“To be nobody but yourself – in a world which is doing its best night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”
E.E.Cummings

Irish Ancestry

Ireland is an enigma to me. It calls me, I hear its song and its pull through deep and strong blood roots. Yet in some way I can never know Ireland, it will always remain a place where reality and myth, where fact and imagination meld and merge. What is ‘real’ of my Irish roots, what is fantasy? There is no way to know – as the story I tell here relates. Yet what I do know is that Irish blood, and celtic blood, flows through my veins.

In the early 1980’s I visited Ireland for the first time, with my parents. My Grandfather had talked so often in riddles of his homeland, yet would never go back, and I had recently gone through the ending of a relationship that tore at my soul. Ireland, back to our roots, seemed the right place to go. We searched, and we searched for the tangible. We found gravestones with our family name in many places, we found histories and legends around the family, we saw pales that our kin had trodden for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years before. We saw the slopes of that faery place – Sievenaman We explored the wonderful wild Burren and stood on top of the Cliffs of Moher, where I honoured (unknowingly) the Cailleach, the Hag. e learned how to pronounce Thurles as a native. We heard others who share our name tell us we had ‘the Cleere countenance’. We heard the wonderfully Irish literal and yet oh so subtle way of dealing with life, and their way of asking a question when questioned:

“Excuse me, do you know where Ballyknockane is please?”
“Ahh, indeed I do.”
“Er, umm. Well, can you tell me how to get there please?”
“Ahh, well now. But why would you be wanting to know that?”

Oh how we explored! And yet, we discovered little. I cannot say why, though I can guess. But none of that really matters. Ireland is part of me, and I am part of Ireland. And yet, then again, I discovered so much…..

So it is that my Irish history is of immense importance to me. My surname is Cleere, and many references relate the name a number of possible sources – through Clare (the County) Clere, Cleare, O’Cleirigh and other variations. Here is the story of my paternal family as I believe it to be…

The Cleere family, my Cleere family, hail from County Kilkenny and south Tipperary in Eire it seems. My Grandfather was born in Ireland and came across to England in the 1920’s, at the time of the Anglo-Irish war, or the “troubles” as they were known. He was always reticent to speak of exactly where he was born and brought up, and to this remains as much a mystery as so much of Ireland will always be. But the threads of connection, and a little research seems to lead me to a place called Ballingarry, a place known in recent Irish history. Certainly when he was alive he used to talk of the beautiful mountain of Slievenaman and how wonderful it looked through the soft Irish rain.

The area of Slievenamon was known in ancient times as Sliabh Díle, and covers an area of about 7,000 acres, most of which, about 5,000 acres is open mountain commonage. The mountain rises to 722 metres over the surrounding plain at it’s highest point and dominates the landscape standing westwards of the lower hills that stretch eastwards from it to Ahenny and then to Windgap in County Kilkenny.

This wonderful part of Eire is steeped in ancient Irish history, Slievenaman deriving it’s name from the fairy women of Feimheinn, an ancient territorial name. Myth states that the Irish God/Hero Fionn MacCumhaill came from here. Here it is that Grainne raced the women of Ireland to become the bride of Fionn….. It is here Midir swept beautiful Etain to, onlookers seing two white swans flying away into the distance…..

The very earliest settlers, coming up the rivers in stone age coracles must have been attracted to it’s gentle heights and great forests teeming with game. Later, when agriculture became established and the valleys were cleared for their crops, the mountain, due to it’s centrality and accessibility became a place of refuge, of worship and burial, and spirituality.

Grandad clearly missed Ireland, but sadly never went back there after he came to England in search of work. County Kilkenny and parts of south Tipperary is full of the family surname, although I have rarely heard or seen the name (spelt exactly the same way) anywhere else. There are a few living in England who are not direct relations, but they are pretty thin on the ground. Being originally an Irish and a Roman Catholic family I have a huge circle of relatives of various generations. I have Uncles and Aunts galore, without considering the many cousins.

It would be easy to assume these thoughts make me one of those individuals trying to recapture a non-existent Irish ‘Golden Age’. Nothing could be further from the truth, as I know only too well that my Irish family would have been poor beyond my comprehension.

Celtic Mythology

My interest in Celtic Myth and Legend stems from my inner thoughts on fate and fortune, of ancient gods and rituals, and of a need to understand the past – to re-learn what has been lost over time through ignorance and so called progress.

