Halifax 1800): As a friend and aide-camp to Edward Cornwallis, Richard was part of the 1749 expedition that established Halifax. By October he was director of public works; Provincial Secretary October 1758, clerk of the Council 1763, and Brigadier-general of the provincial militia 1780.  Worked hard with Governor John Parr, a fellow Irishman, to accommodate all the loyalists arriving in NS after the American Revolution and on agreeing the borders between Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and St John’s Island (PEI).  He helped organise the peace with the Mi’kmaq and the ceremonial burying of the hatchet in 1761 which ended 75 years of hostilities and wars. He was commended for the efficiency with which he organized the emigration of black loyalists to Sierra Leone.  Co-founder and President of the Charitable Irish Society of Halifax.  Remembered as a beloved man of integrity and ‘father of the Province.’

Guy Carleton (b. 1724 Strabane, d.1808 ): 1st Baron DORCHESTER, the man who ‘saved Quebec’ and therefore Canada, by advocating against forced Anglicization of Quebec. Army officer and colonial administrator. He twice served as Governor of the Province of Quebec, from 1768 to 1778.  Carleton served as Commander-in-Chief of British forces from 1782 to the conclusion of the American Revolutionary War.  He twice served as Governor General of British North America, during his tenure as Governor of Quebec, and again from 1785 to 1795.

Richard John Uniacke (b. 1753, Castletown, Kildare, d. 1830): career politician in Nova Scotia, long time attorney general of the Province, and one of the leaders of the Charitable Irish Society.

James FitzGibbon (b. 1780 Limerick, d. 1863): Soldier and public servant. Hero of the War of 1812, FitzGibbon is best known for his actions as a guerrilla fighter who harassed the American forces, and for being the soldier whom Laura Secord informed of the American surprise attack after the capture of Fort George in May 1813. Handsome, charming, tough and wily, FitzGibbon was one of the few soldiers who fought both conventional battles and irregular warfare during the War of 1812. Befriended Anna Murphy during her time in Canada.

Belinda Maloney (b. 1781, Galway, d. 1865): Founded the Presentation Sisters in Newfoundland; the first religious order of women in the colony and the forerunners of schools and public charity.

Michael Anthony Fleming (b. 1792, Carrick-on-Suir, d. St John’s 1850): Bishop of St. John’s Newfoundland, Fleming was inspired by Daniel O’Connell’s political leadership in Ireland, instilling pride in the poor and marginalised Catholic Irish of Newfoundland, provided education and care, politically built the Liberal Party, won Catholic Emancipation, and outwitted a series of Governors. He conceived and built the Basilica of St. John the Baptist.

James Owen McCarthy (b. 1794 often known as James Owen or Owens, d. Hamilton 1835): Tailor, businessman, allegedly a brawler, and convicted of murder rather than manslaughter, McCarthy won support for commutation to exile through successful petitions for his plight but died the day before his release in an altercation with the jailor.  McCarthy had vociferously complained about conditions in the jail. A further petition led to some reforms of jail conditions which at the time were overcrowded and poorly regulated.

Anna Murphy (b. 1794 Dublin, d. 1860): Travel writer, women’s rights advocate and adventurer, she was famous in Canada for her travelogue published in 1838 Summer Rambles and Winter Studies. She was appalled that society accepted that 20% of women would fall into prostitution and that without educational opportunities women had few career options outside of marriage. Her writing remains an important source on life in Canada at this time and the perspective of a talented and perceptive writer.

Dominick Daly (b. 1798 Galway, d. Australia 1868) Colonial administrator and politician, provincial secretary whose “conscientiousness and impartiality in his work won respect and confidence, which made his post-rebellion transition from provincial cum civil servant to provincial secretary cum politician so easy.” [DCB] He was notably sympatheic to the French of Lower Canada. Daly operated at a complex time in Canada’s history as it managed the rebellions of 1837-38 and a new colonial administrative system that converted appointed jobs into ones based on elective office. In 1854, he was appointed as the first Catholic Lt.Governor of Prince Edward Island where he inherited the land question unresolved since Patterson’s time. He announced his resignation after four years and in 1861 served in a new colonial role in Australia until his death. “Daly was an adherent of the old colonial system who tried to perpetuate that system in the Canadas long after it had been replaced by a new régime. Later, however, in Prince Edward Island and Australia, he respected the principles of responsible government, though he always gave priority to the rights of the crown and vested interests, priorities typical of a man of his aristocratic background.” [Elizabeth Gibbs, DCB].

Edward Kenny (b. 1800, Kerry, d. 1891): Businessman, politician, militia officer, and office holder. He co-founded the Union and Merchants’ banks and served as Mayor of Halifax. He was a Conservative senator from 1867 to 1876.

John Kinder Labatt (b. 1803, Laois, d. 1866): farmer and brewer, eldest of the seven children of Valentine Knightley Chetwode Labat (Labatt), whose Huguenot ancestors came from the Bordeaux region of France, and his wife Jane.  He immigrated with his English wife Eliza to Canada and purchased a 200 acre farm. Heroically, Eliza had five sons and nine daughters. He sold the farm and in 1847 founded a brewery, Labatt and Eccles in London Ontario, later buying out his partner.  His son, John, grew it into Canada’s largest brewery. Grandsons John and Hugh produced Labatt 50, the best selling beer for three decades from its launch in 1950.

Ogle Gowan  (b. 1803 Wexford, d. 1876): Orangeman from the age of 15, journalist, gentleman farmer, and politician, Ogle was vehemently anti-Catholic when in Ireland but sought political alliances with Catholics in Ontario.  Paradoxically, in many ways Gowan’s political activism and communications skills reflected the influence of Daniel O’Connell.   Godson of George Ogle, a Grand Master of the Irish Orange Order, Ogle immigrated to Canada in 1826, already well known in Orange circles in its strongholds along the St Lawrence, including Toronto, Kingston and Brockville, as well as in Perth.  It is possible Ogle’s ambition was to create a Grand Lodge and he did so without hesitation, using his considerable demotic communication skills to found the Grand Orange Lodge of British North America with himself as Grand Master. “By 1836, Gowan was already a figure of consequence in provincial politics, and he consolidated his position by founding the Brockville Statesman in 1836, his first successful venture in journalism.” (DCB) Militia leader during the 1837 rebellion, he was twice wounded at the battle of the Windmill near Prescott (worth a visit today). Contentious relations with Tories were not helped by his advocacy for responsible government.  As a parliamentarian, he was a feared debater, one of the best speakers in the Assembly.  His refusal to distance himself from his Orange connections probably stalled his promotion to office under Macdonald, though a habit of quarrels deepened the view of Reformers and Tories that he was not sufficiently respectable.  Having retired from politics, he was active in the founding of the Imperial Grand Council in Belfast in 1867, the year of Canadian Confederation, reflecting his interest in convening all of the Empire’s lodges occasionally. He wrote a multi-volume history of Orangeism, though the fourth volume remains lost.

John Egan  (b. 1811, Galway, d. 1857):  Egan arrived penniless in the Ottawa Valley aged twenty but his talents and personality, along with a judicious switch to Anglicanism, and partnership with lumber baron Ruggles Wright saw him quickly prosper.  It took immense organizational skills and leadership qualities to successfully run a lumber business: “By 1854, John Egan & Co. (J.E. & Co.) employed 3800 men in one hundred lumber camps.” [Michael McBane to whom I am indebted for this sketch.]  Many of these were Irish and he encouraged Irish settlement on the land, fifty cents on the acre, payment often deferred.  At the same time he had won the friendship the local Quebecois and was respected as a mediator and peace maker.  Egan was determined to avoid sectarianism and promoted tolerance, along with responsible government, temperance and the avoidance of the violence that often accompanied elections.  Egan entertained the elite, including hosting a dinner and ball at his home in Aylmer for Governor Lord Elgin when he visited Bytown in 1853. Elgin’s visit was partly to assess its potential as a future capital (the visit was a triumph).  Egan’s intervention was critical to the land grant at Maniwaki that created the Annisabeg reserve of Kitigan Zibi. Eventually one of the leading Lumber Barons in the Ottawa and Gatineau Valleys, by the time of his death aged 48 he had achieved success as a businessman, office holder, justice of the peace, militia officer, and politician.  His determination to create in Canada a society that had absorbed the fell lessons of divisive and neglectful government in Ireland anticipated the views and influence of Thomas D’Arcy McGee.

 Thomas Louis Connolly (b. 1814, d. 1876): served as Bishop of Saint John New Brunswick and Archbishop of Halifax; powerful advocate for Confederation, Catholic separate schools, Irish migration to Canada, and the establishment of women’s religious order. One of the few bishops to vote against papal infallibility at the first Vatican Council.

James Robert Gowan  (b. 1815, Wexford, d. 1909): Lawyer, Orange Order executive, judge, senator, and architect of Canadian criminal law, judiciary and jurisprudence.  Through prodigious output, he founded and filled legal journals and wrote most of the statutes governing Canadian criminal law.

John Joseph Lynch  (b. 1816, d. 1888): First Irish born Bishop of Toronto from 1860 to 1870 and its first Archbishop, from 1870 to 1888. Lynch nurtured the separate Catholic schools won by his predecessor Armand-Francois-Marie de Charbonnel, careful to avoid inciting Protestant hostility as the Catholic population in Toronto had expanded.  He used his influence diplomatically to encourage political leaders like John A. Macdonald to appoint Catholics to provincial office.  He was also an influential figure in Rome.  He recognised that the Irish had proven themselves responsible citizens in North America, confirming his belief they were a chosen people.  Lynch supported Home Rule for Ireland, opposed physical force and was guided in all things by his pursuit of the well-being for his Church and his people, the Irish. He oversaw an expansion in the church, under this careful if strict management style.  “During his incumbency 70 priests were ordained; two priests of the diocese, Jean-François Jamot and John Walsh, were elevated to the episcopacy; and, in addition, 40 churches, 30 presbyteries, and 7 convents were established.” [DCB] In a critical period in the formation of Canada, Lynch had proven himself an adept and successful leader.

John Palliser (Dublin 1817-1887): Landed gentleman, big game hunter, and explorer, Palliser led the famed eponymous expedition across Western Canada, also known as the British North American Exploring Expedition. This greatly encouraged Prime Minster John A. Macdonald to order the colonization of the region.

James Richardson, (b. 1819, Aughnacloy, d. Kingston 1892), tailor, businessman, and politician. James Richardson was paid in grain as an apprentice tailor and having managed to transition to traditional commercial trading he used his earnings to invest in various enterprises as Kingston was coming into its period of commercial dominance.  He founded Richardson and Sons in 1857.  His grandson, James, not only greatly expanded the company’s interests and income but single-handedly created Canada’s commercial aviation.  Richardson and Sons remains today a private company and one of Canada’s largest with interests in agriculture, food, property, energy and financial services. 

