大象传媒

Edward Carson, the acknowledged leader of Unionism, defender of the British Empire and... determined supporter of Irish culture and heritage?

King William must have been in fairly buoyant mood, as he showered Sir John with gifts, including decanters, a bedspread (!) and two pairs of gauntlets.

Not exactly what we might imagine and, yet, Carson was at the very epicentre of an archaeological tug of war to keep a vitally important assemblage in Ireland.

It's a fascinatingly layered story that had me (admittedly, an easily over-excited military historian and 'non-dirt' archaeologist) hooked at once. Yet, the background to the Broighter Hoard is just one of the wonderful stories that Professor Alice Roberts and I were lucky enough to look at in Ireland's Treasures Uncovered... from ancient gold and high monastic manuscripts to medieval - and more recent - political documents. They are all stories with rich threads of contradiction and irony running through them, telling us that our past has always been, well, a little complicated to say the least.

The discovery, recovery, ownership and meaning of the Broighter Hoard is a compelling tale. The hoard is thought to have been an offering to the Irish sea god and is a series of gold objects, dating to c.100BC, ploughed up from fields near Limavady in 1896 and subsequently sold to the British Museum.

As Northern Ireland was not in existence, in March 1898, William Redmond MP (and brother of the leader of Irish Nationalism, John Redmond) tried to implement a Bill to 'return' the hoard to Dublin. Although this failed, the whole process triggered continuous questions in parliament and a Royal Commission which eventually resulted in a famous Treasure Trove case in 1903. This saw the legal forces of the British Museum ranged against those of the British State, ironically represented by the combined talents of William Redmond and the then Solicitor-General, Sir Edward Carson. To compound this irony further (if possible!), although the hoard was found firmly in geographical County Londonderry, it never quite returned 'home' as such and is still on display in Kildare Street, Dublin; just as Carson intended.

With access to some of the most famous - and stunning - objects on display at the Ulster Museum and the National Museum of Ireland, it was a privilege to spend time with the archaeologists, curators and experts who know these items intimately. It perhaps won't be too surprising for me to say that it was like being a small boy in a sweet shop at times. Indeed, it seems that the ever-present marvel of our history often speaks and, sometimes, screams at you from every precious artefact. Whether it’s the raw beauty of the Neolithic 'porcellanite' stone axes from Tievebulliagh and Rathlin Island (briefly seen in the programme as Alice enters the Ulster Museum) or the exquisite detail and story behind the surviving medieval Christian reliquaries, this is history that you can see with your own eyes and actually hold (with required permission - and gloves!) in your hand.

At this point, I can honestly say it took all my reserves of will-power to resist the very kind offer to hold the first earl of Portland's ceremonial sword - for the simple fear of dropping it or - worse still - brandishing it like a third-rate Captain Jack Sparrow. However, there is another, far more important, gift from King William III in the collection at Collins' Barracks Dublin. The faded and ink-stained gauntlets given to Sir John Dillon are one of the 'real' treasures of 1690; Dillon was an avowed Williamite whose family home, Lismullen House, was at the King's disposal the day after the Battle of the Boyne. King William must have been in fairly buoyant mood, as he showered Sir John with gifts, including decanters, a bedspread (!) and two pairs of gauntlets. These show considerable signs of wear (including the distinct impression of a hand) and it is very tempting to think that these surviving gloves were worn by him at the time. Unfortunately, any direct evidence was destroyed in a later fire at Lismullen when a burning party came to the house on the night of 4 April 1923. The Dillon family were allowed to remove possessions beforehand and, whilst many documents were lost, every effort was made to save King William's gifts. If we are trying to find a potential link between history and 'moments of time', then perhaps such seemingly ordinary objects as those unassuming gloves are as close as we can get.

In fact, artefacts like these hint at the hidden historical wealth on display in every museum in the land. Yet, when we come to look at the items crafted by earlier goldsmiths, it is easy to describe them unashamedly as 'treasures' - one look at the iconic Tara Brooch more than justifies such a claim. But even this brooch, so symbolic of Ireland and dating to c.700AD, may not be what it seems and, since its discovery (c.1850), has been used as a fashion item by Victorian royalists and Easter Rising rebels alike.

Just as with the divided imagery surrounding Cú Chulainn, the young champion of Ulster, continues today, it is remarkable that the earliest partial preservation of the Táin Bó Cuailgne is to be found in another literary treasure - theBook of the Dun Cow (c.1100 AD). This captivating collection of history, mythology and religious passages is unique in Irish literature as the oldest surviving miscellaneous manuscript. It tells us that, in Twelfth century Clonmacnoise at least, there were still historian-monks determined to chronicle their past, according to their lights, and place it into the context of the world around them. I think that's possibly something which many of us can identify with - and a bit of a disarming thought it is too.

So perhaps the narrative strands of our collective history are continually woven around the mythologies, heritage and relics that we preserve or, indeed, discard. Which perhaps brings us neatly back to the most famous item in the Broighter Hoard, the intricate and striking little Gold Boat; saved by Redmond's persistence and Carson's legal eloquence - and subsequently showcased as the supreme Irish treasure. It certainly is overpoweringly exquisite and still, somehow, powerfully relevant today. It has come to represent our vision of the prehistoric past and, like all of the artefacts Alice and I had the pleasure to discuss, reflects and illuminates our complicated notions of identity.