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.