Sir Francis Leopold McClintock (b. 1819, Dundalk, d. 1907): Naval officer and Arctic explorer. Franklin search and major figure in Canadian Arctic Exploration. McClintock’s finest achievements were his contribution to the solving of the Franklin mystery and his development of a sledging method that led to the rapid exploration of many of Canada’s Arctic islands.

 Ellen (Sr Teresa) Dease (b. 1820, Naas, d. 1889): From a prominent military family and one of the founders of the Canadian branch of the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary (Loretto Sisters), with mother house in Rathfarnham. From her new Toronto HQ in 1847, she established the North American network of Loretto Schools.

Mary Anne Sadlier (b. 1820 Cootehill, Co. Cavan, d. Montreal 1903):  Sadlier published roughly twenty-three novels and numerous stories. She wrote for Irish immigrants in both the United States and Canada, encouraging them to attend mass and retain the Catholic faith. In so doing, Sadlier also addressed the related themes of anti-Catholicism, the Irish Famine, emigration, and domestic work.

Thomas D’Arcy McGee (Carlingford Co Louth 1825-1868) Irish-Canadian politician, Catholic spokesman, journalist, poet, and a Father of Canadian Confederation. Dubbed “Canada’s first nationalist” for his role in convincing Catholics and Protestants to come together for confederation. A year after Confederation, he was assassinated in Ottawa in 1868, apparently by the Fenians who were outraged by  his vehement condemnation of them.  While Patrick J. Whelan participated in the crime with an accomplice, and was convicted of murder, doubts remain that he pulled the trigger and that it was fact his accomplice who did.

Kate Horn Buckland (1826, d. 1896) A Canadian stage actress and theatre director. She was a popular actor during her active years from 1845 to 1873, and was the managing director of the Theatre Royal, Montréal from 1873 to 1880.

Grace Marks (b. 1828, d. circa 1873): Grace arrived in Canada in 1840 from Ulster aged twelve in the company of her abusive, alcoholic father, her mother having died on the crossing. Along with James McDermott, she was convicted for the 1843 murder of her employer, James Kinnear, though the gruesome circumstances involved also the murder of his lover and pregnant housekeeper. McDermott was hanged, Grace’s conviction was commuted and she was pardoned thirty years later, leaving for New York and obscurity.  Her story appeared in the autobiography Life in the Clearings Versus the Bush by Susanna Moodie (1803-1885), the 1996 novel Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood (shortlisted for the Booker Prize), and a Canadian television miniseries.

Ellen (Sr Mary Bernard) Dinan (b. 1829, Macroom, d. 1901): one of the founding sisters of the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Joseph in Toronto; created a network of schools, social services, and hospitals across Ontario, which eventually provided the foundation of a powerful network of CSJ institutions across Canada.

John Macoun (1831, Co Down, d. 1921): He was nineteen when is family emigrated to Canada and even by then his character was set in stone.  Supremely confident of his abilities and moral superiority, he was a convinced Orangeman and dedicated loyalist to the Crown and the Empire.  Outdoor life had imbued a great love of nature as well as encouraging his independent streak from his earliest years and in Canada his passion for botany developed. He became a teacher but his fieldwork, study and contacts with leading botanists soon made him an expert of the region’s flora. Between 1872 and 1881, he surveyed railway route westward and combined this with his botanical interests, convincing himself and others of the agricultural potential of the Northwest, though his widely popular book Manitoba and the great north-west. The government appointed him the region’s explorer. Along with Palliser’s explorations, Macoun was a decisive figure in Prime Minister John A. Macdonald’s decision to expand Canada westward. Macoun’s enthusiasm and his fondness for fieldwork undermined his scientific rigor. His views were misleading as he underplayed the harshness of the prairie winters. “His greatest legacy, however, was his ability as a field naturalist. A tireless field man who could recognize new forms at sight and who discovered a large number of species and subspecies, many of which were named after him, he covered an incredible range of territory – from Atlantic Canada to the Pacific coast and as far north as the Yukon – making large collections in all kinds of environments. It is not too exaggerated to say that John Macoun tried almost single-handedly to roll back the natural-history frontiers of Canada.” [DCB]

Patrick Boyle (Co Mayo 1832-1901), a printer and publisher.  His outrage over British colonialism in Ireland, combined with the ethos of sectarian bitterness in Toronto, prompted him to establish the Irish Canadian there in January 1863. Since the paper’s stockholders, printers, and editors were largely members of the Hibernian Benevolent Society of Canada, of which Boyle was secretary, he was regarded as the mouthpiece of this Irish working-class association.

William Clendinneng (1833, Cavan, d. 1907) Manufacturer, merchant, and philanthropist, based in Montreal, Clendinneng made his money leading a foundry and making cast iron products. He was director of several benevolent societies and Protestant charities, and was associated with many causes including missions, hospitals, and sailor and animal welfare.  All of this helped him become a city councilman between 1876 and 1879 and again between 1888 and 1893. He was elected provincial member for Montreal, running for the Conservatives in 1890.   As his business suffered reverses, he withdrew from his philanthropic activities.  He lived with his daughter in New York for four months before he was hit by a train and died.

Timothy Eaton (b. 1834, Antrim, d. 1907): Like many of his fellow Ulster Presbyterians, Eaton learned early the virtues of discipline, independence and hard work which stood him in good stead when, like them too, he immigrated to Canada in the footsteps of his five siblings. He and his brother James opened a small store, adding baked goods to their dry goods and groceries.  He was not the first but he was the most successful in moving his business to cash sales only. He struck on his own when he moved to Toronto where cash sales worked a treat in an urban, industrialized setting.  His target buyers were cash paid workers. Buying direct from British sources he cut out the extortionate wholesalers.  He commissioned a purpose built, three storied department store, ensuring that his customers could get everything they needed in one place.  Eventually Eaton’s department stores were operating across Canada. Eaton kept prices low and expanded his lines of merchandise, including ready to wear. He invested heavily in advertising. He opened a mail order business, offering full refunds for any unsatisfactory goods.  The regular arrival of the Eaton catalogue in towns across Canada was a major event, offering clothing, furniture and every new gadget being produced by the scientific and manufacturing revolution. While no innovator, Eaton revolutionized retail by quickly applying the techniques that met the needs of modern customers created by a modernising society.  A devout Christian, he had converted to Methodism when he was twenty-four but this did not stop Eaton’s posting No Catholics Need Apply signs. Eaton started off his life in Toronto declaring that all his assets were “a wife, five children and seven dollars.” He left an estate worth $5.25 million and established a family dynasty regarded as the Kennedy’s of Canada.

Catherine (O’Hare) Schubert (b. Rathfriland, Co. Down, 1835, d. BC 1918): Having lost their home and farm to a flood and not wishing her husband to go alone, she was the only female member of the Overlanders settlers who travelled from Fort Garry (Winnipeg) to the interior of British Columbia at Kamloops, following the Cariboo Gold Rush in 1862.  She was pregnant at the time.  With their children often strapped to their backs, she and her husband forded icy rivers and trekked narrow mountainous passes.  Her fourth child, a daughter,was born en route and named Rose in honour of the rose hips they had eaten when food ran out. In BC, she farmed, ran an inn, taught local children and was a midwife, often while her husband prospected for gold.

Charles (Joe Beef) McKiernan (Co Cavan 1835-1889): Soldier and innkeeper, he was a quartermaster in the British army during the Crimean War. In 1864, he obtained his discharge and opened in Montreal “Joe Beef’s Canteen,” an establishment soon known throughout North America.

Nicholas Flood Davin (b. 1840, Kilfinane, d. Winnipeg 1901):  In 1879 Flood Davin wrote the Report on Industrial Schools for Indians and Half-Breeds, otherwise known as The Davin Report, in which he advised the federal government to institute residential schools for Indigenous children. In 2015, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission concluded that the assimilation amounted to cultural genocide.

Daniel john O’Donoghue (b. 1844, Kilarney, d. 1907): Printer, trade-union leader, politician, editor, and civil servant. Having married Quebecois Marie-Marguerite Cloutier in Ottawa, O’Donoghue earned the support of both English and French speaking workers, helping to found Canada’s strong labour movement.

Ellen Cashman (b. 1845, Cork, d. 1925) an Irish nurse, restaurateur, businesswoman and philanthropist in Arizona, Alaska, British Columbia and Yukon. Cashman led a rescue party across mountains and through blizzards to miners at the Cassiar gold mine in British Columbia earning her the nickname “the miners’ Angel.”

Isabella Valancy Crawford  (b. 1850, Dublin, d. 1887): Author and poet. She was one of the first Canadians to make a living as a freelance writer.” Crawford is increasingly being viewed as Canada’s first major poet.” She is the author of “Malcolm’s Katie,” a poem that has achieved “a central place in the canon of nineteenth-century Canadian poetry.”

Kathleen “Kit” Coleman (Co Galway 1856, d. 1915): An Irish-Canadian newspaper columnist. Coleman was the world’s first accredited female war correspondent, covering the Spanish–American War for the Toronto Mail in 1898. Coleman also served as the first president of the Canadian Women’s Press Club, an organization of women journalists.

Sara McLagan (Co Tyrone 1855-1924): An Irish-born Canadian newspaper editor and clubwoman, co-founder and publisher of the Vancouver Daily World. She is often described as “the first female publisher of a daily newspaper in Canada” or “the first Canadian female newspaper editor.”

ENDS

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Joseph Quinn, Montréal Irish Person of the Year

Remarks by H.E. Eamonn McKee

Ambassador of Ireland to Canada

17 September 2022

(Evo Montreal 777 Boulevard Robert-Bourassa)

I want to thank Dan Doyle of the Erin Sports Association for the invitation to this event.  Indeed, I would like to thank all of the officers and members for their commitment to this organization and to the promotion of Irish heritage in Montreal. 

It is thanks to people like you that the story of the Irish in Canada is preserved, honored, and indeed built on for future generations.

Indeed, one of the great pleasures of my posting to Canada is exploring the story of the Irish here.  It is an epic story.  The Irish truly helped shaped Canada in so many ways. 

Guy Carlton, the First Baron Dorchester, was born in Strabane and earned fame as the man who saved Canada.  When the British took over, he ensured equality and rights for the Catholic French of Quebec under the Quebec Act of 1774. Otherwise, Quebec might have revolted or seceded to the United States. Coming from Ireland, he understood the divisive power of sectarianism and he helped Canada avoid those dangers at a critical moment.

Ireland’s patriots and poets helped shaped Canada’s sense of identity and imagination, people like Lord Edward FitzGerald, Thomas Moore, and Adam Kidd.

Bishop Michael Fleming reshaped Newfoundland politics in the 1830s and 1840s, and built the biggest cathedral in North America, St John’s Basilica.

