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Théâtre et nation

 | 
Jeffrey Hopes
, 
Héléne Lecossois

(Re)définitions du mythe de la nation

Moving Statues in Ireland: Theatre, Nation and Problems of Agency

Lionel Pilkington

Texte intégral

  • 1Phelan P., Unmarked: The Politics of Performance, London, Routledge, 1992, p. 13.

“Learning to see is training in careful blindness.” Peggy Phelan, Unmarked: The Politics of Performance1

  • 2 Mcclintock A., Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest, New York an (...)
  • 3 Brecht B., Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic, Willett J. (ed. and trans.), Lond (...)

1What theatres and nations have most in common conceptually are processes of sublimation and imaginative projection. A standard definition of nations—“systems of cultural representation whereby people come to imagine a shared experience of identification with an extended community”2—can be applied just as easily to the collective experience of theatre. Acts of empathetic imagination that are at the heart of theatre stimulate the formation and reproduction of any public, and especially that which Benedict Anderson famously described as the “imagined community” of the nation. But between theatre as an institution and the apparatus of the nation state there is a closer and more specific connection. Theatre encourages its spectators to delegate imaginative authority to the actor on stage, to project agency onto the actor’s presence, and to remain patiently in thrall of the unfolding action. So too does the nation state for whom the model citizen is expected to adopt the deferential role of a spectator: not riotously clambering on stage to take action herself, but rather delegating political authority to her parliamentary representative. As Bertolt Brecht observed in his advocacy of “bad acting”, what emerges in this still-dominant model of theatre is a dangerously etiolated conception of political agency and of theatrical pleasure.3 Instead of taking action as a matter of urgent ethical imperative, political action is conceived of as a performance that takes place elsewhere: an action relegated to authorized political representatives operating like actors on the stage of a national or trans-national parliament. To this degree, theatre and nation function as a vitally important ideological conjunction that normalizes the idea that what can be achieved politically in a society takes place through processes of representation. Traditionally understood, theatre and nation encourage people to become accustomed to other people acting on their behalf.

  • 4 Kruger L., The National Stage: Theatre and Cultural Legitimation in England, France, and America (...)
  • 5 Warner M., Publics and Counterpublics. New York, Zone Books, 2002, p. 56.

2A national theatre, then, is a site of political socialization and not only a place where plays are performed. National theatres work to support the state not just because of an assumed cultural prestige but because they testify to the dominance of an overarching representational authority. In addition to the performance of canonical dramatic narratives, national theatres are cultural sites dedicated to the exhibition of norms of agency. They testify to the apparently innate benevolence of consensus, suggest a unity that seems to transcend politics, and—not least—proclaim the idea that a representative parliamentary assembly is the only possible political entity. In Loren Kruger’s 1992 The National Stage: Theatre and Cultural Legitimation in England, France, and America, the representational reach of a national theatre is precisely the problem. In our widespread assumption of “a natural affiliation between theatre and public politics on a national scale”4 what is over-looked, Kruger complains, is not only the idea of theatre as a site of contestation, but the idea of competing, multiple and counter-public spheres. Kruger’s point is that the mutually reinforcing effect of the theatre and nation conjunction renders invisible the political and cultural activities of groups who are in opposition to the state and at odds with the norms of a dominant state-oriented nationalism. More recently the cultural theorist Michael Warner has described such groups as “counterpublics” that are “marked offfrom persons or citizens in general”5 and whose practices offer a rich source of alternative ways of thinking about political expression. In this short essay, I want to look at the relationship between theatre and counterpublics in the context of two moments in the state-oriented nationalism that dominates 20th century Ireland: the Irish literary revival of the 1890s and early 1900s, and the mid-1980s. Both moments are critical to the story of Ireland’s modernization. My particular concern is with what happens to the body—and especially women’s bodies—within the context of a national aesthetic dedicated to sublimation.

