[there follows a rough draft of what was to be a chapter in my work-in-progress, now deleted. I’m publishing it here in case it’s of interest to anyone. Click to enlarge image.
The action, as it were, takes place in the mid-12th century.]

Nesta’s Relentless Brood

What Dermot may have had in mind, and indeed what he may have discussed with his friend Robert FitzHarding, was the solution arrived at in Scotland when modernisers under Malcolm Canmore’s sons won out with help from Norman England. Not only did they employ the military prowess of the Normans, but invited them to settle in the southern half of the country, and with their help, King David had established a stable Scottish dynasty.¹

Another model with which Dermot would have been familiar was the relative co-existence of the Welsh Princes and the Norman Marcher barons, independent but giving fealty to Henry II. Aware as he was of the economic price of war, it is thought that Henry was conducive to the idea of a commonwealth with its economic benefits and with himself at its head – the forerunner, one might say, of the British Commonwealth.

Whatever Dermot’s other plans, he had to find Henry, and Henry was busy in his French dominions. MacMurrough had set out from Ireland in August; he stayed with FitzHarding until late autumn and caught up with Henry in Aquitaine, the Duchy of his estranged wife, Eleanor, in the New Year of 1167.

He swore fealty as his liegeman.

The term ‘liegeman’ meant that Dermot had sworn to become Henry’s vassal, with feudal obligations of fidelity in a military, political and social sense to Henry as his lord. This also meant that Henry was obliged to come to his aid in time of danger, but for the moment, at least, Dermot only received permission to approach any of Henry’s liegemen – his vassals — for support. It was the first and last time he laid eyes on the English King.

Dermot may have been disappointed that he did not receive Henry’s direct involvement, but he returned to Bristol and FitzHarding. Initially he had difficulty inspiring any interest in his venture, despite Henry’s endorsement. Eventually, probably on the recommendation of FitzHarding, he crossed the Severn to South Wales, where he met one Richard FitzGilbert de Clare, known to history as Strongbow.

Strongbow had backed the wrong contender for the English throne, and Henry deprived him of the earldom of Pembroke when he came to power. He was at this time a widower, in his mid-fifties, and open to redeeming his fortunes, but he drove a hard bargain which was not sealed until Dermot offered his young daughter Aoife in marriage, which meant, in Strongbow’s eyes at least, that he would inherit the province of Leinster on Dermot’s death. That this was impossible under Irish law, other than by force, was evidently not discussed.

MacMurrough’s next stop was the court of the man recognized by the Welsh as their king, Rhys ap Gruffyd — son, as his name suggests, of the long-lived Gruffydd ap Cynan, who, according to one biography, had two Irish half-brothers who were kings of the Ulaid, but had otherwise strong connections with the O’Briens. So he was a distant kinsman of Dermot.

Rhys was the nephew of perhaps the most remarkable woman of Welsh history, the prodigious Nesta, daughter of King Rhys ap Tewdwr, and mother and grandmother of several of the eventual invaders of Ireland, essentially making it a Welsh-Norman, or Cambro-Norman, invasion.

Her first marriage was to Gerald of Windsor, by whom she had one daughter, Angharrat, and three sons, William, Maurice, and David FitzGerald, fitz being a corruption of the French fils, meaning son. She and her children were abducted, possibly with her connivance, by a Welsh chieftain, afterwards killed by her husband in a skirmish. Later she had three more children, before being held as hostage by Henry I. She became his mistress, giving him a son, the first of the FitzHenrys, who in turn fathered Meiler and Robert FitzHenry, who were both to join Dermot’s forces. Another grandson who joined the adventure was Raymond le Gros, founder of the Redmond family in Ireland. Her son by her second marriage to the Constable of Cardigan was Robert FitzStephen.²

It was this Robert FitzStephen, cousin and captive of Rhys ap Gruffyd, that Dermot wanted to meet. Rhys had imprisoned him because of his loyalty to Henry II, and now the bargain was that he would release him if he joined Dermot’s expedition. He agreed.

The first group to accompany Dermot in August 1167 was a small group of Welsh, Flemings and Normans, under Richard FitzGodebert de la Roche.³

So began what can best be described as a dance of wits between Dermot, the High King and O’Rourke. Dermot’s first stratagem was to disappear into the Augustinian cloister in Ferns until the following Spring. How the international force which had accompanied him fared, or what they made of this, we don’t know. Neither do we know how this initial expedition was funded, and indeed the delay of a full expedition was most likely due to financial difficulties.