Journalists and political thinkers like Thomas D’Arcy McGee shaped Canada’s constitution with confederation in 1867.

While a fifth of Irish Famine emigrants died on the way to or on arrival in Canada in 1847, four-fifths survived thanks to Canadian compassion and Irish resilience. They made new lives here and help make Quebec and Canada what it is today.

Richardson and Sons, one of the largest companies in Canada, was established in 1857 by an apprentice tailor from Aughnacloy, James Richardson. He came to Kingston and was paid in grain, forcing him to trade it, eventually to become one of the richest men in Canada and in the process establishing a family dynasty that built the Canadian economy.

Thomas Ahearn was the son of blacksmith from Ireland, living in Byward, what was then Bytown, later Ottawa. He was a businessman, inventor and really the founder of modern Ottawa, bringing electricity to the city, the first car (an electric one), a railway and spearheading the roads and parks of the Capital city.

These achievements were possible because of Irish communities and the organizations that sustained them and supported their leaders.  Some of the oldest and strongest of these are found here in Montréal.

I was not sure what to expect when I came here today, particularly after the pandemic and all the adverse effects that had on organizations.

To see such a huge turnout for this event, some seven hundred I was told, is a testament to the resilience of your organization and community here in Montreal.  For good reason, you have earned your reputation for the cohesion and deep roots of your traditions and the vitality of your Irish heritage in this great city.

There are few better representatives of the values of community, Irish heritage and public service than the honoree today, Irish Person of Joseph Quinn.

When Joseph was born in January 1942, the world was going through a tumultuous time.  Senior Nazi officials met at the Wannsee Conference to agree on the implementation of the Final Solution, deportation of Jews to Poland for extermination. 

This was at a time when the war was going badly for the Germans with defeat at the Battle of Moscow.  America had entered the war after the attack on Pearl Harbour the previous December. The first American soldiers to land in the European theatre of operations disembarked at Belfast, Northern Ireland

I have to say, Joseph, considering your birth year, you’re looking fresh as a daisy!

You share a birth month in January of 1942 with Mohamad Ali.

Yet far more significant for Verdun and the Irish community of Montreal was the birth of Joseph Quinn.  While you have lived in Verdun for over eighty years, you told me your dark secret: that you were born in Ottawa.  I am sure they have forgiven you!

Joseph has been a pillar of the Verdun community.  For 32 years, you dedicated your life to the service of your community in the Fire Department.

Your contribution to the community went way beyond your professional calling.  From community centers to food banks, from education and heritage to Christmas baskets and epilepsy campaigns, you were there organizing, supporting and fundraising.

Your priority of course was your family: your wife Heather (married in 1966), children Kevin, Kenneth and Shannon and grandchildren Patrick and Taggart Quinn.

Throughout all of this time, you were a major figure in the life of the Irish community, including the United Irish Societies of Montreal. 

Your public, volunteering, and community service has been recognized, rightly by a slew of awards.  All were thoroughly deserved.

However, I am sure that this award of Irish Person of the Year is a special one for you.  With a name like Quinn, how could it be otherwise?

I did some checking and our Honorary Consul, Michael Kenneally wrote the following to me:

Joe and his extended family have been part of the backbone of the Montréal Irish community for many years, especially that part of it associated with Point St. Charles. He was President of the United Irish Societies, which runs the parade, as was his sister Elizabeth and his son Ken, who is currently President of St. Patrick’s Society. Joe is a retired firefighter and has been and is very involved with charity work at a grassroots level – soup kitchens, etc.  He is a lovely man and a salt of the earth type of guy. I am sorry I cannot be there as I very fond of him and a great admirer of his commitment to community and the social welfare of its less well-off members.

This, Joseph, is what they are saying behind your back!

I am honored and proud to be a part of this occasion.  It is a particularly auspicious one since we can say, thanks to the pandemic, you are Person of the Year for three years running!

Being here allows me to say to you maith thú, well done Joseph, and congratulations.

Thank you.

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Ireland at 100: Colonization, Self-Determination and What the Census Tells Us

After the Easter Rising in 1916, the War of Independence, British-imposed partition and a peace treaty in 1921, Ireland gained her independence 100 years ago.

It was a long road from the time when Norman invaders seized Dublin in 1170. The Normans might have been absorbed into Irish society, were it not for the brutal second conquest by the Tudors in the 16th century. After defeat in the wars of religion in the 17th century, the Catholic population lived under the thumb of a Protestant Anglo-Irish Ascendancy.

Yet like the Normans before them, in the 18th century the Ascendancy developed an Irish identity, proudly manifest in their Parliament in Dublin — the first purpose-built bicameral one in the world. They lobbied London successfully for Irish economic interests. Dublin boomed and the population recovered from the devastation of war. The penal laws against the Catholics withered away, save for the right to vote.

The French Revolution inspired both Irish Protestant and Catholic leaders to imagine a new, democratic Ireland where religion was secondary to citizenship. This put the fear of God into Britain’s political leadership. Encouraged by the French, the Rising of 1798 in Ireland confirmed the worst. The prime minister, William Pitt, decided that the Irish Parliament had to go. It was bullied and bribed out of existence in 1800.

The economic decline in Ireland was almost immediate. The development of Dublin stalled and never recovered. Agriculture declined, but the population, burgeoning to eight million, paid handsome rents to absent landlords even as desperate poverty proliferated. When the potato crop failed between 1845 and 1851, one million died, and one million emigrated. Emigration created a great diaspora but reduced the population by half.

In Black ’47, the worst year of the Great Famine, some 200,000 famine refugees fled, with half coming to Canada — mass graves dot the St. Lawrence to this day. Almost 40,000 arrived in Toronto to a resident population half that. It is to the city’s eternal honour that its doctors and nurses looked after them, often at a cost to their own lives.

If population is a measure of society’s well-being, colonialism in Ireland was a demonstrable failure. As the population in Western Europe doubled, Ireland continued its decline. Even today, the U.K. ranks eighth in population density, Ireland 36th.

How did independent Ireland fare? Shorn of our industrial base by partition, we struggled to develop; emigration continued for most of the 20th century. However, in the 1950s Ireland decided to look for investment internationally and started on a journey that would, by the 1990s, create the economic boom of the Celtic Tiger, ending involuntary emigration.

Thanks to foreign direct investment, membership in the EU, globalization and a well-educated workforce, Ireland’s strengths in pharmaceuticals, medtech, information and communication technologies, and digital and financial services have produced a robust economy that withstood the global financial crash and the pandemic.

Our focus on innovation, infrastructure and talent ensures our future. We have taken our place among the nations of the world. But what about our population?

By 2011, Ireland had the highest rate of fertility within the EU. Ten years later, in April 2021, the Central Statistics Office of Ireland reported the country’s population had reached 5.1 million. Combined with the population of Northern Ireland of 1.89 million, this put the population on the island at nearly seven million.

Just about a million to go, then, to restore the population we had over 170 years ago. We may still have not reached the pre-Famine population of over eight million, but we have established a strong upward trend that will get us there.

The rise in Ireland’s population demonstrates our success as a nation-state over the last 100 years. Self-determination beats colonialism.

The next Irish census happens in April, delayed by the pandemic but coincidentally falling on our 100th anniversary. We can fill in the form with a sense of achievement and national pride. This is us — we survived and prospered. Here are the statistics.

This blog appeared originally as an Op Ed in the Toronto Star on 17 March 2022 under the title ‘St. Patrick’s Day: What a century of Irish independence tells us.’

Eamonn McKee

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St Brendan’s Voyages in the North Atlantic and His Medieval Best Seller


As a university student, I once spent a summer working on the Shetland Islands.  In a yard by the sea just outside Lerwick, we broke and cut reinforced concrete off pipes rejected for the pipeline that would link the North Sea oil fields to an oil refinery in Sullom Voe at the north end of the main island.  Nearby, I used to see a man building a boat.  He was a loner, with a handsome chiselled face and rangy body. When I asked an English friend about him, he said he was building it to row across the Atlantic on his own, not telling anyone. I don’t know if he made it or not.  Whether that urge was courageous or suicidal, it seemed to me nonetheless admirable.  It seems even more so now in the social media age where nothing matters if it is not shared. 

My English friend was intent on settling in Shetland as a crofter and he worked with us in our primitive endeavours smashing concrete to make the money to achieve that. His plummy accent suggested that it was far from that lifestyle that he was raised.  There’s a certain class of people that are drawn to remoteness. Few however have the universal appeal, spiritual import, or cultural impact of St Brendan and his followers as they pursued their epic quest around the North Atlantic.

We like to think that St Brendan and his monks sailed and rowed across the Atlantic by its shortest route, from Kerry to Newfoundland. That it was technically possible using the technology of the time was demonstrated by Tim Severin in 1976-77.  That it was achieved in the 6th century, alas there is no evidence.

St Brendan may not have crossed the North Atlantic to Canada but he and his crew unmistakably traversed at good part of the Ocean, certainly as far as Iceland.  That much is evident from the ancient account of his voyage, the medieval best seller, Navigatio Brendani.  Written in Hiberno-Latin around 800, it was translated many times and is regarded as “popular Irish work of the entire Middle Ages…..It took on the stature almost of a European epic.”[1]  There are some 120 manuscripts running from the tenth to the sixteenth centuries, spreading as far north as the Baltics, east to Russia and south to the Iberian Penninsula.[2] 

St Brendan himself was an historical figure, born c.484 in Co Kerry, somewhere around Tralee Bay, possibly near Fenit or Kilfenora.  Baptised by Bishop Erc, he was fostered between the ages of one and six by St Ita, famous for her virtues and her school where she taught many of the patron saints of Ireland as young boys.  True faith, pure heart and simple life were her watchwords.  Brendan would visit her throughout his life and abide by her counsel. Famed for his chastity, even as young boy of ten years, he mercilessly beat a young princess for daring to ask him to play with her.[3]

As a follower of St Finnian, Brendan became known as one of the Twelve Apostles of Ireland.  He founded monasteries where he sailed, including the Aran Islands, islands off the Scottish coast, in Wales and Brittany.  His most famous monastery was at Clonfert in east Galway.

The Brendan voyage was particularly popular with the Anglo-Normans from the twelfth-century onwards.  The Normans were very keen on commissioning histories and biographies of their illustrious relatives in what was a deliberate creation of a distinct lineage and identity regarding Norman society.  As new conquerors and arrivistes, this makes sense. It was part pride in their achievements and part promulgation of their legitimacy to hold what they had won by conquest. 