3A relatively unconsidered feature of Ireland’s national theatre movement in the early 20th century is its role in demonstrating modernity at the level of bodily movements. Indeed, one function of the naturalistic style of acting championed by the Fay brothers and for which the early Abbey became so famous is the way in which it manifests the physical intelligibility of Irish bodies in motion. For the Irish national theatre movement, this was an important unstated element of its overall project. It showed that Irish people conformed to conventions of decorous physical expression and that Irish actions could be seen as the clear result of understandable motives. This was in contrast to a dominant British perception of 19th century Irish customs and political culture as incomprehensible, with violent acts of anti-colonial insurgency regarded as far in excess of any rational political motivation. In contrast to the weird gesticulations of an ululating funeral keener, the straw-masked performances of a mummer, the grotesque and often crudely sexual and violent indecorousness of a wake game or the violent acts of rural insurgency groups like the whiteboys, acting in the institutional theatre rendered Irish behaviour somatically legible. At the fundamental level of body movements and gestures, this remains one of the enduring features of the Irish theatre. From the Abbey Theatre tours of the United States in the early 20th century to Riverdance today, Irish theatre demonstrates to audiences both in Ireland and internationally the extent to which the Irish body is pliable to recognisable norms of Western modernity.

  • 6 Mcclintock A., op. cit., p. 354.
  • 7 Luddy M., Prostitution and Irish Society 1800-1940, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2007, (...)
  • 8 Mcclintock A., op. cit., p. 359.

4Ireland’s post-colonial interest in a national theatre that exhibits Irish bodies behaving “normally” may also be detected in the anxiety that attends the representation of women’s bodies in many of the prominent dramatic narratives of the revival. In plays as different as Augusta Gregory and W. B. Yeats’s Cathleen ni Houlihan (1902) and J. M. Synge’s The Playboy of the Western World (1907) women’s bodies are either sublimated altogether (Cathleen’s transformation from old woman to offstage national deity, “a young girl with the walk of a queen”), or are viewed as so grotesquely threatening (Widow Quin, Widow Casey, Pegeen in Act 3 of The Playboy) that male heroism is presented as a matter of escaping from women altogether. If real women are often active participants in real national struggles it is also true that invigilating women’s bodies and developing systems for controlling and repressing women’s sexuality is a perennial aspect of a state-oriented nationalist political agenda. Regarded as boundary markers for the nation state and as biological reproducers of national purity, women’s bodies attract the supervisory and repressive attention of emergent nation states. As McClintock observes, “women are typically constructed as the symbolic bearers of the nation, but are denied any direct relation to national agency”.6 This was certainly the case in Ireland where, according to historian Maria Luddy, “the female body and the maternal body, particularly in its unmarried condition, became a central focus of concern to the state and the Catholic Church”.7 Here too we notice a coincidence between the operations of the theatre and the operations of the nation. In the same historical moment when the Irish state intervenes to curtail the scope of women’s involvement in the public sphere by means of legislation on divorce, jury participation and conditions of public service employment, Sean O’Casey’s The Shadow of a Gunman, The Plough and the Stars and Juno and the Paycock portray their female characters as locked down into the rigid stereotypes of their conventional representation. Within a postcolonial context in which issues of national integrity have considerable symbolic importance, then, the idea and institution of Ireland’s national theatre places what might be described as a double lock on women’s agency. As well as presenting political action as a matter of sublimation and deferral, women as the “atavistic and authentic body”8 of national tradition are shown as imprisoned within the disciplinary structures of their conventional representation.

5The contention of this essay is that the performative power of a statue moving, or of a statue-like body frozen in motion, manages to unfix—at least momentarily—the double lock that the idea of a national theatre places on taking action. A statue is something solid and rooted in one place and the idea of it moving defies ordinary logic. Statues are evoked and empiricism defied when an actor’s movements in live performance are arrested and paused in mid-action, as in tableaux vivants. This is not dissimilar to the bending of the laws of empiricism in the many 1985 testimonies that statues of the Virgin Mary could be seen to move. To this extent a moving statue—whether as an actress frozen in tableau or a stated belief in statues moving—compels a momentary historicization of the subject. What emerges also is an impression of the uncanny. Regarding a moving statue is rather like the experience of seeing a ghost: it is as if the body that is seen exists not just as itself but also outside and beside itself.

  • 9 Loftus B., Mirrors: William III and Mother Ireland, Belfast, Circa Publications, 1990, p. 62.

