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James Moorhead 2003
In the Celtic ballad tradition, the worlds of oral and
literary culture are intertwined in a complex and fascinating relationship.
Early twentieth century scholars debated the true origins of popular
ballads, over whether they began as individual compositions or as
musical stories that emerged from a collective folk culture. Although
we will probably never be able to prove a definitive answer to this
question, popular ballads seem to be oral in their origins while
influenced by a symbiotic relationship to literary culture. We can
trace the origins of ballads back several centuries, due primarily
to the work of Francis Child, who recorded hundreds of popular ballads
from folk at the end of the nineteenth century. His collection of
written music became known as the “Child ballads.” In
the 1950’s, ethnomusicologist Alan Lomax made seminal sound
field-recordings of these ballads that had survived generations
of oral transmission, providing a recorded archive for the Child
ballads as a living tradition. Over time, the influences that oral
culture and literary culture have had in the preservation of the
ballad tradition have changed. While farmers, tinkers, and working
people often learned ballads through a rite of storytelling, many
scholars knew of the ballads only as a form of written poetry towards
the end of the nineteenth century.
In many of the Child ballads such as “The Unquiet Grave”,
elements of the supernatural pervade throughout the story. Frequent
references to ghosts and magicians occur. Child Ballads that abound
with the supernatural have a common origin in the eighteenth century,
whereas earlier balladic references to the supernatural were limited
to Satan or to elves. My project seeks to illuminate what elements
of literary and oral culture influenced the fascination with the
supernatural that appears in the eighteenth century Child ballads.
In turn, I hope to shed light on the general origins of the Child
ballads, as well. Perhaps I will find that the nature of oral storytelling
lends itself more to fantastical references than literature does
at the time. I might find that literature of the eighteenth century
is actually a greater source of supernatural motifs influencing
the Child ballads. As a folk tradition, a point of interest might
be whether or not the oral keepers of the tradition believed in
the supernatural motifs of their stories, and whether present participants
of the folk tradition accept the same motifs as truth.
I plan to research issues of folklore surrounding this question
with the abundant resources of the Folklore Society Library of the
Warburg Institute, London. The Folklore Institute also maintains
a rich archival collection at University College, London. I also
plan to take advantage of the large collection of ballads, criticism,
and ballad literature at the School of Celtic and Scottish Studies,
University of Edinburgh. Aside from literary research, the oral
nature of the ballad tradition calls for a look at how the performance
of singing ballads continues as a living tradition today. Many families,
especially in rural areas, continue to pass down the ballad tradition
through each generation. As a result of the folk revival of the
1960’s, others have pursued the singing of ballads out of
interest or cultural pride. Thus, we see a time at hand when it
becomes difficult to distinguish the impact of oral culture from
that of literary culture in the preservation of this tradition.
By observing how the performance of ballads continues in taverns,
in homes, in festivals, and perhaps on tinker campgrounds, I hope
to gain insight into the current roles that oral and literary culture
play in preserving the tradition. Aside from recording these performances
with a high-quality, portable mini-disc recorder, I hope to interview
performers on their personal experiences as participants in the
ballad tradition. By focusing on the performance of ballads that
reference the supernatural, I hope to gain insight into the oral
and literary elements that influenced this fascination of the eighteenth
century. Moreover, I hope to compare any variants of ballads in
my recordings to those made by Alan Lomax.
I have been in contact with the Folklore Society and the University
of Edinburgh, institutions that have been helpful in directing me
to specific taverns, rural areas, and families that would be willing
to share their traditions. One such area of focus is Aberdeen, home
to many such as the Ritchies and Robertsons, families that continue
the ballad tradition with new generations of performers. I also
plan to attend the Festival of Traditional Singing held at the University
of Aberdeen from July 25 to 27. In addition, I will observe Saturday
night “ceilidhs” hosted by the University of Aberdeen,
parties where locals perform ballads and other folk traditions.
While this aspect of my research is ethnographic, I feel that the
observation and analysis of ballads as they are performed now is
essential to understanding ballads as both a living and literary
tradition. By observing and interviewing present-day performers,
I hope to shed light on the relationship between oral and literary
influences of the past. Specifically, I hope to gain a better understanding
of these influences as they pertain to the eighteenth century balladic
fascination with the supernatural.
As a double major in English and music, I feel that I have a sufficient
background to pursue such a topic of interdisciplinary nature. Professor
Timothy Taylor, the Celtic expert of the music department, has assisted
me in part in understanding the musical aspects of my project. Having
taken a course in ethnomusicology, I feel prepared for the ethnographic
aspects of my research.
Melanie Micir 2002
James Joyce's complex relationship with his native Ireland remains
a crucial subject of study for scholars of literature and nation.
Joyce's often contradictory responses to Ireland and Irish culture
range from "affectionate tolerance to impassioned repudiation,"
(1) from sarcastic critique to sincere appreciation. Writing much
of his work in exile, Joyce maintained a careful distance from Ireland
- and from the politics of separatist Irish nationalism, which he
disdained - for much of his life. Despite this geographical separation,
however, his personal preoccupation with Irish culture could hardly
be more apparent, and Joyce himself, once dismissed in Ireland as
an obscene, obscure exile, has become an iconic figure of Irish literature
and culture throughout the world.