As soon as Dermot emerged from the cloister, word reached O’Connor, and Dermot submitted to overwhelming force again – although O’Rourke’s men broke ranks and attacked Dermot’s lines, killing 200, including the son of the Welsh king.⁴ But a settlement was made, hostages were given, and O’Rourke had the satisfaction of seeing O’Connor finally compelling MacMurrough to pay him 100 ounces of gold for his loss of face at Dervogilla’s abduction. Once again they returned to the west.

The Annals mention a very curious incident which occurred soon after Dermot’s return. Ua Dhuibhne, of the Cenél nEoghain — that is, of the late King Muirchertach MacLochlainn’s people — is described as a gillie, or servant of Donnchadh Ua Cerbhaill, ruler of Airgailla. It is hard to escape the suspicion that Ua Dhuibhne was taken as a slave after MacLochlain’s downfall. In any event, on finding the king drunk, he took advantage of the fact and killed him with a battle-axe, the favourite weapon of the Irish soldier.⁵

Meanwhile, Dermot discovered that his son Énna, kept as a hostage by Ossory, had been blinded on news of his return. Naturally enraged, he sent his secretary Maurice Regan to Wales to hasten reinforcements.
Robert FitzStephen and Maurice FitzGerald eventually solved their financial problems with loans from Josce, a Jewish financier in Gloucester, and a significant force under Robert FitzStephen arrived in Bannow Bay, south Wexford, in 1169. FitzStephen was the uncle of the historian of the invasion, Gerald de Barri, better known as Gerald Cambrensis, whose brother Robert was the first of the Barrys in Ireland. They were joined the next day by Maurice de Prendergast, a Pembrokeshire Fleming who brought two ship-loads of men-at-arms, and most significantly, archers. They took Wexford town and MacMurrough granted it to FitzStephen and his half-brother Maurice FitzGerald.⁶

Once again the dance with O’Connor began, but this time, seeing the formidable Norman force behind MacMurrough, O’Connor decided to negotiate. The intermediary was the Wexford prelate Joseph Ua hÁeda.⁷ In the event, MacMurrough made another submission, and in return O’Connor allowed him the kingship of Leinster, on the condition that he send back his mercenaries once it had been secured. He even offered his daughter in marriage should he stick to the bargain, despite the fact that Dermot was already married – yet another instance of how women were used in politics. MacMurrough agreed, probably in bad faith, but fatefully, O’Connor took MacMurrough’s youngest son, Conchbhar, his grandson Domhnaill, and the son of his belovéd foster brother, as hostages.⁸

Dermot had regained his kingdom, but the Normans kept coming. Raymond Le Gros, the founder of the Redmond family in Ireland, arrived in May 1170 at Baginbun, Co Wexford. Then, at last, the main driving force of the invasion, and the man to whom MacMurrough had made the most significant promise, arrived in August 1170, with as many as 200 knights and a thousand troops. They took Waterford, and Strongbow married MacMurrough’s teenage daughter, Aoife, or Eva, in the city, and as they had agreed, became heir to Leinster.
Like FitzStephen and Maurice Fitzgerald, Strongbow had raised the money for this substantial expedition with Josce of Gloucester.⁹ Henry was furious. Josce had already been fined £5 by the sheriff of his county for having lent money to those who against the King’s prohibition went over to Ireland.¹⁰ The prohibition was odd, given Henry’s promise to Dermot.

It was only a matter of time before they took Dublin and alarmed O’Connor into another confrontation. He marched to Dublin and besieged them for two months before the Normans took the Irish by surprise and routed them. It is thought that O’Connor was bathing in the Liffey when the attack came.

Within months, practically the eastern half of Ireland was in Norman hands. Dermot was on the verge of supremacy, or so he must have thought, but one last tragedy awaited him. O’Connor had his hostages killed — Dermot’s son, grandson, and his foster brother O’Kelly’s son – and delivered to him. He left the field and retired to Ferns, and died a few months later in May 1171. He was 61.