6Established in April 1900 and dedicated to an all-Ireland nationalist and anticolonial propaganda that gave prominence to heroic female characters, Inghinidhe na hÉireann (the Daughters of Ireland) was a nationalist political group that was all-female and feminist-leaning. Within the context of the literary and theatrical revival of the 1890s and early 1900s, therefore, Inghinidhe na hÉireann was both a familiar and an anomalous grouping. Its performances were openly propagandist, were designed to bridge sectarian and class differences and were staged at both theatrical and non-theatrical venues in rural and urban locations. Particular stress was placed on showing exemplary figures of female militancy taken from Irish mythology: figures such as Cathleen ni Houlihan, Maeve and Grania. According to art historian Belinda Loftus, the women that were presented in these pageants and tableaux were by no means “submissive, anglicized Erins” and, instead, tended to evoke the female republican liberty figures that had been paraded in Belfast during the 1798 centenary celebrations.9

  • 10 Morris C., Alice Milligan and the Irish Cultural Revival., PhD dissertation, Department of Engli (...)
  • 11 Pilkington L., “‘Every Crossing Sweeper thinks himself a moralist’: the critical role of audienc (...)
  • 12 Colum P. quoted in Morris C., “Becoming Irish? Alice Milligan and the Revival”, Irish University (...)

7Inghinidhe na hÉireann’s chief writer of pageants and of tableaux vivants was Alice Milligan for whom, as Catherine Morris writes, “there was no boundary between disseminating ideas and protest on streets and performing images from Irish history and culture on official stages”.10 Another example of Inghinidhe na hÉireann’s flouting of the conventions of traditional theatre was the first 1902 production of Cathleen ni Houlihan when Maud Gonne McBride, the actress who performed the play’s eponymous heroine, entered and exited the stage by walking to and from the street.11 Padraic Colum’s remark that Inghinidhe na hÉireann expressed a nationalism that was activist and that “had never been parliamentarian”12 reinforces this view of the group as unconformist, militant and experimental.

8What is interesting about Inghinidhe na hÉireann as far as this essay is concerned, however, is its characteristic performance style of tableaux vivants. Tableaux vivants, moving pictures or poses plastiques were a feature of amateur and commercial English-speaking theatre in the 19th century. In the commercial theatre, with which many urban audiences in Dublin would have been familiar, tableaux vivants often featured nude women displayed, Ingres-like, for the erotic gaze of the spectator. Inghinidhe na hÉireann adopted and subverted this tradition and presented groups of sometimes armed, militant women who looked out defiantly in the direction of the audience. Other tableaux consisted of a series of living pictures that portrayed the freeing of oppressed, shackled and downtrodden female figures. These sequences of arrested action were sometimes accompanied by offstage music and, in some cases, the spoken words of an invisible narrator.

  • 13 Morris C., op. cit., p. 45.

9Within the allegorical context of Ireland represented as a woman, these performances were designed as part of an explicitly nationalist agenda in which the woman’s body functioned as a vehicle for the nation. But with its all female troupe and its emphasis on women’s participation in the heroism of the anti-colonial struggle, there was another agenda at work. In Morris’s words, “Milligan’s tableaux freed Irish women from the realms of symbolic abstraction and rendered them as a dynamic presence rather than empty signifiers of republican virtue”.13 Moreover, the breaking up of the illusion of naturalistic embodiment that took place by way of the tableaux themselves offered an implicit critique of the severe restrictions placed on women within nationalist discourse. What I am interested in here is the way in which the impression of women’s bodies frozen in motion—of normal movements arrested—invokes a reflection on the ways in which the body is not so much a natural instrument of expression, but rather a malleable physical entity that is artificially produced according to available processes of representation. Crucially, therefore, the effect produced by Inghinidhe na hÉireann’s tableaux vivants is not sublimation or the voyeuristic effects of the commercial pose plastique but an effect similar to that of a body suspended, ghost-like, beside itself. The effect of Inghinidhe na hÉireann’s tableaux vivants was to generate a critique of nationalism and its restrictions.

