Tommy’s Tales of Jenkinstown

“Many were the cheery happenings I witnessed in that most hospitable house (Jenkinstown).

One day we were all having luncheon in the small room downstairs. The whole family were there, when up rolled a poor soft sort of soul. “A harmless poor craythur” as they say in their kindly way in Ireland. Mr Bellew opened the French window and said: “McEvoy, would you like a drink?” “Begob I would yer Honor,” was the reply. So a real big tumbler was filled with Irish whiskey, sherry, claret, Worcester sauce, and every other condiment on the luncheon table, a bit o’ mustard too, and just a “suspicion” of red pepper. McEvoy raised his glass, “to yer good health and the family” and downed the lot without the quiver of an eyelid. Such were the customs of Jenkinstown.

On another occasion Martin Mulholland, an excellent joiner, still employed at Jenkinstown, came back from Kilkenny where he had been to the Fair and reported his return to Mr Bellew and his brother who were in the smoking room. When he came in, Mr Bellew said:”Hullo, Martin, what’s wrong with your face?” “Oh,” he replied, “Mr Richard, I have the most awful toothache.” Mr Bellew winked at his brother and said: “Sit down and let us have a look at it.” “Ah,” he said, “this must be removed.” So they gave the patient a real jorum of whiskey, and the only forceps they could find were the champagne nippers. Anyhow, the operator got a good hold and cut clean thro’ the tooth, leaving a nice bit behind. The patient said: “Begor that shuk it, and Mr Bellew you are far better than the quack fellow who used to go round pulling teeth all over the country with a band to drown the yells of the worst cases!” Martin has the remains of that tooth to this day.

The Bellews being an old Catholic family, had their own private chapel and all the servants were also Roman Catholics. Mr Bellew one day wanting some carpentry work done in the dining room sent for Martin and accompanied him to show him what to do. In the dining room there was an oil painting of Pope Pius IX*. Martin seeing His Holiness made the sign of the Cross, and then with his eyes glued on the picture, said “Mr Richard, the eyes is followin’ me.” He went from one corner of the room to the other, still the eyes followed him, as they will in a good picture. It was too much for the faithful henchman, and he got under the dining table and crept out on his hands and knees. I expect it took a glass of John Jameson to soothe his nerves and assure him it was not the eye of reproof.

Jenkinstown was typical of the old country house in Lever’s day. All the old retainers stayed on and everyone was welcome. It is sad to think that these old, merry days are gone. To the writer, she will never be the same Ireland again.” (Border Sport and Sportsmen, T M Fergusson, 1932)

* Portrait of Pope Pius IX is at Barmeath today.

Should you still be in any doubt about “Tommy” Fergusson’s character he goes on to describe his vision for Ireland in the 20th century.

”A different class has arisen who “knew not Joseph.” A great many of the old landowners, who were not “burnt out”, have left for good. Many were just “fairly comfortably” off in the old days, not rich to English ideas, but happy, and loved their old land, and as we were all poor, it made no difference. Everyone gave you the best they had in the place. If only things had been different, all the old country houses might have had wealthy English and Scotch tenants residing there – A1 hunting, salmon-fishing, etc., and a lovely climate and country, but it was not to be. She seems always to have been in the melting pot of politicians and used as a pawn in the game by every government. It is always easy to be wise after the event, but twenty-five years ago if she had got Home Rule, I believe the first thing the Government would have done would have been to have had an Upper House comprised of the “Gintry and Ould Stock” like the grand old juries were. When they acted as the County Council do now, the peasants under the grand times got at least a fair deal, and they all knew it well.“(Border Sport and Sportsmen, T M Fergusson, 1932)

I rest my case.