Aristocratic women from the Carolingian through to the Middle Ages were keen patrons of literature, using their wealth to further the arts in the expensive business of translation and publication. They exercised their patronage to ensure the development of culture within their societies.[4]

As Susan M. Johns notes in Noblewomen, Aristocratic and Power in the Twelfth Century Realm, “In twelfth-century England and Normandy it is significant that women had a role in the patronage of innovative forms of literature which affected the development of secular literature.  Royal women were in the vanguard of patronizing these new forms of literature.”[5] Benedictine monk and church historian, Hugh of Fluery praised his patron, Adela of Blois, for her “generosity, intelligence and literary skills.” Queen Matilda, wife of Henry I who was son of William the Conqueror, commissioned William of Malmesbury to write his famous The Deeds of the King of England.  She also commissioned a life of her mother, Margaret of Scotland and, in turn, her granddaughter Matilda of Boulogne commissioned a life of her maternal grandmother, Ida of Boulogne.

It was also Queen Matilda that commissioned the translation of the Voyage of Brendan as a poem in French around the turn of the twelfth-century.  “It is the earliest surviving example of a poem in octosyllabic form, and prefigured romance literature” notes Johns. The Brendan epic was immensely popular:

 “It is a Celtic version of the classical odyssey poem, a well-worn literary theme, and thus possibly particularly popular at the Anglo-Norman court, given the eleventh-century Norman expansion into England, Wales and Sicily as well as the recent preaching and popular response to the first Crusade.  Thus Queen Matilda patronised a poet who was not only experimental and at the vanguard of creativity with fictional forms but who could provide the court with a cosmopolitan and exciting travel story.”[6]

We thus have a fascinating conjunction of wealthy and powerful royal women at the apex of societies created by the Norman warrior elite, who sponsor culture and entertainment, finding a popular hit in the life of an ascetic Irish monk devoted to the renunciation of this world and the creation of the monastic ideal. Is it possible to understand this popular appeal reading the tale today?

In my view, I think so.  Startlingly vivid images live on after a read-through of the Navigatio Brendani. [7]  Of the tortured Judas on his rock in the ocean, swarmed by demons and his pitiful pleading. Of the island of smithies hurling fiery rocks at Brendan and his crew such that the sea boiled.  The famous dejeuner sur le balon. Of a tree festooned by birds who chant and speak, bells ringing as they beat their wings (actually it is explained that they are the temporary embodiment of angels neutral during the war with Satan, a reference that brushed with heresy). Of the gigantic pillar in the sea (an iceberg) and its inexplicable net.  Of the clashing monsters of the deep and of the air. Of the monk from whose chest a demon emerges. Of the anchorite covered in white bodily hair living on a high circular island with little more than two caves, a stream and a helpful otter to get him going with supplies of fish.

There is the authentic but en passant reference to voyaging on the sea, the sense of brine, the description of difficult landing spots, and the chores of finding supplies.  Of hoisting the sail and either rowing or surrendering to the wind and currents in faith of God’s will. Naturalistic it certainly is, but it is not realism.  Its purpose rather is the other-worldly, the divine architecture of space and time, and how its gyres turn all about the heavens and earth so that Brendan and his crew return each of their seven years on the sea to the same place in accordance to the liturgical calendar, notably his high point, Easter devotions.

Their seven years of voyages are cyclical, calling in to meet other monasteries, hermits and anchorites, descriptions redolent of real encounters.  Their grail is ostensibly finding the Promised Land of the Saints but it in truth it is an allegory about the ideal monastic life. 

Amidst these gyrations, the fixed centre is the imperturbable figure of St Brendan, the man of God, the father of his group of monks.  He is the conduit for God’s will, commanding demons, reassuring his panicked companions, presciently seeing through the illusions to the divine purpose. His quest is successful as indeed he finds through a liminal fog the paradisiac Island suffused in divine light, moving beyond our time and space.  He can return home, his pilgrimage successful, to die as pre-ordained.

It is also clear that however fantastical the images, the tale is referencing actual locations, notably the Faroe Islands, Rockall, and memorably Iceland.[8] That he reached Greenland and the Sargasso Sea is, according to one authority, Elva Johnson, merely speculative. Had the tale said that Brendan sailed west to the Promised Land of the Saints one might argue he reached Newfoundland (like Severin’s landing at Hamilton Bay) but it is clear from the text that he sailed east. 

That said, Irish monks including St Brendan did in fact extensively explore the North Atlantic and settled its islands in the search of the perfect monastic life such as famously at Iona in the Hebrides. Brendan himself, in addition to his main establishment in Clonfert (east Galway) established monasteries in the islands near Iona.  He was not alone in this as Comgall of Bangor and Colum Cille did so too.[9] Dicuil, an Irish geographer of the early ninth-century, notes that Irish monks settled Iceland around 795 and recent research suggests they settled on the Faroes.[10] 

For the Normans, then, the appeal of the Brendan voyage seems clear.  It is a familiar literary form.  It is an adventure for an adventuring society, ready to head into the unknown.  The search for the New Jerusalem implicit and at times explicit in Brendan’s quest resonates with the prize of the actual Jerusalem, seized by the Crusaders in 1099, in which Normans played a key role.  This was only a few years before Matilda commissioned the translation.  The voyage involves a group of men headed by a leader whose qualities the Normans admired in their own leaders: calm in a crisis, matter of fact in the face of daunting odds (the English stiff upper lip traces back to the Anglo-Normans), ingenious in finding solutions in the nick of time. Brendan faced into the North Atlantic just as they had themselves ventured from the Norman Dukedom to conquer England, Sicily and Antioch.  These were men who understood the risks and rewards of venturing into the unknown.  And that success depended on coherence within the group.  When Brendan has chosen his fourteen brothers, he gathered them in one oratory and told them of his ‘fixed determination’.  “How does this seem to you. What advice would you give?”  In unison, they replied: “Abbot, your will is ours.  Have we not left our parents behind?  Have we not spurned our inheritance and given our bodies into your hands?  So we are prepared to go along with you to death or life.  Only one thing we ask, the will of God.”   The audience of Norman aristocrats listening to the cadences of this part of the Brendan epic would have recognized their own ethos, the coherence and discipline that had made them the most successful knightly adventurers in history.  If the monks wielded love and the Normans swords, they were still all soldiers, a strong motif both in the Navigatio and for the monastic tradition generally.  Both believed that they were doing God’s will. Brendan’s triumph mirrored their own wishes that their violence and invasions would all turn out well in the end, would be in fact in accord with God’s plan.  Everyone likes a Hollywood ending.

The Normans would have shared too St Brendan’s insatiable curiosity. Marvelling at the wonders of nature was for monks a way of understanding God through the world he had created.  Yet for St Brendan, his curiosity is almost a torture.  When he sees the birds cover the tree so thickly that the tree can barely be seen, he was so tormented for an explanation about them that tears flowed down his cheeks in a rare humanizing vignette: ‘God, who knows the unknown and reveals all that is secret, you know the tortures of my heart, I implore your majesty to have pity and revel to me, a sinner, through your great mercy your secret that I now look upon with my eyes.’[11] 

Above all, the Brendan voyage is a Christian tale, told as fiction based on threads of real events and snippets from real places, but ultimately an allegory about the path to God.  “Brendan’s battlefield in within himself.  Heroic struggle in the Middle Ages, while cosmic in its conventional trappings, is essentially a personal quest for knowledge or enlightenment, a psychological conflict, a psychomachia.”[12]  It is a Christian tale for a society infused with zealous religious fervour.  This was so intense that it changed their social mores to adopt monogamy and primogenitor as a rule of political succession.  It generated the corpus of values that became chivalry and stirred literary imaginations to create romantic literature. It propelled all ranks of society to join in long and dangerous pilgrimages to the Holy Land and the sometimes map-cap journeys that were the crusades. 

Reading the tale of St Brendan is like watching a clockwork diorama.  The boat circulates and arrives on its liturgical schedule, scenes unfold, patterns repeat, numbers freighted with meaning like 3, 7, and 40 recur, time becomes timeless, all unfolds as it must. “Almost every episode in the Navigatio Brandani revolves around a unit of time pregnant with religious meaning, resonant with symbolic import, rich with biblical reminiscence.”[13]

The prize that Brendan sought, salvation, appears to differ markedly from the very material wealth and status that the Normans sought.  Yet in reality, the Normans were, too, prepared to invest heavily in salvation, endowing and building abbeys, churches and cathedrals.  They funded in large part the great renaissance of the early Middle Ages expressed in such soaring triumphs as Chartres Cathedral and Mont St Michel. For the warrior elite, how to resolve the contradiction of being killers and good Christians was a conundrum, the easing of which gave the Church its great political leverage.  That leverage forged a partnership between the church and kings that was fundamental to the creation of the centralised nation states emerging in Western Europe from the 11th and 12th centuries onwards.

For though St Brendan’s ultimate goal was unity with God and paradise, he reached this, at least allegorically, through a search for an earthly paradise, the Promised Island of the Saints, an actual place where no one dies, no seasons change (once thought a consequence of the Original Sin and the Fall[14]), and light shines perpetually independent of the sun and moon since paradise is beyond time.  Certainly, one had to pass a portal of fog to access it, a liminal entry point between the real and the perfect, but enter it one could.

Like El Dorado or even the Maltese Falcon, it is what dreams are made of: “Christians believed that there might be an earthly paradise, although they debated about its nature and location. For some, it was the Garden of Eden, lost in the east. For others, there was a paradise under the Caucasus Mountains in Central Asia….many more came to see it as being hidden in the ocean to the west.”[15]  This notion was but a short step from seeing St Brendan landing in North America as an early European claimant to the landmass, divinely ordained.

For all its combination of biblical and classical tropes, the Brendan voyage is very recognisably Irish with its roots in the immrama genre.  Journeys to and adventures in otherworldly places.  Islands that appear and disappear like Hy Brasil.  Fogs as liminal entry points.  Talking animals that are guides, lost souls, or tricksters.  Not surprisingly there are no deer turning into beautiful women or beautiful women disappearing into the mist but there are evouring monsters bearing names.  Places of eternal youth too, recalling like Tír na nÓg.  The hero’s return home and his death.  All echo through Brendan’s voyage. 

The other strong Irish element is the ascetic ideal of the monks.  Towards the end of the eight-century asceticism enjoyed a strong revival in Ireland, just as the Brendan voyage was being written.  Derived from Egypt and Syria, notably in the example of St Anthony, and influenced by the teachings of British saints like St Gildas and St David, the ascetic ideal appealed strongly to many in early Christian Ireland.  Asceticism became deeply inculcated in its monastic life, a movement led by the Célí Dé, or companions of God.  The culdees, as they were know, were rigorous ascetics though now they formed groups, unlike the anchorites of previous times.  “It is surely reasonable to apply the words ‘reform’ or, better, ‘religious revival’ to these developments”, writes the indispensable Kathleen Hughes in her classic The Church in Early Irish Society.[16]

One of the culdee leaders was Máel ruain, founder of Tallaght and it is probably no coincidence that the first reference to Brendan’s adventures is associated with Tallaght.  In this context, the Brendan Voyage serves to rally the troops in rejection of the laxities of the ‘old church’.  The culdees rejected meddling in the real world, such as missionary trips to Europe, and saw great dangers in exposure to women.  Voyaging in the Atlantic in search of inspiring fellow-travellers was a feasible alternative to simply staying put.  Cross-vigils (arms outstretched), vigils in water, flagellation by another monk, and long fasts from food and water, rote learning and long recitations,  were some of the rigors the culdees put themselves through. Like them, Brendan and his monks fast regularly, often only eating every second or third day.  Like them, Brendan and his monks only ease their routines for liturgical celebrations.