10Apart from Catherine Morris’s extensive study, the performance methods of Inghinidhe na hÉireann’s tableaux vivants have received little critical attention. This is hardly surprising. The text-based analyses that dominate Irish theatre studies mean that small consideration is given to the ways in which the somatic features of theatrical performance impinge on our knowledge of a society’s collective repressions, disciplines and desires. What is being argued in this essay, however, is that the tableaux vivants performed by Inghinidhe na hÉireann held the potential to expose something of the gendering of the female body within nationalism. To repeat, they achieved this effect so not so much by invoking images of female enslavement as by freezing the performing body in time. The bodies of the actresses arrested their ordinary movements and appeared like statues: not natural, but fabricated like a work of art. In this way, the contingencies by which the body was fixed and immobilized in history were revealed to the spectator. Movements that are regarded as natural and fluent appear unnaturally fixed, like postures sculpted according to the conventions of a particular historical moment, aesthetic genre or epoch. To this extent, what Inghinidhe na hÉireann’s tableaux vivants managed to induce in its audiences was a kind of anti-spectatorship: that is, they encouraged a new way of seeing in which the act of seeing itself became a subject of interest.

  • 14 Tóibín C. (ed.), Seeing is Believing: Moving Statues in Ireland, Dublin, Pilgrim Press, 1985, p. (...)
  • 15 Irish Times, 6 August 1985, p. 5.

11Another disruption of the double lock that the ideology of a national theatre places on women’s agency is that achieved by the extraordinary phenomenon that took place in Ireland in 1985 in which there occurred a series of mass testimonies claiming that real statues of the Virgin Mary had been seen to move, beckon, change gender and, in a few later cases, shed tears, bleed and speak. The claimed occurrences took place at 33 sites (located mainly in the south and west of the country) between February and September of 1985. Widely reported in local, national and international news media, the most famous of these phenomena took place at the village of Ballinspittle in County Cork when, in mid-July, two young women on an evening stroll saw a roadside statue of the Virgin Mary move. Within days and with extensive corroboration from a wide variety of witnesses, the “moving statue” of Ballinaspittle became a national phenomenon. Nightly crowds, sometimes amounting to 10,000 spectators (or “seers”) were arranged by an ad-hoc committee of local stewards in a huge amphitheatre-like field opposite the grotto. Accounts of what happened vary: for some, the movement of the 5'8 " statue was merely a slight swaying of the head and hands while for others its transformations (which always took place at night and usually after 10 pm) were far more dramatic with one journalist claiming that he saw the hands of the statue move suddenly to the side of its face as if it had received a blow.14 Almost immediately, the “real” nature of what happened at Ballinaspittle was the subject of repeated and vigorous challenge. Five staff members of the Department of Applied Psychology at University College Cork, allegedly commissioned by the local Catholic hierarchy, claimed that the statue’s movements were the results of a simple optical illusion caused by a combination of movement, fading evening light and the bright lights surrounding the head of the statue.15 Other commentators regarded the huge gatherings as a reactionary expression of Roman Catholic religious hysteria. Generally speaking and despite the extensiveness of the phenomena or the huge number of people whom it affected, Irish cultural and social history tends either to elide moving statues altogether or else render them as an amusing and slightly embarrassing reminder of Ireland’s tardy modernisation.

  • 16 Kemmy J., quoted in Ryan T. and Kirakowski J., Ballinspittle: Moving Statues and Faith, Cork, Me (...)
  • 17 Prendagast P., Cork Examiner, 12 Sept. 1985, p. 3.
  • 18 Clare A., The Irish Press, 27 August 1985, p. 9.
  • 19 Ibid.

12Contemporary 1985 coverage of the moving statue phenomenon includes newspaper reports and three books on the topic: Colm Tóibín’s edited volume Seeing is Believing: Moving Statues in Ireland, Tim Ryan and Jurek Kirakowski’s Ballinspittle: Moving Statues and Faith and Nell McCafferty’s A Woman to Blame. As to the possible social and political implications of moving statues: the only “move” that most commentators could detect was retrogressive. Thus, the Limerick-based Labour Party politician Jim Kemmy, referred to moving statues as “a turning away from reality” and “third world hallucinations”16 while the government press secretary Peter Prendagast famously remarked that “three quarters of the country is laughing heartily at Ballinspittle”.17 For psychiatrist Professor Anthony Clare writing in the Irish Press, moving statues constituted a symptom of collective hysteria: if statues “moved” in Ireland, it was because of autosuggestion or self-hypnosis prompted by a desire to retreat, infant-like, from a modern, complex and changing world. In Clare’s words, the occurrences at Ballinspittle showed “an intense need for a more simple, even infantile model of religious beliefs” and, he concluded, there was something “demeaning” in the spectacle of people waiting for a statue to move.18 So many people reading so much significance into such banal events—statues moving their limbs, eyes, their clothes, suggests a very deep need for simple reassurance:19

  • 20 Ibid.