Henry II had a superb spy network,¹¹ but in this instance it was probably superfluous. However he heard about it, he came to Ireland to curb his barons, particularly Strongbow, and received submission from the Irish kings and chiefs wherever his route took him. This wasn’t as significant as it seems; it was par for the course wherever a stronger king was present, be he Irish or foreign.

What was significant was the clash and mutual incomprehension of cultures. As we have seen with Rory O’Connor and Dermot MacMurrough, an Irish king conquered and then withdrew once he had submission and hostages to ensure the submission, plus whatever plunder, usually cattle, possibly slaves, they could bring with them. The Normans, on the other hand, consolidated their gains, largely by building castles, and later towns.

Rory O’Connor did not submit, but in 1175, he agreed the treaty of Windsor with Henry, wherein O’Connor was recognized as King of all Ireland except Leinster, Meath and the city and hinterland of Waterford. In return he was to collect a tribute of every tenth merchantable hide from slaughtered beasts, and to compel any Irish who had abandoned the annexed areas to return and pay tribute, or give their services in return for the use of lands. The mediator was MacMurrough’s brother-in-law, Archbishop Lawrence O’Toole.¹²

Within a few years, the Normans had broken the bargain. In despair, his own people against him, Rory retired to Cong Abbey in 1183¹³ and died in 1198¹⁴ O’Rourke was already dead, treacherously killed by the Norman baron de Lacey and one of his own kinsman during a parley. He was beheaded, his head raised over the entrance to the fort of Dublin, his body hung upside down nearby.¹⁵

Thus began the long involvement of the English crown in Ireland.

1. W.L. Warren, The Interpretation of Twelfth-century Irish History, Historical Studies VII, ed J.C. Beckett, London, Routledge & Keegan Paul, 1969, p9.
2. Nicholas Furlong, Diarmait, King of Leinster, 115/116
3. Richard Roche, The Norman Invasion of Ireland, pp100/101. Because his family castle in Pembrokeshire was built on a rock, they took the name de la Roche, from the French word for rock.
4. Furlong, Diarmait, King of Leinster, p121
5. Annals of Ulster, 1168; Annals of the Four Masters, 1168
6. Seán Duffy, The Concise History of Ireland, Dublin, Gill and Macmillan, 2000, p67
7. Furlong, Diarmait King of Leinster, p138.
8. ibid
9. The Jewish Enclyclopedia
10. L. Hyman, The Jews of Ireland, Irish University Press, Shannon, 1972, p 4
11. J.O Preswich, Millitary Intelligence under the Norman and Angevin Kings, in Law and Government in Medieval England and Normandy, eds Garnett & Hudson, Cambridge University Press, 1994
12. later St Lawrence O’Toole
13. Katherine Simms. Oxford Illustrated History of Ireland, p. 60
14. The Norman Invasion of Ireland. p 182
15. The Annals of Ulster; quoted in The Norman Invasion of Ireland, p196

This is a a family Bloomsday story which we’d like to share with the greater family and friends throughout the globe, but of course if you’re neither, you’re welcome to share our happy memories too. I should have published this several weeks ago, but maybe it’s appropriate that it appears on the day Dublin was designated a UNESCO City of Literature.

June 16 was also my aunt Kaa’s birthday. She died last November and is sorely missed. Her real name was Katherine Philomena, shortened to Kamena, and then to Kaa.

Some weeks before, my cousin Eamonn mentioned to me in an email that he and Kaa had always joked about going to Dublin for Bloomsday . I remembered that Kaa and I also always shared a joke about Bloomsday on her birthday. It was one of her many kindnesses that she was aware that I loved the work of James Joyce, and she was well and humorously aware that I remembered to ring her on her birthday only because of the Bloomsday celebration. Then Eamonn suggested that we celebrate Bloomsday in Dublin in memory of Kaa and her eldest son Michael thought it was a great idea and immediately said he would come.

We had all been frantically busy in the meantime, so the arrangements were very last minute, but the idea crystallised thus: Michael and Eamonn would come to my house at midday, with a photo of Kaa.

(Kaa’s daughter Alexis actually sent it by post and it arrived just in time) and we would have some lunch and then walk to several places in Dublin associated with Bloomsday, and read a few passages from Ulysses along the way.

We were met by someone who would rather remain anonymous in Jervis Park, and we took some photos with The Church and Mary Street, where Joyce set up a cinema around 1907, as background.