For all the devotions and asceticism of Irish monasteries, Ireland in the 9th century was a place of violence and turmoil.  The first Viking attack on Ireland occurred in 795 and they continued to plunder the monasteries, interrupting its Golden Age for decades.  They were out for plunder which they found in the monasteries and for slaves, which they found in the populations which had settled around the monasteries. What people they did not take as slaves, they slaughtered and then burned the monastery.  This was a new type of warfare, unfamiliar to the Gaelic Irish where heretofore warfare was a largely aristocratic activity focused on cattle-raiding.  Quite how much turmoil the Vikings sowed in Ireland is hard to judge.  Certainly it was significant since the Viking focus was on the monasteries that provided the urban hubs for Gaelic Ireland as centres of worship, learning, craft, culture and trade.[17] 

Gaelic Irish kings like Feidlimid, king of Munster, raided and burn monasteries, though less frequently than Vikings.  Paradoxically he was regarded as a leading ascetic, scriba et ancorita. Monasteries themselves fought each other, with even St Brendan’s at Clonfert engaged in pitched battles.  For protection, monasteries often were led by abbot-kings, the better to afford them protection.  Families controlled monasteries through inheritance and their integration into Gaelic society inevitably meant they were embroiled in its regnal wars.  Writes Hughes: “So the old practices went on, and while one anchorite dwelt alone in his hermit’s cell, renouncing this wretched world, another who held a kingdom, assumed abbacies, burned churches beyond his own borders, and slew their inhabitants.”[18]  Amidst all this turmoil, no wonder that the Navigatio Brendani was needed to hold up an ideal of the monastic life.

All of this would seem to point to weakness of the monastic system, a lack of centralised authority and hierarchy that the ascetic revival was by nature not equipped to mitigate or repair.  As Ó Croinín points on in his Early Medieval Ireland 400-1200, now the standard historical survey of the period, the ‘new orthodoxy’ about the Irish church at this time is that there was no organization.  This is not a view that Ó Croinín shares and he points the fact that there were no disagreements about dogma and doctrine and, moreover, the regular synods of church leaders were capable of concerted disciplinary action, such as the censuring of St Columba and exile to Iona.[19]  This debate centres on the nature of political control, whether a society or political entity can be organized without being centralized. It is central to later debates around political organisation in Ireland prior to colonization.  Colonizers justified their conquests and destruction of Indigenous societies for their lack of centralization even if the evidence of organisation is all round them.  

Ironically enough, just as Queen Matilda was commissioning a translation of the Navigatio Brandani three centuries later, the Irish church was undergoing a period of serious reform, an attempt to strengthen the diocesan structure that has failed to take root, with increased communication with Rome and the introduction of the Benedictine rule.  Ireland’s reputation in Europe as a place of moral laxity in the church was doing its reputation real damage. This was used by English Churchmen to argue for an invasion of Ireland later in the century.

“Monastic and clerical life were thus drawn into the continental pattern as never before, and liturgical customs were revived. Twelfth-century architecture and sculpture bear the imprint of these fundamental changes”, writes Hughes, citing the example of Cormac’s chapel on the Rock of Cashel, consecrated in 1134, with its continental Romanesque influences (and to my mind redolent of Jerusalem in its use of bright sandstone, not grey granite).[20]

The new orthodoxy turned a critical eye to pre-reform literature and a provoked a caustic dismissal of the Brendan Voyage as an insult to the saint. Hughes sums up the scholar’s distain: “Are we to believe that Brendan, for the sake of a rumour, irresponsibly abandoned the three thousand brethren whom God had committed to his direction; that he wandered for seven years, celebrating Easter on a whale’s back, seeking on the seas what is promised in heaven?  The whole story is condemned as silly, crazy, and hostile to the faith.”[21]

Crazy it may have seemed even in twelfth-century Ireland but the allure of the Navigatio Brandani was enduring, precisely because seeking heaven on earth might was not be crazy if you could get there without paying the normal price of admission, namely death.  Brendan’s Island was a mainstay of medieval and renaissance cartography as Johnson notes, placed variously off the coast of Africa, just north of the Canaries, or in the Atlantic.  “Between 1526 and 1721 four naval expeditions left the Canaries in search of the promised land of St Brendan.”[22]  As Anderson writes: “Columbus mentioned Brendan’s Island, the Earthly Paradise, in his diary. It remained on navigational charts into the eighteenth century.”[23]  This despite the tale’s own location of the island to the east and near Ireland.

If it is unlikely that St Brendan did reach Newfoundland, that is not to say that a monk or monks did not set out across the unknown and make landfall on the North American continent. The hardy ascetic monks of Ireland were more than able for the rigors of such a journey.  More importantly, they had the ideology to attempt such a feat, an act of zealous devotion to their beliefs.  At the outer edge of the world they would have expected to meet and challenge demons, testing their spiritual valour as soldiers of Christ.  They would have emulated Christ’s exile from heaven while on earth saving mankind.  To truly emulate Christ, one had to embrace exile. For those with an expectation of return, such a journey would have been a pilgrimage.  More universally, such a venture would been a response to innate human curiosity to look beyond the horizon, a powerful drive in our nature that humans as a species have exhibited throughout their existence.

Finding any traces of Irish monks beyond Iceland is hard to imagine but possible. Until then, we must leave the honours to the Vikings who managed the journey in 1000 AD, the first time that humans finally closed the loop by travelling completely around the world. Along the way, they had destroyed the monastic settlements in the remote islands of the north North Atlantic and ended the wanderings of the monks in search of ideal locations to live their ideal life on earth.

In global terms, the Vikings’ achievement was less impressive than at first appears.  The already established sea route from the Persian Gulf to Guangzhou in China would remain the longest until the sixteenth century, as least twice as far as Columbus. Nonetheless the Viking journey of Leif Ericson was epic, putting in place the final link in a global trade route that arguably was the starting point of globalisation:

“In 1000, Viking explorers closed the global loop.  For the first time an object or a message could have travelled across the entire world.  True, we do not know – yet!- of any item that did so.  But because the Viking voyages to Canada in the year 1000 opened up a route from Europe to the Americas, it is fact – not supposition – that a network of global pathways took shape in that year.”[24] 

That the Vikings were hunting for monastic settlements and their riches means that indeed Irish monks like St Brendan played an inadvertent part in stimulating globalization.

Eamonn McKee

Ottawa

26 March 2022


[1] Dáibhí Ó Croinín, Early Medieval Ireland 400-1200 (Routledge, 2017), 2nd Edition.  Ó’Croinín notes that there is little solid evidence to support one contending author, Israel Scottus. P. 242.

[2] John D. Anderson, The Navigatio Brandani: A Medieval Best Seller, The Classical Journal, Apr-May 1988, Vol 83 pp 315-322.  This is an excellent account and analysis.  While the earliest text is from Germany in the tenth century, there is a reference to the voyage in the Martyrology of Tallaght from around 800, as he notes.

[3] Rev. John Ryan, SJ, Irish Monasticism, Origins and Early Development, (Talbot Press, 1931), p 249.  This is a learned, charming and detailed account of its subject matter told from the perspective of unshaken belief.

[4] Similarly in the animal kingdom.  Female orcas are fertile from ten years to forty but live to eighty and scientists believe their role is to preserve and pass on culture and knowledge to the rest of the pod.  “Scientists currently believe that the presence of healthy older females, not depleted by pregnancies or distracted by nursing, has a knowledge-transmitting function: they can, in effect, serve as the group’s resident professors!”  Martha S. Nussbaum, What We Owe Our Fellow Animals, NYRB, March 10, 2022, vol. LXIX, 4, p 36.

[5] Manchester University Press, 2003, p 36.  Johns is doing fantastic work excavating the role of the woman, so often buried and ignored by contemporary chroniclers and subsequent historians alike. See also John’s Gender, Nation and Conquest in the High Middle Ages, Nest of Deheubarth (Manchester University Press, 2013) for the life of a woman hugely consequential in the history of Ireland but barely known in Ireland.

[6] Ibid, p 37.

[7] The Voyage of St Brendan, Journey to the Promised Land, translated by John J O’Meara, Dolman Texts 1 (Dolman Press).

[8] See Elva Johnson, The Voyage of St Brendan, Landscape and Paradise is Early Medieval, Brathair 19 (1), 2019.

[9] Michael Richter, Medieval Ireland, The Enduring Tradition (Gill and MacMillan, 1988), p 51.

[10] Ibid, p 40 and p 41.

[11] O’Meara, p 20.

[12] Anderson, p 317.

[13] Ibid, p 321.

[14] Johnson, p 48.

[15] Johnson, p 37.

[16] Methuen, 1966, p 174.

[17] Kathleen Huges, The Irish Church, 800-1050, NHI, I, pp 636-639.

[18] Hughes, p 193.

[19] Pp 167-168.

[20] Ibid, p 271.

[21] Ibid, p 273

[22] Johnson, p 50.

[23] Anderson, p 316.

[24] Valerie Hansen, The Year 1000, When Explorers Connected the World – and Globalisation Began (Scribner, 2020), p 23 and p 25.

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Atlantic Mythos: Of Titans, Tricksters and Irish Saints

What better place to start with the story of the Irish in Canada than the great North Atlantic Ocean that separates and unites us. Our relationship has been define by the crossings of the North Atlantic, or more accurately the north-North Atlantic. The shortest distance between Europe and Canada is between Ireland’s south western County Kerry and Newfoundland.  It is a storied place, the Atlantic. 

What’s in a name?  Quite a lot actually when it comes to the Atlantic Ocean. Though often crossed, few know off-hand the origin of its title.   The story of how the Titan Atlas gave the ocean its name takes us deep in humanity’s earliest culture, linking ancient Greece with the trickster Coyote, rabbit and raven of First Nations’ origin stories, with the heroes of Irish mythology and the saints of early Christian Ireland.

Atlantic means the sea of Atlas, a Titan from Greek mythology. The Titans were an early race of gods.  The Titan Cronus had deposed his father, the sky god Uranus, at the urging of his mother, the earth goddess Gaia. Uranus was an intolerant father, to put it mildly, and as soon as his children were born he imprisoned them in their mother’s womb.  This, naturally, annoyed Gaia.