“The flight to Ballinspittle”, summarised the religious correspondent in the Irish Press, “is a flight from self-reliance; an exercise in unwillingness—an unwillingness to face our problems and work out our own solutions… it points to a dreadful loss of nerve.”20

  • 21 Mccafferty N., A Woman to Blame, Dublin, Attic Press, 1985, p. 53.
  • 22 –See Ferriter D., Occasions of Sin: Sex and Society in Modern Ireland, London, Profile Books, 2009 (...)

13But this contemporary commentary also reveals a persistent recognition of a close connection between recent events in the mid-1980s involving Irish law and its particular implications for women’s bodies and reproductive rights. For Clare, as also for journalists Fintan O’Toole and Nell McCafferty, the causes of the “hysteria” lay in the economic depression of the country, the conflict in Northern Ireland and a series of horrific events involving single mothers and dead babies that had occurred in the previous year. As McCafferty put it, “for Irish Catholics [1985] has been a year of public weal and sexual trauma that ended in superstitious prostration before the woman who got away—the only earthling ever to have an Immaculate Conception”.21 Perhaps the most important context for the 1985 moving statue phenomenon was the 1982-1983 campaign to insert an amendment into the Irish constitution in order to copper-fasten the country’s already-existing constitutional ban on abortion. The wording of the amendment was designed to establish an absolute ban on abortion in Ireland: “the state acknowledges the right to life of the unborn and, with due regard to the equal right of the life of the mother, guarantees in its laws to respect, and, as far as practicable, by its laws to defend and vindicate that right”. In the subsequent referendum, the amendment was endorsed by 66.4% of the 55.6% of the electorate that voted. As the historian Diarmaid Ferriter points out, the campaign was one of the most divisive events in Irish political and social history and was described at the time as “the second partitioning of Ireland” and as a “moral civil war”.22

14But there were other, related and horrific events that pressed more closely on this exceptional and apparently bizarre moving statue phenomenon. On 30 January 1984, a 15 year-girl, Anne Lovett, was found dead along with her dead baby lying in front of a grotto of the Virgin Mary at Granard, Co. Longford; then, less than three months later, on 14 April 1984, a bag containing a newly-born baby with its neck broken and 24 stab wounds was found washed up on a beach at Cahirciveen in County Kerry. The subsequent police (Garda) investigation resulted in the arrest of a young single mother, Joanne Hayes, who herself had given birth to a baby who had died (of natural causes) and was buried on her farm. She was falsely accused of the crime after signing a confession that had been extracted by a team of Garda detectives known as the “heavy gang”. As soon as Joanne was released from Garda custody, she withdrew her confession and directed police to the site on the farm where her own child was buried. But the Gardaí did not regard this terrible revelation as an exoneration, and went on to claim that, according to the theory of superfecundation, Joanne Hayes might have given birth to twins after having been impregnated by separate men within a short space of time. However, in October of the same year and amidst considerable public controversy, charges were dropped against Joanne Hayes. Because of the public outcry at the horrific nature of the revelations and the manner in which the police treated Joanne Hayes and her family, the government established a tribunal of enquiry.

15This tribunal, known as the Kerry Babies Tribunal, began its hearings in December 1984 in Tralee, County Kerry and continued into the months of January and February 1984. Despite the tribunal being established to examine Garda mistreatment of the Hayes family, most of its time was spent raking over the evidence against Joanne Hayes herself even to the point of reinvigorating the theory of superfecundation. The behaviour of the tribunal judge (Kevin Lynch) and of the solicitors representing the Gardaí was persecutory: there was detailed and protracted questioning concerning Joanne’s sexual history as well as persistent interrogation concerning the manner in which Joanne gave birth to her dead baby on the farm and the way in which she had concealed the body of the baby in a hole in the ground.

  • 23 Mccafferty, op. cit., p. 95.

