The Local Bigwigs in Joe-Pat's Townland

A cold pair of ones .....

Joe-Pat's mother had once been engaged in the service of the Hamiltons, a family of Scotch descent, resident in England. They were not lately in Ireland much, but when they did come over, it was an icy wind that cut over the townland. There was some terrible connection between this family and Mary-Anne's. But more of that later.

Joe-Pat's illustrious descendancy

Joe-Pat's illustrious and talented descendants .... Joe-Pat was not to know that the future held great things in store for him personally, the great turn his fortunes were to take which marked the end of his "wandering years". More of that later.

ILL-BRED DOGS ; ITS A DISGRACE - SOMETHING's GOT TO BE DONE

CATHO OR PROTESTANT ; SOME PROBLEMS REMAIN THE SAME

CELIBACY : TAKE YOUR PICK

CELIBACY : THE WISDOM OF THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH

Little snowy white feet

Little Mary-Anne of the snowy white feet....

There was in the townland a young girl, a "colleen", by the name of Mary-Anne. Joe-Pat first saw her one evening at the side of the Crossroads observing with interest the dancing lessons. She was clearly too poor to pay the dancing master and as she stood in bare feet, her glossy black mane tumbling over a tattered red cloak. One day Joe-Pat offered to pay a sixpence for a lesson which she gently accepted. The next week however she came back to say that her family had told her not to accept money from men or strangers. She continued to come along every week to look on. Though the others took no notice of her, Joe-Pat was taken with her gracious manner. Never a word was uttered between them. One day, as autumn was approaching, she did not come. She was never seen or heard of again. Someone told Joe-Pat's mother that the familiy had moved away from their mud cabin and gone to Dublin. Strangely affected, he continued to carry the memory of her little face in his mind until years later, when a man, he made a most amazing discovery about her and her whereabouts. But more of that later.

Dancing at the crossraods ; Jigs and reels and cotilions

Joe-Pat : his Mother's Pride ...

Joe-Pat was known to be bright, and his mother, a widow who had worked at the Big House, had done what she could to procure an education for him. The Master of the Hedge School lamented on the fact that there was no way of further developing his education. Joe-Pat showed promise in the arts too, and his poor oul mother gathered up her pennies for the dancing master that took them for lessons at the Crossroads. She had him well turned out, and even had a pair of brogues for the dancing. Here is what Young observed on his travels concerning the love of the common Irish for dancing: "Dancing is so universal among them that there are everywhere itinerant dancing-masters, to whom the cottars pay sixpence a quarter for teaching their families. Besides the Irish jig, which they can dance with the most luxuriant expression, minuets and country dances are taught ; and I even heard some talk of cotilions coming in." (Arthur Young's Tour in Ireland (1776-1779), p. 147).

Protestants in the family; a secret source of pride

The strange likeness between Archie and Joe-Pat ...

Long ago, years back when Joe-Pat was a boy, he would occasionally come across the Oakley family. The father owned a saw mill and they were relatively well to do. However, they kept themselves to themselves as they were of the Protestant persuasion, upright and God-fearing and never cursed or got drunk and everyone looked up to them. One day Barney told Joe-Pat : "Aren't ye the spit o' thon there young un. Ye'd tek the two of yez for brothers, I'm thinkin'." The boy, called Archie, would stare across at Joe-Pat, for the same idea had obviously occurred to him too. And so it happened that whenever Joe-Pat would be in town, he'd seek out Archie, and Archie likewise. But neither spoke. It was just unthinkable. One day Joe-Pat casually mentioned the Oakleys to his mother and that was when he learned that Oakley wasn't their real name, but an assumed one, and that Archie's great-grandfather had been driven in desperation to "take the soup". And stranger still, wasn't Samuel Oakley, Archie's Da, a second cousin of Joe-Pat's poor father. Far from evoking in the breast of Joe-Pat the usual righteous indignation felt amongst his co-religionists, this revelation of his mother's seemed a consecration of sorts. To be connected with such fine people was a secret source of pride by Joe-Pat's reckoning. "Now don't be goin' tellin' anyone what I told ye, d'ye hear " warned his mother.

Souper ; Protestant or Catholic? Take your pick.

Mis-information along the Way...

The Homecoming wasn't always a happy affair, and the mood could be set according to the reception you might receive within the townland. Like the year Joe-Pat met with oul McCrudden, a tailor, moral vigilante of sorts, coming along the by-road.

"Howra Barney" "Is it Joe-Pat I'm seein' ?" "I'm back to see the mother." "And well might ye be, for it could be fer the last time, I don't know." "Ah now, don't be tellin me ...." "She's very low, very failed, now.... That's the fine coat ye have on yer back. Have ye took the soup?"

As you might imagine, this sort of exchange was not exactly calculated to make Joe-Pat feel welcome. Joe-Pat, the generous soul he was, took oul Barney in his stride. For hadn't the oul codger managed down the years to slip with consummate ease between the Papish and Protestant religions depending on the state of the praties. It had been all the style some years previous, even in the highest quarters (even with some of the great Gael Houses), to change over. It was just as easy to change back. But they that stayed on in the Protestant religion were a queer lot, becoming isolated in time from the rest of the community. "The Soupers" they were known as down the generations. Which brings us to the strange case of far out cousins of Joe-Pat's who were the "Protestant branch" of the family.

The Hearth

All was cosy and warm inside ......

Joe-Pat would quietly enter the cabin and there see seated at the fireside his little mother minding the cauldron, quietly humming something Liturgical. For company she had a variety of two and four-legged beings about her, though to someone of Joe-Pat's refinement, the heat and the humidity and all the rest were quite over-powering.

Every Son has a mother...

