Workers’ Arts League

(originally published in The Plough, reprinted with permission)

One would find it odd that a man who walked around Dublin City in the early 19th century ashen faced, dressed in a voluminous cloak, wearing green spectacles, a blond wig and a pointed hat with two umbrellas under each arm would be as inconspicuous to the public as this man is today. Eccentricity though is not what should have made James Clarence Mangan more popularly known. His poetry and essays are prepared with enough beauty and originality to break through the bourgeois face of literary Ireland but alas it isn’t so. Literary Ireland consults Britain and America before it declares which Irish poets are great. Mangan is not one of “the greats” because he was a true Dubliner. To juxtapose him with someone like James Joyce is to create a distinction between a Euro-American prose and a true Dublin prose. Joyce’s prose was on a Dublin theme, Mangan’s prose was Dublin to the core. This all relates to the fact that academic Ireland is national in form but British in content. We haven’t enough space to go into that here but those of you who wish to read up on it would be advised to read the book “The Dubliner-the life and times and writings of James Clarence Mangan” by Brendan Clifford, available from Athol books.

Mangan was born and raised in the south inner city of Dublin, Fishamble Street (now lord Edward Street) in a house opposite the Christ church cathedral. He was the son of a father who he described as a “human boa constrictor” and he blamed his parents for most of his life’s shortcomings. At the age of 15 he took a job in a scrivener’s office in York Street, his work involved the tedious task of copying legal documents by hand. He took up writing as a pastime during his time at the scrivener’s office and began writing poetry, puzzles, and other items in a variety of Dublin publications. During his life Mangan’s work was to appear in such publications as “The Comet”, “The Irish penny journal” and “The Nation”. Although his early work was apolitical his later work had a lot of political content. He had strong connections with the Young Ireland movement and wrote in the paper “The Nation” on a regular basis. Young Ireland was not like the national movement which secured national freedom in 1922. It stood squarely for religious freedom for a start. Young Ireland was destroyed by the bourgeois nationalists in the decade after 1900. In fact, if the Nationalist movement which secured national freedom in 1922 would have been an evolution from Young Ireland then it would have had enough non-catholic support to create a state which included the whole of the island. But national freedom was led by the Catholic bourgeoisie and this meant the partition of the state at the point of “independence”.

Mangan was unfortunately a victim of the cholera epidemic in Dublin in 1849. While he was in the Meath Hospital he sensed his death so he frantically wrote down all his last works on any piece of paper he could find. A nurse binned these pieces of paper after his death because she had previously been reprimanded for not being tidy enough, and so we will never see what was written during his last few days in Hospital. They have been binned. Just like Mangans poetry has been binned by the bourgeois Literary of Ireland. His essays, his influence in Irish political and cultural life, his life story of toil and hardship in an ugly and cultureless Dublin can only be found in obscure pamphlets written not by lovers of poetry but mostly by political activists who understand that culture can only be achieved by man if he is free from the toil of work. Mangan represents the cultural revolution of the working class that would take place after the emancipation of the workers. The bourgeoisie in Ireland are the class of people who have been free from the toil of work who were able to influence what we now call Irish culture. Culture and Art should not be solely in the hands of a minority class, it is for all. Along with the Socialist planned economy and the reduction of hours of work for the working class will come an amazing cultural revolution. The workers will finally be in a position to be involved in Culture and it will flourish.

Unfortunately we just don’t have the material for me to write more about Mangan’s life. A lot of his time is undocumented as he seems to “disappear” for large chunks of history. I could tell you that he had a drink and opium habit, I could tell you which pubs and dens he drank in. But I don’t think that’s important, either is the fact that as he got older he became more eccentric and the description of his attire given at the start of this essay can only really be contributed to this stage of his life. What I can do in this essay however is point out that there is more to Irish culture than what the bourgeois academics of Literary Ireland claim. Its our duty to seek out and reclaim this aspect of our history because nine times out of ten the majority of the population (workers) can not connect or relate to the culture of the rich. Mangan is a Dublin poet true and true, he lived his whole life as a worker in Dublin and his poems and essays were printed in Dublin journals. If your looking for literature that really represents Dublin and Ireland then Mangan is your man.

Mangan was the poet laureate for The Nation. In its first issue he wrote this. Mangan has poems that are more widely known and appreciated, but seen as we touched on his political persuasion in this short essay I think this would be the right poem to re-print.

The Nation’s First Number

Tis a great day, and glorious, o public, for you-
This October fifteenth, Eighteenth Forty and Two!
For on this day of days, lo! The Nation comes forth,
To commence its career of wit, Wisdom and Worth-
To give genius its due – to do battle with wrong-
And achieve things undreamed of as yet save in song.
Then arise! Fling aside your dark mantle of slumber,
And welcome in chorus The Nation’s First Number.

Here we are, thanks to heaven, in an epoch when mind
Is unfettering our captives and couching our blind;
And the press with its thunders keeps marring the mirth
Of those tyrants and bigots that still curse the earth
Be it ours to stand forth and contend in the van
Of the truths legions for freedom, that birthright of man,
Shaking off the dull cobwebs that else might encumber
Our weapon-the pen-in The Nation’s First Number.

We announce a new era – be this our first news –
When the serf grinding landlords shall shake in their shoes;
While the ark of a bloodless yet mighty reform
Shall emerge from the flood of a popular storm!
Well we know how the lickspittle panders to power,
Feel and fear the approach of that death dealing hour;
But we toss these aside – such vile vagabond lumber
Are but just worth a groan in The Nation’s First Number.

Though we take not our motto, Nul n’a de l’esprit,
(As they once did in Paris) hors nos bons amis,
We may boast that for first-rate endowments, our band
Form a phalanx unmatched in – or out of – the land.
Poets, Patriots, Linguists, with reading like Parrs-
Critics keener than sabres – wits brighter than stars;
And reasoners as cool as the coolest cu-cumber
Form the host that shine out in The Nation’s First Number.

We shall sketch living manners – and men – in a style
That will scarcely be sneezed at, we guess, for a while;
Build up stories as fast as of yore Mother Bunch,
And for all twists take the shine out punch;
Thus our wisdom and Quizdom will finely agree
Very much, public dear, we conceive, as you see
Do the lights and the shades that illume and adumber
Each beautiful page of The Nation’s First Number.

A word more – to Old Ireland our first love is given;
Still, our friendship hath arms for all lands under heaven.
We are Irish – we vaunt it – all o’er and all out;
But we wish not that England shall “sneak up the spout”
Then, O’public! Here, there, and everywhere through the world,
Wheresoe’er Truths and Liberty’s flags are unfurled,
From the Suir to the Tweed, from the Boyne to the Humber,
Raise one shout of applause for The Nation’s First Number.

For more information,

The Dubliner-the life and times and writings of James Clarence Mangan by Brendan Clifford Athol books
http://www.atholbooks.org/index.php

Poems-James Clarence Mangan- Gallery books.

Hidden Dublin-deadbeats,dossers and decent skins-Frank Hopkins (Mercier)

Wiki
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Clarence_Mangan

– RedFlag32