16In early 1985 the tribunal was a much-publicized event with local and national newspapers offering daily front-page reports. Towards the end of January several newspapers reported an incident in which Joanne Hayes started to collapse in the courtroom and, after she was finally excused by the presiding judge, was found vomiting, hyperventilating and shaking in a corridor. Although sedated by a doctor, the presiding Judge insisted that she continue to give evidence with the result that she spoke in a slurred voice “at times with her eyes closed, her head propped against the microphone”.23 Following this incident, a group of local people protested outside the courthouse and there developed an escalating reaction of support for Joanne Hayes from women’s groups and individual women throughout the country.

  • 24 –See The Kerryman, 1 March 1985.

17It was at this point—a point at which the inquisitorial character of the tribunal had become most conspicuous and an object of national public protest in Ireland—that the first moving statue was reported. Three schoolchildren claimed that they saw a movement from the statue of the Sacred Heart in the church in Asdee, County Kerry. Within hours, this sighting was ratified by the claims of other schoolchildren and then by some local adults. By 1st March—two weeks later—10,000 people had visited the statue at Asdee.24 By October there had been 33 sightings of alleged moving statues in various locations across Ireland including, as described above, the most famous moving statue occurrence at Ballinspittle in County Cork.

18Apparitions and moving statues are a well-known feature of Ireland’s cultural repertoire. Nevertheless what took place between February and October 1985 is unprecedented both in terms of its scale and in terms of the speed and degree of popular ratification of these events as “real”. As well as projecting images of suffering and vulnerability (the statues typically quaked and shivered), the most important aspect of the moving statue phenomenon was the moving itself.

  • 25 Mccafferty, op. cit., p. 127.

19Many reasons were given for the claims that statues moved, a great many of which expressed themselves in terms of religious faith and a belief in a counter-vailing spiritual power. Nevertheless and notwithstanding the integrity of such rationalizations, what is interesting for the cultural historian of performance is that the moving statue phenomenon also operates at its most basic level as a contradiction of sight as an objective and empirical act and of its corollary: the overarching power of perspective. What had been demonstrated in the case of the Kerry Babies Tribunal was the way in which the state and its legal apparatus operated by means of an inquisitorial use of perspective. In the words of the journalist Nell McCafferty, “the perfect opportunity had been found to pin the woman under the microscope and have a good look at her”.25 Within this context the claim of movement in what is indubitably a constructed, fixed and immovable statue affirms a vibrant transformative power that is located in a very different and ethically-motivated kind of spectatorship. As the vast number of claimed sightings suggest, this is a transformative spectatorship that can be evoked by anybody (typically by the vulnerable and marginalized) at any time or place, and which sets itself radically at odds with a dominant form of politics and legislation that claims both the authority of the state and (in this instance) religious hierarchy. Taking place in front of a large body of spectators or “seers”, the moving statue phenomenon confounds the normal logic of spectatorship and perspective by demonstrating the power of that which is local and contingent to assert a set of countervailing ethical and moral values. Claims that statues moved functioned, at least in part, to express the moral conscience of a society at a time when the national institutions for ordering morality and justice in Ireland had been exposed as heartless and dysfunctional.

20This essay has discussed two forms of moving statue performance in the context of the norms of agency and spectatorship that seem to be set in stone (as it were) by theatre and nation and by the representational aesthetics of a national theatre. The tableaux vivants of Inghinnidhe na hÉireann and the moving statue phenomenon that abounded in Ireland during the spring and summer of 1985 are radically different cultural phenomena. What they have in common, however, is that both refuse an aesthetic of sublimation. This refusal is evident in two ways: firstly, through a defiance of the idea of action as something that is delegated to a political elite elsewhere and, secondly, by defamiliarizing the act of spectatorship itself. With Inghinidhe na hÉireann’s tableaux vivants the freezing of postures encourages the spectator to rethink the category of the natural by looking at real bodies as if they were factitious and by relating this to the way in which gender is constructed within nationalism. With the mass claims in 1985 that statues of the Virgin Mary were seen to move, defying the link between spectatorship and objectivity becomes—at least momentarily—a way of expressing a defiance of the nation state’s monopoly of the apparatuses of justice and morality.

