The travel journal of Séamus Ennis, legendary recorder of Irish stories and music, is a rich record of another era, writes Pól Ó Muirí
The convention that diaries are intimate manuscripts for the eyes of the author only has long since been abandoned. The contemporary diary should be salacious or controversial. Beans must be spilt; reputations (even of the diarist) must be shredded. Séamus Ennis's travel journal, Mise an Fear Ceoil (I am the music man) does no such thing; his is an altogether more quiet affair, describing his journeys (I won't say adventures) as a collector for the Irish Folklore Commission, founded in 1935. Ennis's speciality was music and song and he spent the years 1942-1946 as a full-time field operative, working in Galway, Donegal, Mayo, Clare and, for a short while, Cavan and Limerick. The diary is almost entirely in Irish, bar a few English entries about English-speaking areas.
Séamus Ennis (1919-1982) will be instantly recognisable to anyone with even a passing interest in traditional music. He was a piper of note, a tin whistle player, a singer and storyteller. (Fortuitously, Gael Linn recently re-released one of his albums, Séamus Ennis: Ceol, Scéalta agus Amhráin, and I had his voice in my head while reading this diary.) Ennis's work was part of a great undertaking - begun by Douglas Hyde - to preserve the songs and folklore of Irish-speaking Ireland.
His accounts of his travels are a written record of where he had been, what he had recorded and with whom he had spoken, which he then sent back to his employers in the commission. As a consequence, the diary lacks the personal touch of Amhlaoibh Ó Súilleabháin's diary in which he describes the political and social upheavals in Kilkenny in the early 19th century and which provides a rich and poignant account of his times. Neither is Ennis's writing as reflective on art as that of the writer Liam Mac Cóil in his diary, Nótaí ón Lár, in which he offers an insight into the life of an Irish-language writer in contemporary Ireland.
WHILE ENNIS'S DIARY contains descriptions of Gaeltacht areas long since vanished, there is little sense of melancholy in his writing. His descriptions are often matter of fact to the point of being mundane. The state of his bicycle is an ongoing concern; as is the weather and his need to find new tunes and songs. Beyond that, however, there is his great respect for those he meets, the learning they possess and a realisation that he was moving among a very cultured and noble people.
He rarely gives away too much about himself. His parents are mentioned and the odd mishap recorded. He took a bad tumble off his bicycle on one occasion after his brakes failed. His quiet recounting of the tale is all the more effective because it is so unusual: his sudden realisation that he is in trouble and his decision to throw himself off his bike provide a glimpse of the man rather than the collector. He lies by the roadside quietly checking his limbs and realises that he had a lucky escape - his head is only inches from a stone wall and he could easily have bashed it open.
Similarly, Ennis is coy about his own impact on local communities. He admits, very modestly, that people tend to be happy to see him. He is cajoled into playing the odd tune now and again, but he does not mention his mastery of the uilleann pipes and his deep knowledge of traditional music.
ONE CAN ONLY marvel at his tenacity in collecting material. The work was far from glamorous. Essentially, he would find a contact, ask for a song or tune, write it down and then rewrite it for the archives. The writing was all done by hand. It was laborious but Ennis kept to his task and traditional music is the better for his efforts. (Indeed, the monotony of Ennis's work may well strike a chord with those in Irish-language groups who spend their time filling in grant applications.)
There is an old-fashioned sensibility to this diary which may jar with the contemporary mind. I doubt that many in today's music scene would be quite so diligent in attending Mass - both on Sundays and on Holy Days. Nor would many be happy to follow Ennis's frugal example while on the road. It was a Spartan existence but one which did not concern him. Nor does their lack of material wealth seem to have bothered the people he met. There are no big cars or houses in this story. Property is a field of potatoes and wealth is invariably defined by Ennis as the number of songs someone gives him, rather than what they have in their bank account.
(It should, of course, be remembered that this is Ennis's impression of Gaeltacht people. What they made of him is not recorded, though the book's editor, Ríonach Uí Ógáin, notes that stories about Ennis still survive amongst the communities he visited. Uí Ógáin, a senior lecturer in folklore at UCD, provides numerous footnotes which give the reader context and guidance.)
People are the lifeblood of this book - some of them are still famed for their contribution to Irish culture and some are remembered only by their kith and kin. It is startling to see the name of Sorcha Ní Ghuairim in the diary. Ní Ghuairim was a Connemara singer of great note and a radical who contributed to the socialist newspaper, An t-Éireannach. It is moving to see references to her from the 1940s, to realise the contribution that this young woman was beginning to make to preserving her people's culture and to know that, 30-odd years later, she would die a lonely death in London.
Mentioned too is the great Donegal folklorist, Seán Ó hEochaidh, a man who did so much to preserve the lore of his native county. Given the development of the language, this folklore has become even more valuable as it provides a rich vein of Irish for students. It is only on reading Ennis's account that one realises the effort that went into collecting this material and the importance of the achievement.
And there is, of course, the years covered by Ennis's travels - 1942-1946. The second World War barely impinges on Ennis's work except in so far as rationing makes it difficult to get good quality writing paper. Ennis mentions in passing the surrender of German forces in Europe during May 1945. The final surrender in Europe is greeted by old people, he writes, with indifference - their greatest concern is when will tea be more widely available. De Valera's reply to Winston Churchill's charge of betraying the Allies is also mentioned and, for once, Ennis becomes animated; de Valera's speech is great.
IRISH NEUTRALITY DURING the second World War is still a contentious issue. (Though the Finns fought with Hitler and no one holds it against them any more!) Ennis's experiences provide a stark contrast to the carnage of European battlefields. Here was a man, supported by his government, whose only aim was to preserve song and music and who, to do that, travelled simply and relied upon the generosity and good nature of those around him to complete his task. People are valued for their poetry not for their prowess as fighting men. Ennis and his contemporaries made a sustained attempt to preserve song and story in the most fundamental way - by talking to people and treating them with respect. His diaries are a very profound commentary on the priorities of de Valera's Ireland.
• 'Mise an fear ceoil': Séamus Ennis - Dialann Taistil 1942-1946, edited by Ríonach uí Ógáin, is published by Cló Iar-Chonnachta, €45