My project will examine historical reactions to the celebration of
Bloomsday in order to trace the connection between Joyce's growing
literary celebrity and Irish national culture. (2) Bloomsday explodes
in Dublin on June 16th of each year (3), but the meaning of the celebration
varies, depending on whom you consult. The literary faithful gather
for readings, conferences, tours of the Dublin depicted in Ulysses,
and enthusiastic pub conversations. Yet even as the Joyce industry
booms, Bloomsday increasingly appears to celebrate and commodify Irishness
in general, as much of the population celebrates a national ideal
of "James Joyce" detached from his writing. Richard Ellman
writes, in his biography of Joyce, that "the demands of his country
for national feeling he was prepared to meet, but in his own way.
. . . For the moment, his most basic decision was in favor of art's
precedence over every other human activity. The nation might profit
or not from his experiment, as it chose." (4) I think it's safe
to say that the nation does profit, every year, in the revenue and
publicity produced by Joyce's holiday, which satisfies the demands
for "national feeling" that Ulysses, on its own, could not.
How did Ireland, the last nation to lift the ban on Ulysses, come
to appreciate its most celebrated exile, and to promote his virtual
Dublin as a tourist attraction? How has Bloomsday, a celebration inspired
by a highly critical and difficult modernist text, developed into
what is largely a celebration of Irish culture? How, in turn, is contemporary
Irish culture informed by the legacy of Ulysses? During the course
of this summer's research on Bloomsday, I hope to illuminate the connection
between James Joyce's literary celebrity and the development of Irish
national identity.
Notes
1. Emer Nolan, James Joyce and Nationalism (London: Routledge, 1995),
xi.
2. In my research, I will use newspaper, magazine, and journal articles
(from both academic and popular perspectives), anecdotal support from
the scholars, publishers, and politicians who witnessed the gradual
reversal of Joyce's status within Ireland, Joyce and Bloomsday memorabilia,
and Dublin city records to trace the evolution of Bloomsday.
3. Ulysses takes place on June 16, 1904. Although I am concerned solely
with the Dublin celebration, Joyceans celebrate Bloomsday around the
world.
4. Richard Ellman, James Joyce (New York: Oxford University Press,
1965), 68.
Patrick W. Pearsall 2001
Words such as truth, reconciliation, and memory dominate the study
of Human Rights. The language of rights helps give history a voice,
and no city in the 20th century spoke with as many different voices
as Berlin. It spoke to the future as a city of empire, a city of atrocity,
a city of reconciliation, a city of guilt, a city of fracture, and
finally as a city seeking to define itself as a dynamic capital for
the new unified Europe. As Berlin grows, it remains stunted by its
past. World War I, World War II, and the Cold War occupy the center
of Western experience during the last hundred years, providing Berlin
with a powerful position as one of history’s foremost language
givers. The city’s monuments, erected to memorialize the past,
provide traces of the specific language that Berlin sought to leave
for the world’s future.
My project will examine and draw conclusions from inscriptions on
the monuments and memorials of Berlin. I will not read the text on
these memorials and monuments solely within an historical or political
frame, but rather as texts that provide insight into the evolving
vocabulary of human rights. My thesis endeavors to illuminate the
shifts that a vocabulary undergoes when concerned specifically with
memorialized retribution and forgiveness. The paper will trace the
course of Berlin’s self-referential dialogue as it underwent
several important changes in voice and identity in an attempt to conform
with and define the ‘universal’ vocabulary of human rights.
Through an exploration of these shifts, the paper may show that reforming
violators are among the first to adopt the ‘universal’
rhetoric of human rights and thereby claim increased authority over
the dialogue’s vocabulary and future usage. The project seeks
to identify the moments where textual innovations occur, and how these
are vital to understanding the trajectory and influence of post-World
War II human rights language. The repetitive pattern of adoption and
adaptation by violators may show human rights rhetoric as simultaneously
vulnerable to subversion yet effective in proliferation. Finally,
the project will relate this dualism of the ‘universal’
vocabulary as integral in the formation of future human rights discourses.
Memorials and monuments are often the purview of historians or sociologists.
However, these academic disciplines frequently neglect to analyze
the texts of memorials. As we move with greater speed toward a global
ethos that holds human rights as a worthy pursuit with practical utility,
Berlin, so vocal in the rights dialogue of the last century, continues
to speak at the forefront of global discussion. Berlin self-conceptualizes
the past through its memorials and monuments. I hypothesize that the
texts of these structures, erected for public memory, function as
a historical lexicon for human rights vocabulary, and that they may
serve as a platform for the language’s future. Berlin, guilty
of past atrocities, struggles to accept the language of modern rights
rhetoric and thereby establish its usage as worthy to the dialogue
of its memory. In the human rights dialogue of the post-World War
II period, Berlin sits as both the accused and the adjudicator.
Studying in Berlin will give me the necessary access to the fundamental
sources of rights language. By performing close textual analysis of
Berlin’s memorials as they progress from 1918-1945 and then
from the aftermath of World War II to the start of the 21st century,
I hope to find evidence to support a claim that the vocabulary of
human rights indeed requires a grounding in ‘universal’
principles, yet often manifests rhetoric with tremendous mobility.
The expression of these principles in a standardized vocabulary must
leave room for further evolution if the language of human rights is
to exert the same profound force over the next fifty years that it
had over the last half century.
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