Bibliographie

Bibliography

Brecht B., Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic, Willett J. (ed. and trans.), London, Methuen, 1978.

Kruger L., The National Stage: Theatre and Cultural Legitimation in England, France, and America, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1992.

Ferriter D., Occasions of Sin: Sex and Society in Modern Ireland, London, Profile Books, 2009.

Loftus B., Mirrors: William III and Mother Ireland, Belfast, Circa Publications, 1990.

Luddy M., Prostitution and Irish Society 1800-1940, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2007.

Mccafferty N., A Woman to Blame, Dublin, Attic Press, 1985.

Mcclintock A., Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest, New York and London, Routledge, 1995.

Morris C., Alice Milligan and the Irish Cultural Revival, PhD dissertation, Department of English, University of Aberdeen, 1999. [Also book manuscript under consideration by Four Courts Press, Dublin.]

Morris C., “Becoming Irish? Alice Milligan and the Revival”, Irish University Review 33.1 Spring-Summer 2003, p. 79-98.

Phelan P., Unmarked: the Politics of Performance, London, Routledge, 1992.

Pilkington L., “‘Every Crossing Sweeper thinks himself a moralist’: the critical role of audiences in Irish theatrical history”, Irish University Review 27.1, 1997, p. 152-165.

Ryan T. and Kirakowski J., Ballinspittle: Moving Statues and Faith, Cork, Mercier Press, 1985.

Tóibín C. (ed.), Seeing is Believing: Moving Statues in Ireland, Dublin, Pilgrim Press, 1985.

Warner M., Publics and Counterpublics, New York, Zone Books, 2002.

Notes

1Phelan P., Unmarked: The Politics of Performance, London, Routledge, 1992, p. 13.

2 Mcclintock A., Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest, New York and London, Routledge, 1995, p. 353.

3 Brecht B., Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic, Willett J. (ed. and trans.), London, Methuen, 1978, p. 187.

4 Kruger L., The National Stage: Theatre and Cultural Legitimation in England, France, and America, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1992, p. 6.

5 Warner M., Publics and Counterpublics. New York, Zone Books, 2002, p. 56.

6 Mcclintock A., op. cit., p. 354.

7 Luddy M., Prostitution and Irish Society 1800-1940, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2007, p. 194.

8 Mcclintock A., op. cit., p. 359.

9 Loftus B., Mirrors: William III and Mother Ireland, Belfast, Circa Publications, 1990, p. 62.

10 Morris C., Alice Milligan and the Irish Cultural Revival., PhD dissertation, Department of English, University of Aberdeen, 1999, p. 60.

11 Pilkington L., “‘Every Crossing Sweeper thinks himself a moralist’: the critical role of audiences in Irish theatrical history”, Irish University Review, 27.1, 1997, p. 164-165.

12 Colum P. quoted in Morris C., “Becoming Irish? Alice Milligan and the Revival”, Irish University Review, 33.1, Spring-Summer 2003, p. 81.

13 Morris C., op. cit., p. 45.

14 Tóibín C. (ed.), Seeing is Believing: Moving Statues in Ireland, Dublin, Pilgrim Press, 1985, p. 40.

15 Irish Times, 6 August 1985, p. 5.

16 Kemmy J., quoted in Ryan T. and Kirakowski J., Ballinspittle: Moving Statues and Faith, Cork, Mercier Press, 1985, p. 36.

17 Prendagast P., Cork Examiner, 12 Sept. 1985, p. 3.

18 Clare A., The Irish Press, 27 August 1985, p. 9.

19 Ibid.

20 Ibid.

21 Mccafferty N., A Woman to Blame, Dublin, Attic Press, 1985, p. 53.

22 –See Ferriter D., Occasions of Sin: Sex and Society in Modern Ireland, London, Profile Books, 2009, p. 467-470.

23 Mccafferty, op. cit., p. 95.

24 –See The Kerryman, 1 March 1985.

25 Mccafferty, op. cit., p. 127.

Auteur

Is a senior lecturer in English at the National University of Ireland Galway. He is the author of Theatre and the State in 20th Century Ireland : Cultivating the People (London and New York, Routledge, 2001) and Theatre & Ireland (London, Palgrave MacMillan, 2010).

© Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2011

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