St. Patrick's Cathedral and Dubh Linn: The Dark Pool

Today we headed into town with the goal of seeing St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Christ Church Cathedral, and the Book of Kells.  We did manage one of the three, but happened upon a few unexpected extras that more than made up for the rest.

    First, we wandered down to St. Patrick's.  The cathedral is located on the site where St. Patrick (he of the snakes and St. Patrick's Day) supposedly baptized converts (aka "the snakes," according to modern pagan teachings) at a well that once existed there.  Some form of church has existed at the site since the 5th century.  

Just sit with that one for a minute.

    St. Patrick has no mystical connotations for me- he is, simply (albeit powerfully), a cleric from long ago who changed the face of a country. But he did actually exist.  He really did baptize people here 1500 years ago.  They dug up a slab about 150 years ago that covered what they believe was the well.  The well. Hands from the 5th century may very well have touched it, likely with deepest reverence, as they gave it shape for its holy purpose.

    I'll tell you what, viewing that slab was more powerful for me than gazing at all the ornate marble and granite and stained glass.

    But the marble and granite and stained glass were still pretty spectacular.  The shot of the nave is kind of compulsory since it really is impressive, especially if you consider that they didn't have modern construction equipement.  

    But I was more taken with the attention to even the smallest details.  The tile on the floor, for example, was beautiful and fascinating by turns.

    It's hard to know exactly which parts of the church were built when.  The original wooden structure was built in the 5th century.  A stone church replaced it in 1191.  Most of today's building was constructed in the 13th century, but then it has been repaired and expanded on an ongoing basis since then.  

    The stained glass windows were commissioned over an extended period of time.  One of the sons of the founder of Guinness (that family being true benefactors to the city over the years) commissioned one window, showcasing in true fashion the humor of the Irish.  It is the scene from the gospels of the woman at the well, and the inscription reads, " I was thirsty and ye gave me drink."  I couldn't find it to take a photo- there is a slim possibility that window is at Christ Church.  I'll let you know.  But here's a photo of some of the truly magnificent stained glass that lit the sanctuary.

   Here is one last photo from the Cathedral.  It's Jonathan Swift's epitaph.  For those of you who only know him as the author of Gulliver's Travels, join the club.  (and did you know that book was "obviously an anti-whig allegory"  as one guide book said?  I didn't either.)  He was also the dean of the cathedral for many years and while crusty with most, a great friend to the poor.  His epitaph reads in part: "Here lies the body of Jonathan Swift...where fierce indignation can no longer rend his heart."  It resonated with me, and I'm guessing it resonates with many others who pay attention to the world around them.  No, I'm not getting angrier as I get older.

Ok, yes I am.

Oh my God, am I going to be one of those old ladies who give dirty looks to the durned kids for being so rude, hitting people with my cane when they misbehave, and with utter disregard for appropriateness, "tell it like I see it" as they say?  If I ever become such a person, I am relying on you, my nearest and dearest, to let me know.

Of course, I'll probably just hit you with my cane for your efforts.

    We left St. Patrick's, started for Christ Church, had several false successes as we realized there are really quite a lot of old, imposing looking churches in Dublin, finally found Christ Church, realized we were burnt out on Cathedrals for the day, and started home.  On the walk, Michael, Kaia, and Tessa were absolutely beyond the pale.  

No really, they were beyond the Pale.  Turns out that expression derives from the original walls of the city, called The Pale, as established by the British. Everything within those walls was civilized, everything beyond the Pale was uncivilized territory.  There they stand, outside a remanent of the original wall.

Heathens.

    We really did intend to just go home, but on the way we accidentally stumbled into a little paradise.  We were trying to find a short cut onto the next road, but came upon a snake fountain.  I had a vague recollection that I'd seen it in some book and that it marked something important, but beyond that I had no idea where we were. (That's Dublin Castle behind it, fyi. It's right in the middle of the city)

    But we realized we were in an beautiful little walled in park.  Take a close look at the grass.  You may be able to tell that running through it all is a traditional Celtic pattern- snakes twined around each other, made out of bricks.  You can see two of their heads near the bottom of the photo.

    When we got back I looked up the snake fountain.  I was right- it was important!  The city of Dublin gets its name from the Gaelic "Dubh Linn," which means "dark pool."  The park is the site of the original dark pool, from which the name derives.  I'm not sure why there was a snake theme.  I know it is historically a symbol of rebirth, or the endless cycle of life, but don't know if that was the intention here.

    A quick aside, abutting the park was another unexpected treasure- the Chester Beatty library, housing an enormous collection of ancient manuscripts (he donated over 66,000).  It was free to get in, and contains manuscripts that certainly equal the Book of Kells in beauty.  But it also has glorious Quar'ans, Oriental art work, and thousands of other Medieval manuscripts.  We wen't in about 25 minutes before it closed, but we'll be back.  Even Kai and Tess were entranced. 

    Off the back of the garden was a memorial garden dedicated to the Garda (Irish police) who have fallen in service.  Having seen many memorial gardens, I think this one was one of the loveliest and richest in meaning.  I hesitated to take a photo, but as someone who is regularly involved with commemorating loss, I didn't want to forget it.

    I'm paraphrasing their explanation now:  The garden is based on the idea of a tree, cut down before its time.  The rings of varying width on the ground represent the rings on the stump of a tree, each indicating a year of life. The stone wall toward the back, pierced with a shard of glass, represents the surprising fragility of life.  The black and white stone sculpture to the left in the park is dedicated to those who have fallen.  And the glass sculpture to the right of the park is dedicated to those left behind, symbolizing their sudden loss and grief.  Above is a larger photo of the glass sculpture.  All around the edges of the garden are inscribed the name of the fallen.  I appreciated that the city had taken such care in creating a place that would not only have meaning for loved ones left behind but also serve as a reminder to everyone else of the risk and cost of such work.  

    We left the garden and headed home, again, stopping on the way for some take out Indian food, which was some of the best I've had.  While we waited....and waited, and waited, I took Tessa and Kaia out to distract them by looking at the flowers.

So here is one last photo for tonight, of them in front of the ubiquitous (but still lovely!) petunias.