Our first stop was The Church, a former Protestant church where Wesley preached, Arthur Guinness was married and Sean O’Casey was baptised. It’s been very tastefully restored with many plaques and religious signs, and the organ, still as remarkable features. Our anonymous benefactor stood us a round of drinks and went back to work.

Then Eamonn spotted this above where I was sitting.

“This do in Remembrance of Me”.

It was an obvious photo.


Then, in brief, we went to the Joyce statue in North Earl Street, the cricket grounds in Trinity College where we read appropriate passages from Ulysses (and were caught in the act by Brendan Kennelly)
and Sweny’s Pharmacy (where Michael did the honours and bought lemon soap), all mentioned in Ulysses.

Then Aisling joined us in Lincoln Place, outside what was once Finn’s Hotel where Nora Barnacle worked when Joyce met her, and we went for cool drinks in The National Library, also associated with Ulysses.



After which we went to Stephen’s Green for final photos at Joyce’s statue there, and retired for a much-needed drink in Neary’s pub.


We then came back to my place, uploaded the photos and sent them to as many family members as we had email addresses for.

It was quite a day.

By the way, we’ve renamed Bloomsday KaaBloomsday, at least as far as our family is concerned!

The inaugural talk is The Responsibility of the Individual, by Professor Ivor Browne

These conversations are contemplative in nature and attempt to understand the dynamics behind the upheavals in our current culture. The format uses silence and reflection as a sympathetic cocktail for exploring an appropriate spiritual response to the dilemmas we collectively face.

The Taking Ownership series begins on 7th May, 2010 from 7.15pm – 9.15pm. Refreshments will be provided. Admission free. (The Living Room is a money-free zone!)

@Philip_Casey

www.youtube.com/watch?v=lc6ZY91kUTk

The Arts Council has sent its congratulations to the 7 artists
who were elected as members of Aosdána, the affiliation of creative artists in Ireland. Francis Harvey, Vona
Groarke, Conor McPherson, Gráinne Mulvey, Sheila O’Donnell, Kevin Volans and Yvonne Farrell were elected as members at the Aosdána General Assembly in the Armagh City Hotel.

The Arts Council established Aosdánain 1981 to honour those artists whose work has made an outstanding contribution to the arts in Ireland and to encourage and assist members in devoting their energies fully to their art. Membership of the organisation, which is by peer nomination and election, is limited to 250 living artists, who have produced a distinguished body of work. Members must have been born in Ireland or have been resident here for five years. Aosdána members who reside in Ireland may be eligible, subject to an income threshold, to receive the ‘cnuas’ from the Arts Council — an annuity for a term of five years — to enable them to concentrate fulltime on their art. The newly elected nominees will bring the current Aosdána membership to 246.

- from The Arts Council Newsletter, April 30, 2010

I’d like to add my congratulations.

I’d also like to congratulate here and pay tribute to the man who conceived of Aosdána, Anthony Cronin. When Cronin was Charles Haughey’s artistic adviser he persuaded Mr Haughey that it would be an enlightened and unique idea. In an after dinner speech in the Armagh City Hotel, (under the auspices of the Armagh City and District Council and the North South Ministerial Council), Cronin outlined the thinking behind the foundation of Aosdána, its ethos, its inevitable flaws, and what it has done to transform the lives of writers and artists. I can attest to the latter.
Now 82,
Anthony Cronin image by Edward Maguire Source

(A page of text from the Book of Armagh Source : [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Book_of_Armagh.jpg] {{PD}} Category:Book of Armagh)

The agm was significant in other respects too, not least in the unanimous vote supporting the motion seeking clarification of the Residential Institutions Redress Act, 2002, proposed by Margaretta D’Arcy, and seconded by Paula Meehan.

The motion reads as follows
With reference to sections 7 (6) and 34 of the Redress Act 2002, Aosdána calls on the Minister for Justice and/or the Attorney General to confirm that nothing in these sections can or should be construed in such a way as to inhibit any truthful treatment of the subject, whether factual or fictionalised, in memoirs, novels, short stories, poetry, plays, film-scripts, etc., or in any other art form.