In particular I have become totally involved with the female characters which Celtic legend is so rich with. Queen Maeve from The Tain is probably my particular favourite, although there are many others. If you have the chance, then you should read The Tain as translated by Thomas Kinsella. The story is the centre-piece of the 8th Century Ulster cycle of heroic tales. It tells the story of a great cattle-raid, the invasion of Ulster by the armies of Maeve (Medb) and Ailill, queen and king of Connacht, and their allies, who were seeking to carry off the great Brown Bull of Cuailnge. The supposed hero of the tale is Cuchulainn, the Hound of Ulster, who resists the invaders single-handed while the rest of Ulster’s warriors lie sick. It is a simply brilliant tale, but Maeve is the character who really stands out.

I intend at some stage to add dedicated Celtic Mythology pages to this site, and give short accounts of many of the wonderful legends that abound of women in Celtic tales. They are proud, powerful and awe-inspiring, as well as sometimes being cunning, devious and secretive. I suppose they are such vivid characters because the society in which they are based was a very matriarchal one. Before Christianity, and the coming of the Romans, the role of women was a highly regarded mystical one which men were not privy to, and indeed feared.

Meaning and Origins of the name “Cleere”

The Book of Irish Names, First Family & Place Names has CLARE listed as an honorary name for St. Clare of Assisi (1193-1253). The Irish county of Clare in Munster derives from either clar, “plain”, or from the Anglo-Norman name of de Clare.According to a number of other sources, the names CLEAR, CLEARE, CLEERE and CLERE as variations of CLARE, which is French-Latin in derivation for “plain”, as above. However, Anglo-Saxon and English derivatives get their name form the Norman family of St. Clair or de Clair.

Most sources (and certainly family legend) attribute the name cleirigh to the ancestors of Richard FitzGilbert de Clare (1130-1176), second Earl of Pembroke. De Clare, who was nicknamed “Strongbow”, was the leader of the Anglo-Norman invasion of Ireland under Henry II.

The Anglo-Norman invasion

It is part of Druidry to honour the ancestors, good or bad, the beautiful and the bastards. After all, every family will have it’s share of all of those! I pass no judgment on the following, but it seems fairly certain that I would have no links with Ireland if the following tale had not occurred

The story is a bit of a family legend, and whilst it can be said that the Normans did Ireland no favours (just as they did none for England or Wales), I have shown it here, because it is a romantic and exciting tale. It is also true that Fitzgilbert De Clare left no male heir when he died, and therefore it is thought by many as a work of fiction to suppose there is any lineage with those whose history I describe here. It is said to be a fanciful tale of an “alleged” ancestor who cannot be, because he only had one son who later died without a male heir. But the truth is that when the line of his daughters are traced one female descendant marries another de Clare some three generations later, and the line re-appears. And in any case, why allow the facts to spoil a good tale…….

The Anglo-Irish invasion is the story of how the Cleere family came to Ireland. It began when two warrior kings, Dermot MacMurrough of Leinster and Tiernan O’Rourke of Breifne were struggling for political supremacy. Between 1156 and 1166 the struggled swayed back and forth with raids, counter-raids, bravery and brutality on both sides. The conflict became even more bitter when O’Rourke’s wife was abducted by MacMurrough. Bizarrely, Dervorgilla, O’Rourke’s wife, arranged the abduction herself, stage managing the whole event.

Tiernan O’Rourke was so enraged at this abduction that the dispute became personal, and he refused to rest until Dermot was destroyed. When the MacMurrough stronghold of Ferns finally fell to O’Rourke and his allies, MacMurrough prepared to flee the country. He sailed away secretly with few followers in August 1166, and landed at Bristol.

Dermot, however, was determined to recover his lands and his inheritance. He began scouring Europe for King Henry II in order to petition him for assistance.

King Henry was more French than English. He was born in Normandy, raised in France and spoke Norman French. His empire stretched form England, Wales and Scotland throughout the continent to Normandy, Anjou, Maine, Poitou and Aquitaine. MacMurrough finally found the King in Aquitaine. King Henry was already interested in Ireland. In 1155 he had proposed an invasion of Ireland, but the project never reached fruition. In 1166, however, with the impressive figure of Dermot before him, King Henry accepted MacMurrough’s offer of fealty to the King in return for supporting the warrior lord in his quest to regain his lands.

