Connoisseur’s Day in Dublin «

Connoisseur’s Day in Dublin

Thursday 23rd March 2017

I was conducted round Dublin by Reggie Cresswell at the highest level. We went to the Caravaggio and Beyond Exhib that I had missed in London and saw once again The Taking of Christ which was found only the other day above the sideboard and grease-splattered in the refectory of an Irish presbytery. I would cross continents in a third class railway carriage to see this great painting, which is violent, sinister and radiant with compassion all at the same time. Other works not by Caravaggio were marvellous and I can’t remember what they were. How can one grasp an exhib if you’re not allowed to take pictures and forget to buy the catalogue? How can you catch a moonbeam in your hand? Reggie said that Mary Magdalene in one picture exactly resembled a sheep in another by the same artist. It wasn’t just the hair, the face also. Mary Mag was still incredibly holy and contrite. The sheep resemblance in no way detracted. We looked at a temporary exhib of works in the National Gallery of Ireland which is otherwise in restauro. Reggie said he can’t abide poultry in a picture. There were some Irish women artists of the late 19th century of interest and I was pleased to find works by such as Roger Fry whose pictures have been in the possession of family and friends at various times.

After lunch it was Yeats. An exhib of memorabilia in the Bibliotec National of Ireland. Incredibly detailed. Voices boomed out from the wall supposedly reading poems by Yeats but some of them didn’t know where one line ended and another began. Awful massacre. One of the voices appeared to be Seamus’s so who on earth were the others? Reggie was very moved by the exhib all the same and said Ireland was a great home to literature and the arts and writers are still heard years after they are dead. I asked What was wrong with Maud Gonne? Surely Yeats was really hot? But Reggie said his mouth was a big drawback, really rather horrid. Maud Gonne got into history anyway, perhaps more than she would have done if she’d managed to get over Yeats’ mouth. The actual Mrs Yeats never gets much of a look-in, I think because she swayed her husband in the direction of automatic writing. Reggie did say that Yeats was a bit bonkers in many respects (i.e. the automatic writing and moon worship) but still marvellous.

On the way back to the hotel where we were gentlemen,boys or lads, Reggie suddenly saw a tablet to Gerard Manley Hopkins among others on a wall. There was a church. Gerard Manley had been in Ireland, too, you know. It was a Byzantine-style church rather mucked about. The fresco cycle (copies of Raphael) was tremendously lurid as to colour. Reggie read in an old Pevsner later that they were ‘sadly faded’. Well, not any more. Restauro has taken place to the point of destruction. In one picture I’m sure I saw Felicity Kendall depicted. Reggie said, ‘She’s revered here, isn’t she?’

In the evening, Harry and Bertram gave their performance. They didn’t quite blow up the world but came close. Organised banging was the great feature. After the perf we went to a pub where there was nothing to eat. A packet of crisps was handed round below the counter. If caught eating we’d be thrown out apparently. One of the back-up performers who’d actually done the best banging of the lot had sustained injuries from her banging. The only hope of dinner was the Shelburne Hotel were Renaissance Hotels provide an international cuisine round the clock. The maitre d’ was insistent she could remember everything we were ordering in her head then came roaring back beside herself with the hilarity of having forgotten the lot. In the hands of the poor first-day waiter from Eastern Europe, a glass of water cascaded over Mercury Mr Kitten and the other more knowing, whippy queen waiter dripped Sauce mornay all over everything without realising it as he swiped at the crisis.