From the Residential Redress Act 2002 (dealing with compensation to victims of clerical abuse)
7 (6).– A person shall not publish any information concerning an application or an award made under this Act that refers to any other person (including an applicant), relevant person or institution by name or which could reasonably lead to the identification of any other person (including an applicant), a relevant person or an institution referred to in an application made under this Act.

34.– A person who is guilty of an offence under sections 7(6) and 28(9) shall be liable–

(a) on summary conviction, to a fine not exceeding €3,000 (£2,362.69) or to imprisonment for a term not exceeding 6 months or both, or
(b) on conviction on indictment, to a fine not exceeding €25,000 (£19,689.10) or imprisonment for a term not exceeding 2 years or both.

The motion was passed unanimously.

Two other important motions were also passed.

On some of the recent tax exemptions, proposed by Anthony Cronin and seconded by Mannix Flynn

Aosdána deplores some of the recent tax exemptions granted to the authors of books and calls for the introduction of new guidelines in accordance in accordance with the spirit of the Act.

Ciaran O’Driscoll asked if Anthony Cronin would be more specific about who he had in mind. In paraphrase, in his reply Anthony Cronin spoke about the intention behind the exemption, which was granted to a work that is original and creative and is generally recognised as having cultural or artistic merit. He trenchantly stated that Bertie Ahern’s autobiography, which was ghost written, did not come under those guidelines.

To quote The Irish Examiner

Mr Cronin was an adviser for the initial establishment of the artists’ exemption scheme, but has stated that many of the works which were now qualifying for exemption were “rubbish”, and he said Mr Ahern’s recent autobiography, written by English historian Richard Aldous, was “an example of how ridiculous the whole thing has become”.

The motion was passed unanimously.

Censorship by Dunamaise Arts Centre supported by the Arts Council of Ireland/An Chomairle Éalaíon

Note:Originally proposed by Mannix Flynn, it was pointed out by Glenn Patterson that (in paraphrase) while he supported the motion he thought that because the motion concerned Mannix Flynn’s company Far Cry Productions that it was not appropriate that it should be proposed by him. This was accepted and Nick Millar agreed to propose the motion.

Proposed by Nick Miller, seconded by Ulick O’Connor.

That this assembly deplores the act of censorship imposed by management of the Dunamaise Arts Centre Portlaoise on Far Cry Productions’ installation of the Visual Arts Show Padded Cell and Other Stories. Further, that this assembly finds that the support by the Arts Council for such censorship inappropriate and unacceptable.

There were strong feelings expressed against, notably by Kerry Hardie, and in support, notably by Alice Maher.

The motion was passed overwhelmingly, with three votes against.

Declaration of interest I am a member of Aosdána and was present at the meeting.
Any discussion mentioned here is paraphrased from memory and may not be 100% accurate. The motions are copied from the Aosdána handout and the motions and discussion were held in Public Session.
Philip Casey

Note: The part of this post concerning the Redress Act will be copied to The God Squad, the website of record concerning such matters.

When I saw the headline Tribute paid to Dublin character, by Olivia Kelly in the Irish Times, I feared that one of the few public witnesses to her gospel that I had ever warmed to was dead. Happily, Mary Margaret Dunne is still alive. The article was referring to a living tribute to her organised on Facebook

In my 1994 novel, The Fabulists., Ms Dunne features on the last page, as crowds wait on Lord Edward and Dame streets to cheer the newly-elected President Mary Robinson, due in cavalcade in her 1947 Rolls-Royce. Needless to say, everyone was behind barricades, watched over by the relaxed and good-humoured Guards (Irish police). And then, exactly as the passage describes, came one exception, and the Guards, to their eternal credit, just smiled like everyone else. Mary Robinson had been branded a communist by her more trenchant opponents, but this deeply religious woman created a moment of magic when all enmity seemed forgotten and toleration had displaced it. It was, I believe, a uniquely Irish moment, if such a thing exists.
For those who don’t understand Irish, Dia’s Muire dhuit means God and Mary be with you – ie Mary the Mother of God, not Mary Robinson, though for a fleeting moment the distinction was blurred.