Cronus was the last and only one of Gaia’s twelve children to take up her challenge to overthrow her despotic husband by castrating him with a diamond sickle. He had his chance when Uranus came to lie with Gaia (such a Freudian image of a sickle bearing son in the womb would give the stoutest man pause). Uranus’s severed genitals were cast in the sea. From the sea foam of semen and blood Aphrodite appeared.

Cronus ruled heaven and earth with his sister Rhea. The fallen Uranus had cursed Cronus to suffer too an overthrow by his children so Cronos took the precaution of eating them.  Rhea, with help from her mother Gaia, saved Zeus from this fate through trickery, so that Zeus could in turn overthrow Cronos. While Atlas, a grandchild of Cronus, sided with his grandfather, Atlas’s brother Prometheus joined with Zeus. Instead of condemning Atlas to the abyss of Tartarus, however, the victorious Zeus commanded Atlas to hold up the sky from the far west.  The Greek world view explains this choice.

Up to the time of Homer, the Greeks believed that the earth was a flat disc, surrounded by a circular river, Oceanus, a primordial soup from which all things came. The Mediterranean was an internal sea to the Greeks and Oceanus lay beyond the Pillars of Heracles, the straits of Gibraltar. Hades, the world of the dead, lay on the banks of Oceanus. Helios, the sun god, drove his chariot each day from beneath Oceanus in the east over the earth and descended in the west, where day met night and the sky the sea.

In all this, Oceanus was a cold and forbidding place outside the Greek world. It was a fitting location for the banishment of a Titan.  So that part of Oceanus then came to bear Atlas’s name, the sea of Atlas. Atlas’s connection with the sea was established early since his mother was an Oceanid or sea-nymph named Clymene and his father lapetus or Japetus (later appropriated as a son of Noah, Japhet).

The Titans were intimately bound up in the story of the human race, succoring them even at great cost to themselves.  Atlas’s brother, Prometheus, gifted humanity fire stolen from Mount Olympus, along with knowledge of metallurgy, architecture, mathematics, medicine, and much more.  He was also said to have given man a portion of the gifts of each animal.  In punishment, Zeus condemned Prometheus to be chained to a rock and his liver eaten every day by an eagle.  In further punishment, Zeus gave Pandora as a wife to another brother of Atlas, Epimetheus.  She had been created by the Olympians on Zeus’s instruction with all the qualities of beauty and cunning. Prometheus, who had the power of foresight, had warned Epimetheus not to accept any gift from Zeus, but he ignored the advice and accepted Pandora.  Epimetheus had a box or jar in his house which he had been told never to open.  Pandora however could not resist the temptation and opened it, just enough time to release disease on mankind but not long enough to release hope.  In his wisdom, Prometheus took foreknowledge from mankind but gifted it hope.

Since Prometheus had the gift of foresight, he knew the forthcoming punishment for helping humanity.  His affinity with humans may be explained by one legend that he was in fact their creator.  He moulded them from mud and water while Athene blow life in them with the wind. In another telling, Zeus decided to destroy humanity but Prometheus saved his son Deucalion and his wife Pyrrha by telling them to build a ship to withstand the coming flood. When the flood receded, their ship was perched on Mount Parnassus. Their son Hellen was the progenitor of all the Hellenes, hence the term Hellenistic. Another version has Zeus ordering Prometheus and Athene to recreate mankind after the flood.

That the role of the Titans in the Western creation myth has been lost to the public narrative is largely due to its appropriation by Christianity.  Like all successful religions, Christianity built on existing belief systems and world views, reshaping them to its own ends.  You can see Eve, man’s fall, the great flood, and motif of saviours crucified in the Greek stories. Focused on the Holy Land, Egypt and Rome, Christianity had no place for the Atlantic.

You can see too the resonances with origin story of the First Nations and the creation of Turtle Island.  The avatar of the trickster that is Prometheus was not original to ancient Greece. As Joseph Campbell recorded in his landmark analysis of global mythologies, The Masks of God, the trickster was common throughout the creation myths of the world.  He was an archetype of the world maker from the Palaeolithic era, a common cultural pool from which societies continued to draw even as they spread around the world and created distinct civilizations.

The trickster in North America, variously the Coyote and Crow in the prairies, the Master Hare in the woodlands of the North and East, and the Raven in British Colombia, can be both noble and malevolent.  Where Algonquin Wisakedjak causes the great flood, Coyote is the fire stealer. The Raven is a guide.  They make the world from soil scooped by a lowly but heroic creature from the ocean depths, make humans from the mud too.  These world-makers bring fire and knowledge to mankind, lift us from the caves and burrows.  Like the Titans, they suffer and gain shamanistic knowledge, earn wisdom and foresight, allowing them endure because they know what is coming, the end of times and even of the gods themselves.

In Irish mythology, Lugh is the closest approximation to Prometheus with much the same qualities; warrior, trickster, master craftsman, skilled in the arts, saviour and bringer of knowledge, full of defiance and guile.  He is the grandson of the one-eyed Fomorian god, Balor.  Like the Titans, the Fomorians were earlier primitive gods, emergent from nature, the earth and the sea.  Lugh is one of the Tuatha Dé Dannan, a new race on the rise like the Olympians.  As in Greek mythology, the Fomorians and Tuatha Dé Dannan inter-marry but ultimately it is a competition for supremacy which the Fomorians lose. 

Fosterage was characteristic of Gaelic society and Lugh was fostered to Manannán Mac Lir, the god of the sea. No surprise of course that Ireland has a rich mythology of the sea, from Hy-Brasil, the phantom island off the west coast, to Tír na nÓg, also across the sea to the west, where the Tuatha Dé Dennan live in eternal youth and feasting.  Irish tales tell of men taking mermaids in human form as wives.  The half-god, half-man hero Cú Chulainn is a close approximation to the Greek Heracles.

Over time, Atlas was seen as holding up not just the heavens but the earth from his domain in the far west (which actually does not make much sense; what is he standing on?) His name translates as ‘he who endures’ and strength and fortitude were his main attributes.  Not surprisingly, Atlas was a useful motif in architecture so that Atlantids were the male version of Caryatids. In medicine, a pain in the neck might well start in the atlas vertebra that joins the spine to the cranium.

With the expansion of knowledge in the Medieval period, Atlas was seen as a sage and the weight of knowledge his burden.  Atlas’s place between the earth and sky meant he came to be seen as father of geography and astronomy.  During the Renaissance, his burden was that of government and statecraft. That Atlas could act as a conduit between celestial forces and events on the ground meant that he was associated with astrology too.  Nostradamus accordingly used an image of Atlas on the frontispiece of his prophecies in 1568. Mercator named his collection of maps in 1578 ‘Atlas’ which then passed into common usage for collations of maps and indeed compilations of other kinds of guides.

On a clear day, the view of the Atlantic from Mount Brandon on the Dingle Peninsula is breath-taking.  There, in the sixth century, St Brendan and his fellow monks must have looked up from their boat-building to the vast sweep of ocean that they were planning to cross. It was literally a journey into the unknown.  They would certainly have been aware of the Irish tales of heroic travels to mystical islands.  They might well have been acquainted with Plato’s description of Atlantis, the utopian island lost beneath the waves. They may not have been the only ones to attempt it but we know that they returned, at least according to saga the Navigatio Sancti Brendani Abbatis, the Voyage of Saint Brendan the Abbot. Like the Titans and the Tricksters, the monks believed that on the far side of suffering, at the end of dangerous journeys, lay the spiritual knowledge they sought.  That’s a story for another day.

Eamonn

Ottawa, 17 November 2021

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Confluence, Divergence, and Convergence: the Irish Window at St Bart’s Church, Ottawa.

Remarks at the Remembrance Service

7 November 2021

Thanks to Rob and Joanne Nelson and Rev Canon David Clunie for bringing this masterpiece to my attention.  Thanks to Tim Piper, the church’s musical director, for allowing Mary and I to see it. We walked by one day and Tim very kindly let us in to see it. We had seen pictures of it but nothing prepares for its presence, illuminated by the sun. It is stunning, such a dramatic narrative, impossible to capture its beauty in reproductions.

This extraordinary masterpiece by an Irish woman artist, Wilhelmina Geddes, is a product of a confluence of influences and connections in Ireland at the opening of the twentieth century.

Governor General of Canada, the Duke of Connaught Prince Arthur, scion of the British royal family, turned to friends in Ireland to commission a commemoration of those dear to him lost in the war, many fighting for Princess Patricia’s Light Infantry, names in honour of his immensely popular daughter.  It was 1916, the bloodiest year yet in the Great War.

Ireland had earned a world reputation for stained glass thanks to Sarah Purser’s studio, An Túr Gloine, the glass tower.  Purser had recruited Wilhelmina Geddes to the studio after she’d seen her work as an art student in Belfast. Geddes herself was born in Leitrim, raised in Belfast, and worked there and in London and Dublin. Purser recommended Geddes for the commission.  Geddes was an inspired choice. The window was installed here in 1919, one of the first Great War commemorations erected in Canada.

Those years between 1916 and 1919 were ones of profound change in Ireland. Frustrated at the lack of Home Rule for the past four decades – arguably the past one hundred – and inspired by the formation of the Ulster Volunteer Force to resist Home Rule, the rebels of 1916 created a new reality, what Yeats called ‘a terrible beauty.’  By that he meant, in part, the beauty of simplicity, the ditching of complexity. A singular Irish identity was forged by the 1916 Rising. Ireland was transformed politically, the execution of the rebel leaders adding tremendous force to that process.

The Irish soldiers who fought in the British Army, at the behest of moderate nationalist leaders in Ireland, believed they were advancing the cause of Home Rule in Ireland.

This belief was widespread in Canada too among the Irish Catholic community here. In Canada, the Irish Catholics who flocked to the Canadian Expeditionary Force also fought for King and Country, believing that Ireland deserved home rule so Ireland too could become like Canada.  They believed, and they were not wrong in this, that only self-government could provide the political accommodation of diversity that was key to a stable and prosperous nation state. They came home heroes, their loses and sacrifices contributing powerfully to the evolution of modern Canadian identity. The Irish soldiers came home to a new Ireland in which their heroism and sacrifices had no place in the new narrative.

Since the 1990s, Ireland has been recovering the diversity of Irish identity, including those from the Anglo-Irish Ascendancy, those who fought in the British armed services, and those who hold to the unionist tradition and identity. Like Canada, Ireland embraces diversity and inclusiveness, sees richness in those values, and believes that they are the signposts to a better future.

This is the great narrative of the convergence in Ireland today, a process recovering the rich tapestry that is our history and is the reality of Ireland today. It has been energized by the Northern Ireland Peace Process.  Our rapprochement with the British crown was tangibly expressed by the visit of the British monarch and Queen of Canada, Elizabeth II, to Ireland in 2011 and the official visit of our President, Michael D. Higgins, to Britain in 2014.