Dermot returned to Bristol, but found little support for his expedition. In desperation, he turned to the Normans across the Severn. These Normans were in constant battle with the native Welsh. They were ruthless, cunning, with no special allegiance to England, Wales or France. More importantly they were tough and land-hungry.

Dermot sought one of the great Norman leaders in Wales, Richard FitzGilbert de Clare, earl of Pembroke. de Clare agreed to lead an armed force to Ireland and restore Dermot to power, but in return he demanded the hand of Dermot’s eldest daughter, Aoife (Eva), in marriage, and the right of succession to the kingdom of Leinster.

A number of Norman knights immediately followed Dermot back to Ireland, and he recovered his local powerbase with their support. A number of other battles and skirmishes followed before de Clare (nicknamed Strongbow), landed near Waterford on the 23rd August 1167. By nightfall, the City had fallen to the Norman forces. Legend has it that MacMurrough brought his daughter, Aoife, to Strongbow on the battlefield, where they were married amongst the dead and dying. Whilst not historically accurate, it is symbolically true since the marriage was a key part of the Norman victory, and in many ways is reminiscent of a constant repetitive theme in Irish myth, that of the God marrying the Goddess to ensure the fertility of the land.

Fortunes continued to favour the Normans, and on 21st September 1170, de Clare and Normans took Dublin. However, Strongbow’s worries were not yet over. The next threat he faced was from his own king, Henry II. Now the island had been effectively conquered, the King had no intention of allowing his subjects the opportunity of creating their own kingdom under the strong leadership of Strongbow. So, he arrived at Waterford in October 1171. A solution was attempted with King Henry recognizing some of his Norman nobles as overlords to various parts of Ireland. Strongbow was given most of Leinster as a vassal of the King.

That this solution failed was due to the appointment of an Irish ard-ri (high king), who was such in name only. The ard-ri found it impossible to enforce his authority, whilst Henry was unable to restrain his barons seizing more and more Irish land. Indeed, the King made several grants of land without consulting the Irish kings or the ard-ri. By 1250, less than eighty years after the piecemeal invasion began, three quarters of the country had been overrun by the Normans.

On his death, Strongbow was buried in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, which he had helped to build.

It seems that ever since that time until so very recently the Irish people have struggled to regain the rightful custodianship of their land. I do not see or feel myself as connected to the Normans who invaded Ireland all those years ago, but part of me is of Ireland, and will always be so. If my past is linked with that invasion, then I must look upon it as a providence, for without it I would have no connection with the Ireland I love.

Ireland today

Since these events of over 800 years ago, the Irish have suffered much. The Tudor conquest, which had arisen in order to make protestant England safe in a divided Europe, the systematic colonization of the land during the 17th Century and the terror contrived by Oliver Cromwell all spring to mind.

In addition the Irish Famines of 1845-50 saw the land decimated and whole families removed form the land they had worked for generations. Nothing has been more responsible for the vast numbers of Irish descendants throughout the world, particularly the USA. But it should be remembered that the Irish people were treated no differently than if the disaster had occurred on the English mainland, in Scotland or Wales. The general distain most governments felt for the ordinary people should not be underestimated. Sir Robert Peel tried in vain to help the struggling Irish, going so far as to repeal the corn laws, which protected the English landowners and gentry farmer. His actions brought the government down, and tore the Tories apart.

Nonetheless, the peace process now seems to have gained momentum, and the politics of violence may have finally been consigned to history. I certainly hope so. The Irish government has now rescinded all its demands for the return of Ulster to the Irish Republic, the IRA has agreed to the decommissioning of arms, and self determination has once again returned to Belfast, but the Irish struggle will continue, in whatever form, until the whole island is finally and irrevocably reunited. Sadly, the intransigent position of polarized political factions make this continued dispute inevitable. As someone who follows a Druidic path I pray that it is a peaceful struggle, and that the hatred and killing is over once and for all.

Added May 2005:

Since I wrote the paragraphs above, much seems to change and yet much remains the same as ever. Political and religious divides, mistrust, murders and robbery seem to constantly get in the way of a real and permanent solution. So perhaps, in future, my comments should be made through my journal pages – what is written here appears bland and so out of date so very quickly. Ireland, Eire, sweet Eriu – such a beautiful enigma….