A "'Vert to Australianism": Beatrice Grimshaw and the Bicentenary
1987; Springer International Publishing; Volume: 13; Issue: 2 Linguagem: Inglês
ISSN
0311-4198
Autores Tópico(s)Irish and British Studies
ResumoCloona[gh] House, Dunmurry, Co. Antrim, Ireland, Nov. 1979. One Sunday morning, while on me way to mass/I met a bloody Orangeman and killed him for his pass/I killed him for his pass me boys and sent his soul to hell/and when he came back he had a strange tale to tell...What, the of us are wondering, are we doing here? Here is a pleasant Irish country home, which would seem a miniature Versailles were it not for the helicopter pad. For this pleasant Irish country home is the residence of the Commander-in-Chief of the British Army in Northern Ireland. Apart from his titles and the many initials after his name, General Sir xxxxx, KCGB, OBE, shall be nameless; so shall his wife, Lady X. The aide-de-camp must also be anonymous, though I can hardly forget someone who bolts out of the official car before me, in case snipers attack us from the trees. I am here simply because Beatrice Grimshaw was born here. she didn't live here long, since her father's spending finally caught up with his drinking, and the family were disposessed when she was only seven. I don't, by any means, want to write one of those ghastly biographical pieces verifying, as one of my thesis supervisors used to put it, every time the subject pissed against a barn door (something which she, in any event, would have found hard to do). she carried a picture of this home with her all her life. It is now over 100 years after her birth, and nearly 30 years after her death, but one of the few possessions, when she died in a public hospital and was buried in a pauper's grave, was a photograph of this house.The General and his wife profess absolute delight that I invade their Sunday morning privacy. course I could never have got here without a security check which extended as far as Australia. she wrote books? Lady General is asking, presiding over the tea-pot. Yes, 40, more or less. And was Irish? she helpfully pursues. Yes -- I mean, no -- I mean, well, she described herself as a `convert' to Australianism. She was also a convert to Catholicism. Typically Irish, in other Lady X suggests mournfully. Of course, I don't mean this critically, but aren't the Irish the most unusual people? So difficult to converse with! All they seem to care about is race, history, religion or politics! The conversation seems headed straight towards disaster, as Sir General unexpectedly remarks that she must be thinking of her second-cousin several times removed, Declan, so boringly described, from time to time, by the BBC, as a notable patriot and statesman. The tedious remote cousin Declan, it seems, is a T.D. (what we British would call an M.P., the valiant aide-de-camp whispers to me) in the Dail (what we would call Parliament) in Dublin. If worse could possibly follow, it does, since it appears that Declan, whom they would all like to forget, has a brother called Donal, also a T.D. I am fascinated since, finally, the conversation looks like taking off the ground. If these two representatives of Empire are embarrassed by Declan and Donal, how much blarney the latter two must have to practise, in order to explain away their relationship, however, tenuous, to the Commander of what they no doubt call the four counties! (But we don't talk about Lady X's relatives, the aide advises.) Since this excruciating morning has already been littered, virtually to extinction, with that helpful expression: Quite, I am at a loss for words, but a General's wife can, fortunately, smooth over any conversation. Relentlessly she continues: At least the Irish are the most wonderful craftspeople, aren't they? Which reminds me -- I'm about to go to the silver market -- you will excuse me, won't you? Or would you like to come along? Perhaps you, too, often need silver Christening mugs at the last moment when a friend -- . I swallow my tea, if not my astonishment: But this is Sunday morning in Belfast! All anybody is allowed to do is go to church! …
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