Every son has a mother, and Joe-Pat was no exception ...

Molloy put it about that he didn't know where Joe-Pat came out of but he'd heard that maybe he was a tinker ... Which was not in fact the case, for we have it on record that although for many years after working in Arrahcashel House Joe-Pat had become what today we would call a "travelling person", that is, one who walked the length and breadth of Ireland, he had come originally from a fixed abode. He even made a great point of visiting his mother, a "widdy", living in the wilds of some county out on the Western Board, at least once every year, usually in Michaelmas. How his great generous heart swelled in his breast at the sight of the "Homestead" when he rounded the corner after coming down from the Perilous Pass ... the smoke, not exactly rising from the chimney (for there was none), puffing out in black dust balls through the front door (which was the only aperture in the whole structure).

Bardic Tradition in Ireland

The conference of the Bards ...

Joe-Pat met up with a number of bards across Ireland and we would like to think there was an interesting exchange of ideas ... Exchange there was certainly was, quite what exactly, we will never know ...

Irish speakers

But Lady Sophia, Sir Richard's sister, was the Irish scholar in that house, and was indeed able to translate to visitors many of the poems Joe-Pat recited : better than he could himself .....

Lady Alicia

Was Joe-Pat's most ardent admirer of his musical gifts ... according to himself.

Next morning ... Eliza Ponsonby

The next morning an account had to be given of the ball :

"They say the style was great."

"Oh, ... it as alright."

Meanwhile ... at the DeVeres'

All was peace and harmony in Sir Richard's domain. The gossoon could be seen stealthly advancing along the back field in search of a plump chicken for Lady Alicia's tea.

Home again

All were in fear and trembling of the Ponsonbys after a ball. On alert you might say.

Ireland History of

Fireside chitchat

(Sotto voce) "If ye had 'a seen the cut "o thim goin' out .. then comin' back ... T'would a made a cat laugh ... "

"Aw, sure, don't be talkin' !"

The rest of the domestics were worn out cleaning and washing the Ponsonby's party apparel, and it long after Midnight.

Hopeful hearts

At the gathering, everyone was there, all the bloods and the buckos of the country. The talk was great.

Anglo-Irish chroniques

Vanity fair

The night started off well enough. Ponsonby was not above consulting his valet on his appearance :
"Not too big? Still have my legs!"
"No! Perfect fit!" agreed the Lady of the house. "Yes, I think some would judge us a well-preserved couple..."
"Fine legs, Mashter!"
Ponsonby was proud of the new burgundy velvet jacket he had picked up that very day.

A night out : It wasn’t much crack for everyone though … Mickey Deany fired the logs on like the blazes …. "Hell rub it up them …."

Across the valley lived a neighbouring family, the Ponsonbys. The DeVeres had not much to do with them, but naturally their paths crossed during the odd soirees of the County. The Ponsonbys were vain, dissatisfied people, who resented the fact that their estate was small and that no matter how greatly the tenantry and cotters were squeezed, they had insufficient funds to pay themselves an annual season in "Town", by which they meant London. Here is what Young had to record after a few evenings spent in the company of the Ponsonbys and their like : "If from the lowest class we rise to the highest, all there is gaiety, pleasure, luxury, and extravagance ; the town life at Dublin is formed on the model of that of London. Every night in the winter there is a ball or a party, where the polite circle meet, not to enjoy but to sweat each other ; a great crowd crammed into twenty feet square gives a zest to the agréments of small talk and whist. There are four or five houses large enough to receive a company commodiously, but the rest are so small as to make parties detestable. There is, however, an agreable society in Dublin, in which a man of large fortune will not find his time heavy..." (Arthur Young's Tour of Ireland (1776-1779), Vol. II, p. 48).

Joe-Pat, the Bard

Joe-Pat was a pure product of the hedge school. Young adult, he got himself under the "patronage", as he would have it, of Sir Richard DeVere of Arrahcashel House, the representative of an old Planter family come in during the reign of the First Elizabeth. Joe-Pat's mission was a simple one, consisting chiefly of entertaining the family with old Irish airs and poetry in the Gaelic tongue. "You put me in mind of the Blind Harper ... " said Sir Richard's uncle one evening. "Do I, Your Honour?" "O'Carolan was the name ..." "I knew him well!" the words tripping our of Joe-Pat's mouth,"I learned all I know from him!" "Indeed..." sighed the old man, and smiling sadly turned slowly to address the gentle Lady Alice. With time, Joe-Pat, or, I should say, his fine tenor voice, came, in spite of himself, to be loved in the fine house. Not by everyone, though, that is, there was a lot of inarticulate murmuring going on below stairs, the chief perpetrator being Molloy, the Chief Footman. Joe-Pat quickly picked up a certain polish and learned to appreciate the beautiful things of the Big House. "Things is come to the quare pass when "the Bard" has the run 'o the house" muttered Molloy.

Upright people ; learning morality in Ireland of the sixties

Disapproving aunties ... not in front of the childer!!!!

"Ten children! The irresponsibility of the man!"

"I don't know how she manages!"

"Aunti Ta, what's irresponsabully mean?"

"Never you mind, that's grown up's talk!"

Elegant times

In fear and trembling .. of a sort ...

There was elegance. So long ago. And now, the sombre presence of Ma, that great-boned heavy-jawed female of the species. He could not remember how it was she came to be there.

Dining out

Happier days ...

He remembered dining out with his wife. Changed times indeed.

Changed times

Sometimes you have to take what you're given...

Sir William had a "house keeper", Mrs Mackle, and she served him what she called Irish stew. Ma Mackle, as she was known in the Outside World, owned an aitin' house. He didn't dare open his mouth.