I want to pay tribute to General John de Chastelain who is with us today. As chairman of the International Independent Commission on Decommissioning, his contribution to the Northern Ireland peace process was critical. Without the decommissioning of paramilitary weapons, a return to normality, acceptable policing and democratic politics would simply not have been possible.

This window is not simply a masterpiece of Irish art.  It is a symbol of the extraordinary journey of Ireland in the twentieth century.  More than that, it is a signpost to a future of British Irish relations in the twenty first century. Notwithstanding Brexit, we will build a new bilateral relationship with Britain. It will the work of a generation.

That this ‘Irish Window’ is here in Canada is particularly significant given the challenges and promise of what lies ahead in the next chapter in the peace process in Ireland and our relations with Britain. Canada’s story provides Ireland with an inspiration for what our futures can be in an island of Ireland finally at peace with itself and with its neighbour.

Thank you.

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Reasons to Read the Canadian Journal of Irish Studies

What a lovely volume, from its easy grip and illustrated cover, to the clarity of its structure and font. Contents, from articles to reviews, are delivered by fine minds and fine writers, under the astute eyes of its editorial team led by Editor Director Professor Jane McGaughey of the Canadian School of Irish Studies at Concordia University. Michelle Holmgren of Mount Royal University, Alberta, now takes over that role and we can look forward to her upcoming issue.  I learned a lot from this volume. If there was a theme I picked up, it was that of identity: as a complex and evolving motivating force for good and bad.  The contributors share a common fearlessness in exploring this.

The cover illustration takes its cue from the transatlantic cable that was laid in 1858 (and again more successfully in 1866) between Valentia Island in Co Kerry to Heart’s Content in Newfoundland.  Chris Morash of TCD thrillingly anatomizes its significance, contrasting the hyperbole at the time about how the revolutionary technology collapsed space and time, with the desperate poverty in the surrounding areas of both terminal stations. His is an eloquent plea for ethical remembering about the gap between progress and lives lived, about the need to temper hyperbole with more grounded perspectives. There’s a beautiful and informative visual essay to accompany it.  Check out too the website of the project, supported by the Embassy, to have the cable and its terminal stations declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site www.valentiacable.com

On the theme of identity, Jackson Tait’s article on the Canadian AOH reminds us that the Irish of Canada were proud of their nationalism, religion, contribution to building (settler) Canada and loyalty to the crown, a combination squeezed out of our national narrative at home because of the duration and intensity of the struggle for independence against an imperial centre that offered little but resistance. 

Natasha Casey deftly explores how Irishness in the United States has been stealthily used to advance white supremacy and the alt-right.  She reminds us of the dangerous and profoundly wrong notion that the Irish American experience was equivalent to the African American. 

Both Tait and Casey testify to the complexity of the Irish Diaspora.  To be sure Irish emigrants were the exiled colonized while in many instances too colonizers in the new lands in which they found themselves. Much of their success lay in their deftness in moving between divergent worlds, something of a survival skill in conquered Ireland. We have to be careful in drawing parallels with other experiences, such as the indigenous.  There are certainly resonances over the long arc of history but complexity and contentions too.

At the same time, their contributions in the volume capture too some of the excitement in Ireland’s national intellectual life as we recover this complexity of roles and identities in our own history.  As we face into debates of profound import like the prospect of Irish unity, the emergence of a diverse and tolerant post-Christian Ireland, and the challenge of forging a new bilateral relationship with Brexit Britain, this conversation is of the utmost value.  To navigate the future, we can no longer afford the simplification demanded by past national struggles and ethnic assertions.  Complexity, self-awareness, and empathy are our essential allies.

Andrew Sanders and F. Stuart Ross name-check the high-level contribution of Canadians Hoyt, de Chastelain and Cory to the Northern Ireland peace process but the focus of their work is at the activist level of support to both the IRA and loyalist paramilitaries emanating from Canada in the 1970s and 1980s. I look forward to more research on high-level support because I indirectly got Hoyt involved by writing the Irish Government’s Assessment of the New Material on Bloody Sunday (which made the case for the new inquiry*)  and directly engaged Justice Cory to investigate allegations of collusion which was a commitment under the Weston Park Agreement. Peter Cory was a wonderful person and Canadian hero, a rare combination of gentleness, determination, absolute integrity, and passion for true justice.  I was honoured to know him.

Joanna Bourke looks at another aspect of identity, namely gender and the history of sexual violence in Ireland from the 1830s to the 1890s.  This is a much-neglected aspect of our history only now being being seriously examined, with a few rare exceptions. Bourke explores her themes through specific cases that from the victim’s point of view must have had a nightmarish quality from the uproarious laughter in court, the use of euphemisms, and the allegation that rape accusations were merely means to leverage marriage. Washed through all of this is the influence of Ireland’s colonial status and its needful stereotypes.

In terms of the book reviews, I was very taken with Eimear Rosato’s review of Mark McGovern’s Counterinsurgency and Collusion in Northern Ireland.  As a traveller (DFA officers who travelled to the North and reported back) and eventually Director of the Justice and Security Section of Anglo-Irish Division, I was heavily involved in this aspect of the NIPP so I look forward to getting a copy of the book itself.

There is so much more in this volume, including articles on poetry, drama and literature generally, not to mention nineteen reviews of recent publications all of which I look forward to reading, preferably beside a fire with a Jameson to hand.  I cannot recommend it highly enough as a volume to snuggle down with as the winter draws in. 

Eamonn

Eamonn McKee

Ambassador

Ottawa, 6 October

*Legend has it that Tony Blair gave Cheri, who had just taken silk, a copy of the Assessment and asked her to read it with her barrister’s eye to see if she thought he could still stand over Widgery.  Oh, were that true!

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Canada’s Capital and the Rideau Canal: The Irish Connection

My remarks for the Annual Commemoration at the Rideau Canal for those whose labours created this wonderful feat of engineering and the many hundreds of Irish and other emigrants who died in its construction. The commemoration is held on the first Monday of August, organized by the Irish Society of the National Capital Region in association with the Bytown Museum. Lieutenant-Colonel John By was the military engineer in charge of construction. It was an engineering masterpiece, as can be seen to this day. However allegations of budget overruns unfairly cost him his reputation. His legacy and that of all of those who helped build it is not only the canal. Without the canal there would be no Ottawa. He constructed a town for the workers which became Bytown. When Queen Victoria had to chose a capital for the Province of Canada in 1857 she faced a tricky choice. The provincial capital had since the creation of the Province in 1841 bounced from Kingston to Montreal, to Toronto, to Quebec, reflecting the inherent political turbulence of relations between the English and the French of Canada. The Province was split between the Anglophone and Francophone worlds. The great and good of Canada had deadlocked on a choice for the capital and with it the building of a parliament. It was left to the ‘Queen’s choice’. To the dismay of many, she boldly but wisely chose Ottawa, a small and rough town dominated by the lumber trade. Far from the threat of a US invasion, defensible and connected to much of the Province via the four valleys of the Ottawa, Gatineau, Rideau and St Lawrence, Ottawa was half-way between Anglo Toronto and French Quebec. John By certainly deserves the various landmarks in Ottawa called after him, most notably the lively Byward Market. In honoring him, we remember those who laboured in the mud and rock to turn his engineering expertise into reality. Canada owes them all their capital city.

A dhaoine uaisle, Ladies and Gentlemen, Dia dhaoibh go leir.

I am pleased to be with you all today for this important annual commemoration of those Irish workers and their families who tragically lost their lives during the construction of the Rideau Canal.

I would like to thank all those involved in organising this event today, particularly Sean Kealey, President of the Irish Society of the National Capital Region.  Thanks too to our MC Clare O’Connell Noon and piper Bethany Basillion.

I would like to welcome  Sean McKenny, President of the Ottawa & District Labour Council: and Robin Etherington, Executive Director of Musée Bytown Museum.

As we can see here today, the Rideau Canal is a wonderful piece of civil engineering.  We marvel at its ingenuity, at the harnessing of the power of water.  Looking at the locks lifting and lowering boats is almost hypnotic.

Today it is used for pleasure craft.  But when it was conceived and constructed it was designed as a strategic part of the defence of Canada against an attack from the United States.

The canal also formed a key link in Ottawa’s economic life, enabling the transportation of heavy goods from the Ottawa catchment to Lake Ontario, the St Lawrence and from there to the wider world.

If we were to build it today, we could all imagine the massive machinery involved, the heavy equipment, and the safety standards to protect workers.

It is virtually impossible for us to imagine constructing this with human labour alone.  Yet every load of soil, every stone hoisted, was moved by human energy and muscle at some point in its journey.

That energy and muscle was provided by emigrants and many of those were from Ireland. 

They came to Canada from an impoverished Ireland.  They came to build better lives for themselves and their families. 

Often too they sent money home.  These remittances sometimes made the difference between life and death.

They earned that money anyway that they could, often working in the most brutal and dangerous of environments. 

In many ways, their story is a timeless one.  It is, too often, still the story of immigrants today around the world. 

When work began on the Rideau Canal in 1826, it provided employment for thousands of Irish immigrants for the following six years.

The death rate here was high, as those workers succumbed to illnesses such as malaria and cholera.  Work-place accidents took a heavy toll.   

For those families left behind, such a death would be a disaster in a society that did not provide much if anything by way of support.

This Celtic Cross is a symbol of Ireland.  Its form dates back to the early Christian period beginning when St Patrick came to Ireland in the fifth century.

These crosses have always told stories, carved in stone.  This cross tells the story of the hundreds of people who died building this wonderful canal.

In helping to build it, they helped too to build Canada as a free, strong, and prosperous country.

It is right that we enjoy the canal today.  It is right too that we recall the price paid in human toil and toll in its construction.

Many more Irish would come to Canada and find shelter here and a new life.  Today, some 7 million Canadians have Irish ancestry, 14% of the population overall.  Some 40% of Quebecers have Irish ancestry. This cross reminds us of one part of that epic story. 

May all those who died here rest in peace.

Go n-eirí libh go leir.

Thank you.

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Matonabbee and Mr Dobbs: How an Irishman Accidentally Helped Create Canada

Arthur Dobbs exercised his influence on Canada without every setting foot here.  His relentless campaigning in London against the Hudson’s Bay Company eventually forced it to sponsor explorations not just of Hudson Bay but of the vast interior that lay to the north and west, terra incognita to Europeans. 

Dobbs’ campaign against the HBC also inadvertently created one of the most successful exploration partnerships in history, that between the great Chipewyan Chief and explorer Matonabbee and the Englishman Samuel Hearne. By inadvertently bringing these two together, Dobbs also unknowingly created a partnership that forged indigenous and western knowledge as a means of exploration and critically mapping.  This set the template for the exploration of the vast interior that lay beyond what was then considered Canada, the hunk of the east coast and the course of the St Lawrence known to Europeans. 