Then there was a murmur of recognition from the crowd as the woman who danced with her cross in O’Connell Street seemed to come from nowhere. As usual, her grey hair was tied back neatly. As usual, she smiled brightly as she brandished the cross. But now she walked with happy abandon, though she never deviated from the white line in the middle of the road. As she showed her cross to the crowds to her left and right she seemed to chant something, and Tess thought it was a religious protest; but as she came nearer and was audible Tess broke into a happy smile. Everyone was smiling, even the guards, who made no attempt to move her.
‘Ooh ooh,’ the woman was repeating happily, ‘a Lady President, Dia’s Muire dhuit. Ooh ooh, a Lady President, Dia’s Muire dhuit.’ And she continued down the road, unmolested, until she was out of sight.
‘Isn’t that great?’ Tess said, turning to Mungo, her tears threatening to spill over.
‘It is,’ he said. ‘It’s great.’

You can read the last chapter of The Fabulists here

One Hundred and Thirty Nine Years of Solitude

(CBS Gorey, l854-l993 /past pupil,1967–1971)

I can see now, at the distance
of half a lifetime,
that what I disliked about it
was the absence of women,
their sensual spur to wit
which keeps the intellect entranced.

That’s why Latin was dead:
amo, amas, amat had no object.
Mathematics, too:
it had no pax de deux,
no algebra of the hormones.
Irish was a sex-free zone,
a vital, private part of expression
cut away from a blood-rich tongue.

A Brother told me
that if I read half the books
on science that I did on history
he’d be pleased.
But history had its Lucrezia Borgias,
and English its Louise.

Not for me the Greek ideal
that a man’s intellectual equal
could only be a man,
though I wasn’t aware of this, or of anything.
But some fine teachers had a liking
for intellectual hunger, and passed it on.

Now I can see that like everyone,
I was a product of my time,
as the men who taught me
were products of theirs.
They had a certain certainty
which allayed their fears,
or so it seemed, whereas my conviction
was that nothing was certain –

apart from the beauty of a certain woman.

Perhaps thus a culture evolves,
and amidst such tensions
in small classrooms
a new generation tries to solve
the conundrum of its role,
convinced it will make a better world.

Philip Casey

139 Years of Solitude by Philip Casey is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://blog.philipcasey.com/contact-me/.

The Project

In the European Ghost Literary Project we want to collect a good number of stories based on European folklore, fairy tales, myths and legends, told by the people who know them best. In this way we would like to create a testimonial of European history and culture from Portugal to Russia and from Turkey to Iceland in the form of a book which will emphasize the similarities as well as the diversity between our cultures.

For the writers this would be an excellent opportunity to gain an international audience and attract attention to their writing. Of course we will extend all the usual courtesies of publishing.
The stories can be submitted in English, Spanish, French or German, but if you are more comfortable writing in your native language, please do not hesitate. We have a myriad of translators and native speakers on stand-by.

Should you be interested or just looking for more information, please check out our website European Ghost Literary Project or contact us through infoATeuropeanghostDOTcom.
 
Kind Regards,

Marcel Admiraal
Project Manager
0031 6 412 260 26
infoATeuropeanghostDOTcom

As it happens, a few years back I was asked to adapt an Irish myth for a children’s book of world literature. The book was never published, as far as I know, but it meant that I had a ready-made story, The Land of Youth, to offer Marcel’s project, and it is now on his site under Stories as a creative commons pdf.

As The Land of Youth was written for children, it’s in simple language, but perhaps that is fortuitous as it is now intended for a pan-European audience so hopefully non-native speakers will find it easy to read.

The introduction and notes are too long to publish here, but I’ll post them soon, hopefully.

You can also see Cyclopedia-Ireland, an early version Irish Culture Guide, dating from April 23, 2001.Some versions have this epigraph:

The best thing for being sad is to learn something
–Merlin the Magician

What that says about me, or me then, I’m not sure. As far as I recall I got that quote from an old book, but I can’t be certain.

By 2002, I’d found Cyclopedia-Ireland a bit too much to live up to and had settled for the more modest Irish Culture Guide (2002 version.. This is how Irish Writers Online and Irish Culture Guide look today, in case you haven’t seen them recently!

Needless to say, I’d lost a lot of the above over the years — computer crashes, new computers, or simply overwriting, so it’s great that the Internet Archive Wayback Machine has copies of a lot of it. It’s an imperfect record, with a lot of pages missing, but it’s way better than nothing and a tribute to the foresight of the founders.

And it’s nice to see that Kavanagh’s dictum on poetry holds true for web design — the journey ‘from simplicity to simplicity.’