Dobbs himself was the personification of the imperialist and mercantile mind-set, holding to the beliefs of white and European superiority that dominated European thinking in the 18th century.  He would have been askance that someone like Matonabbee could possibly be considered one of the most significance men of his generation and one of the greatest explorers of the 18th century.

As Stephen R. Bown records in new history of the HBC, The Company, The Rise and Fall of the Hudson’s Bay’s Empire,[1]  Dobbs was keen to end the Company’s monopoly.  He was obsessed with the discovery of what he believed to be the Northwest Passage from Hudson’s Bay to Asia.  He was convinced that the Company was either indifferent to, or at worst concealing its existence, the better to preserve their exclusive domain and their trade monopoly. For Dobbs, the only way to open up exploration was to end the Company’s monopoly and encourage the prospects of trade that could finance exploration.  Dobbs would prove to be a relentless and formidable opponent, forcing the HBC on the defensive.

Dobbs hailed from an illustrious family in County Antrim. As an engineer and Surveyor-General of Ireland, he oversaw the construction of public buildings including the Irish Parliament in Dublin (during the golden age of Dublin before the catastrophe of the Act of Union in 1800).  High Sheriff of Antrim, MP for Carrickfergus (1727-60), an amateur scientist, sometime soldier, and a friend of Jonathan Swift, Dobbs represented the energy, confidence, imperialism, entitlement, and boundless ambition of the 18th century gentleman.[2] 

Dobbs was very much a man of his age in his obsession to find the Northwest Passage, the conviction that there existed in its eponymous direction a route from Europe to Asia.  This dream had spurred Europe’s great Age of Discovery (discovery at least for Europeans), including the voyages of Vasco de Gama and Christopher Columbus.  The source of most global economic activity and therefore wealth was Asia and its great arterial supply line, the famed Silk Road.  Western Europe, something of a global backwater, was desperate to get direct access to that trade.[3]

The Hudson Bay Company had been founded in 1670 by a Charter granted by Charles II to his family, friends and powerful figures in England during the Restoration, including Prince Rupert, the king’s cousin. [4] Its vast domain encompassed the rivers draining into Hudson Bay. The Charter therefore granted exclusive trading rights over an incomprehensibly large territory (later discovered to be four million square kilometres, about 40% of modern Canada[5], containing possibly ten million beavers).  That it was known as Prince Rupert’s Land says something of the presumption behind the enterprise; as if it was a vacant and uninhabited lot there for the taking. 

Though it was a commercial rather than imperial project, the Charter also bid the company to find a route to Asia.  The Company largely ignored this minor obligation though it did in 1690 sponsor a young explorer, Henry Kelsey, to head west.[6]  Thereafter and for the next sixty years it lost interest in the vast lands to the west and north of Lake Superior.  The Company stayed huddled in its trading posts in Hudson Bay where the main rivers of the interior drained into the sea on their great east-west journey across what was to become Canada.  The Company felt had no need to go inland since First Nations hunters and traders brought the supply of beaver pelts to them in exchange for the goods shipped from England (those most valued by the First Nations and Inuit being metal pots and kettles, axes, guns, fish hooks, blankets, beads, tobacco, brandy, sugar and the like).  The HBC would remain in complete ignorance of the complex diplomatic, trading and logistical system that operated across the country to bring the beaver pelts to them.

The indigenous were amused by the value that Europeans put on the beaver pelt and all the coveted goods they could get for them.  In fact, their own worn out coats of beaver skin were even more valuable since the rough outer hairs had been removed by use, exposing the soft interior fur.  It was this fur that made the best felt, in turn making and shaping hats that resisted rain.  Europe could simply not get enough felt to feed the fashion for hats, everything from tricorns to top hats. In fact, the trade in beaver pelt was the single most important factor is the creation of nation state of Canada.  And most of that was controlled by the HBC, albeit with some lesser competition from the French. So the history of the HBC is inextricably bound in the history of Canada’s foundation.[7]

Enter Arthur Dobbs, coming to London from Ireland with his obsessions and the manic energy and influence to pursue them. Bown writes:

“The biggest threat to the company’s monopoly in Hudson Bay emanated from the geographical musings and political agitations of a choleric Irishman named Arthur Dobbs.  The wealthy son of a prominent civil servant, Dobbs moved to London and became an intimate of the city’s prominent courtiers and financiers.  His favourite topics were free trade and the Northwest Passage, and the Company blocked the pathways leading to both of his dreams. An amateur hydrographer, he had analysed the tide levels in Hudson Bay and fixated upon the prevalence of whales that seemed never to exit into the Atlantic through the Hudson Strait.  Therefore, he concluded, the Northwest Passage must exist, in spite of the [failed] explorations a century earlier by Button, Foxe and James.”

As Bown recounts, Dobbs managed to convince the Royal Navy to fund a voyage of exploration which set off in 1741.  When it turned up nothing, Dobbs convinced the British Government to offer £20,000 to anyone who could find the Northwest Passage from Hudson Bay in 1745.  No one took up the offer so, ever relentless, Dobbs put together an expedition of two ships.  When that failed, Dobbs persuaded the Government to investigate the HBC in 1749 in a bid to break its monopoly.  Amidst wild claims and exaggerations, Dobbs lost credibility and returned for some years to Ireland.[8]

However, Dobbs’ hullabaloo about the HBC’s monopoly and the lack of any attempt to explore and exploit their enormous domain put them on the defensive.  To head off criticisms that they were failing to build Britain’s mercantile reach and protect their monopoly, the HBC was open now to opportunities to fund explorations. In 1754 the HBC sponsored an inland trip by Anthony Henday and his guide Attickasish. 

However, it was a report in 1767 from a Chipewyan chief and regular supplier to the HBC’s factories[9], the famed Matonabbee, of his travels deep into the interior that got the attention of Moses Norton, the commander of Prince of Wales fort in Hudson Bay.  Matonabbee was a natural born leader, diplomat, explorer, and multilinguist with a vast reservoir of indigenous knowledge that allowed him to traverse and survive the land’s unforgiving geography, tribal tensions, dangerous predators, and brutal climate (there were a lot of ways to die in Canada).  He reported to Norton that a river flowed into the sea out west. More than that, Matonabbee brought with him a hunk of copper.

The incentive to possibly find mineral wealth and just maybe the Northwest Passage finally stirred the company into action.  The sense of pressure and competition from French traders moving north and west added another rationale.[10] By 1770, Matonabbee was teamed up with Samuel Hearne, a hardy, intelligent, and experienced Royal Navy sailor trained in navigation and astronomy. On their epic trip of some eight thousand kilometres there and back, they reached the Arctic Ocean and concluded rightly that there was no Northwest Passage.

Shoalts: “Although Matonabbee and Hearne might not be anywhere near as famous as Lewis and Clarke, they ought to warrant serious consideration of as rival claimants to the title of the greatest exploring duo in North American history.”[11]

However, Bown makes an important distinction between their roles:  “The expedition was conceived by Moses Norton, financed by the Company and led by Matonabbee following his well-trodden commercial route.  Hearne was the map-maker and chronicler.”[12]

Yet what distinguishes travel from exploration is map-making and there was no doubt that their epic adventure succeeded as exploration because of the combination of the skills and knowledge of both men.  They established a template of cooperation that later explorers would follow, mixing indigenous and western knowledge to map and open the vast interior between the known east and the unknown lands between the Arctic Ocean to the north and the Pacific Ocean to the west. Along with the technology of mass violence, perfected by Europeans, map-making is the key tool of empire, the means to control and exploitation.

As for Arthur Dobbs, having bought some 400,000 acres in North Carolina in 1745, he moved there in 1754 to take up the position of Governor and encourage Scots-Irish settlement.  He had further adventures dealing with the French and Indian War, the start of the American Revolution, making the first recorded observation of the Venus flytrap and, inevitably given his personality (what in Northern Ireland they call ‘thran’) , engaging in running battles with the State Assembly.

In 1762, at the age of 73, Dobbs married a fifteen year old and got a stroke some months later (no comment). Though in a wheelchair, he resolved to return finally to Ireland but died in 1765 before making the journey home. 

By this time Matonabbee was a seasoned traveller and trader across the vast interior but his epic adventure with Samuel Hearne lay in the future.  Dobbs died without knowing of his contributions, designed and unwitting alike, to a key chapter in the creation in modern Canada.

Matonabbee’s end was tragic.  In 1782, a French raiding party destroyed the two HBC trading posts of Prince of Wales and York, taking as prisoners Hearne and most of the HNC employees to England.  Bereft of his status as the key between the supply of beaver and the supply of western goods, convinced that he would never see his friends again, without a home or supplies for the winter, with six wives and four children to feed, he committed suicide, a very rare occurrence among the indigenous. 

Hearne returned to Hudson Bay to rebuild but his heart was no longer in it and he died in England before his account of his epic adventure was published, to lasting acclaim. Though Hearne was in effect a passenger of Matonabbee on the exploration, it was he who won fame because he was the European and he wrote it down.

As for the HBC and their French rivals in the fur trade (the Nor’Westers), the competition drove them inexorably to explore, map, trade and settle their way across the interior in their hunt for beaver pelts. The western frontier of Canada moved inexorably westward as the hunt for the beaver continued, fueled by the insatiable European demand for its pelt.

So if there is a central character in this, it is in fact not the hunter or trader that made Canada but their prize, the industrious beaver.  In 1975, the National Symbol of Canada Act gave the beaver official status as an emblem of the national sovereignty of Canada.

Eamonn

Ottawa

March 2021


[1] (Doubleday, Canada 2020), 105

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Dobbs

[3] See Peter Frankopan’s The Silk Roads, A New History of the World.

[4] See Mark Bourrie’s Bush Runner, The Adventures of Pierre-Esprit Radisson, for an engaging biography of a remarkable man and a remarkable life: Radisson tried to sell the idea of trading from Hudson’s Bay for beaver pelts to the French who passed on it.

[5] Ibid, 42

[6] Ibid, 88-89: see also Adam Shoalts A History of Canada in Ten Maps (Penguin Canada, 2018), 125-6.  Kelsey’ trip lasted three years and took him as far as the plains.

[7] Harold Innis’ The Fur Trade in Canada, first published in 1930, represented a revolution in historical thinking, flipping the causal narrative from ‘great men’ to the beaver. See Charlotte Gray, The Promise of Canada, pp 104-123.

[8] Ibid, 155-8.

[9] Known as such because they were led by ‘factors’ or managers but they were simply trading posts.

[10] After the fall of New France, 1759, French competitors set up the North West Company and pushed exploration north and west.

[11] Shoalts, 178

[12] Op cit, 173

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