On with the Dance

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How fitting that this week’s funeral of Captain Sir John Leslie, otherwise universally known as Jack, should have taken place in glorious sunshine, the same kind he shed on so many peoples’ lives. Jack died last Monday just eight months shy of reaching his centenary, having been born in December 1916. Over the course of ten decades he witnessed many changes in the world but somehow still behaved as though it was much the same as that into which he had emerged: I remember on the first occasion we met our conversation turned to the Romanian author Princess Marthe Bibesco, and he produced a book she had given and signed to him. His own memoirs, Never a Dull Moment, written ten years ago are full of entertaining reminiscences and suggest a personal history untouched by setbacks or misfortune. Of course this was not the case, as evidenced by Jack’s experience during the Second World War. Commissioned in the Irish Guards, he and his platoon crossed to France in May 1940 where they were almost immediately captured by the German army: Jack spent the next five years in a Bavarian Prisoner of War camp with all its attendant privations.
Although he returned to Ireland on his release and was expected to assume responsibility for Castle Leslie, within a few years Jack left again, eventually settling in Rome where he occupied a small palazzo in the Trastevere district, as well as embarking on the restoration of an ancient monastery outside the city, the Badia di San Sebastiano di Alatri. Some twenty years ago he finally came back to Castle Leslie, by this time in the care of his niece Sammy Leslie, and settled down as resident guide and anecdotalist, always delighted to engage with visitors and explain the history of his family and their property.
In later years Jack also became well-known for his fondness for nightclubs where he would energetically dance to what he liked to call ‘boom boom’ music. I accompanied him on these expeditions more than once, initially in the self-appointed role of chaperone. However, like everyone else I discovered he was invariably received with wild enthusiasm, and would soon be surrounded by a coterie of solicitous admirers, on average only a quarter of his age. But there were other instances, notably a tea held in his honour some years ago at Bellamont Forest, where Jack demonstrated older forms of dancing: supported by a sixteen-piece band, that afternoon he gave a lively demonstration of the Black Bottom. So one likes to remember him, light of heart and light of foot. Wherever you may now be Jack: on with the dance.

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For the Day That’s In It

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In the grounds of Down Cathedral on the Hill of Down is this slab of Mourne granite believed to mark the spot where St Patrick was brought for burial following his death on this day in either 461AD or perhaps in 493; there appears to be no universal agreement on the year. The Irish Aesthete wishes all friends and followers a happy St Patrick’s Day.

The Peripatetic Cleric

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The above oil, painted in Constantinople in 1740 by Jean-Étienne Liotard, features in a marvellous exhibition devoted to the Franco-Swiss artist running until the end of the present month at the Royal Academy, London. The sitter was the Anglican clergyman Richard Pococke, then on an extended Grand Tour lasting more than eight years. Pococke’s travels took him not only around Europe but also to Egypt, Palestine, Lebanon & Syria, Asia Minor, and Greece: fortunately his full correspondence (predominantly letters sent to his mother, always addressed as ‘Honoured Madam’) from this period has been edited and published in three volumes in recent years by Dr Rachel Finnegan and is much recommended. From these we learn of Pococke’s meetings in 1740 with Liotard who was then resident in Constantinople, hence in this picture Pococke is represented in oriental costume (a fashion which the artist did much to promote when he returned to Europe). From 1747 onwards Pococke spent increasing periods of time in Ireland where his restless spirit directed him on several journeys around the country: his published tour of 1752 is also compelling reading. He was appointed Bishop of Ossory in 1756 and then of Meath in 1765 but died only a matter of months after assuming the latter office. His memorial in the graveyard of Ardbraccan, County Meath can be seen below. As mentioned, the Liotard exhibition is unquestionably worth seeing, not least for its strong Irish interest since he had many patrons in this country including Simon Luttrell, first Earl of Carhampton, the Earl of Clanbrassil and above all William Ponsonby, second Earl of Bessborough who had first invited Liotard to accompany him to Constantinople.

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May These Characters Remain, When All is Ruin Once Again*

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Thoor Ballylee, County Galway is a 15th/16th century tower house originally built by the de Burgo family but now best known as the former property of poet William Butler Yeats who acquired it a century ago and subsequently undertook a restoration of the old building. Opened to the public in 1965, the tower closed seven years ago after being flooded by adjacent Streamstown river. It might have remained shut thereafter but for the endeavours of a local group, the Yeats Thoor Ballylee Society, which tirelessly worked for the building’s refurbishment in time for last year’s 150th anniversary of the poet’s birth. These pictures were taken two months ago, since when the tower – like so much of the surrounding country – has once more been subjected to severe flooding. However, according to the society’s website (http://yeatsthoorballylee.org) determined efforts are being made to ensure it will reopen later in the spring: an example of local, private initiative that deserves to be applauded and emulated elsewhere.

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*A plaque on the castle’s wall contains the following text: ‘I the poet William Yeats/With old millboards and sea-green slates/And smithy work from the Gort forge/Restored this tower for my wife George./And may these characters remain/When all is ruin once again.’

 

An Active Afterlife

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The west entrance to the 12th century church at Ullard, County Kilkenny, its much-weathered Romanesque doorway featuring the outline of human and animal heads. It was directly facing this entrance that Jeremy Williams was interred last Saturday following a service at nearby Duiske Abbey. Everyone interested in Ireland’s built heritage will have known Jeremy, architect, author and superlative draughtsman, a constant presence at meetings, outings and social gatherings. Always full of enthusiasm, always embarking on a fresh project, always determinedly encouraging others to share his current passion, there were no houses in Ireland where he was not assured of a welcome: and little of the country’s architectural patrimony that he hadn’t nimbly recorded with his pen. His sudden death on Christmas Eve has left a void impossible to fill. Impossible also to imagine Jeremy resting in peace: one imagines that already he is persuading the Almighty to cast an eye over freshly-drafted plans for the refurbishment of Heaven’s Gates.

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At Rest

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A detail of the monument to John Butler, second Marquess of Ormonde in St Canice’s Cathedral, Kilkenny. In September 1854, Lord Ormonde had been bathing with his children off the coast of Wexford when he was, according to a contemporary newspaper report, ‘seized with a fit of apoplexy, and no medical assistance being at hand, he expired in a few hours.’ He was aged 46. The marble monument to his memory was carved the following year by English sculptor Edward Richardson and shows the deceased lying recumbent in his robes as a Knight of the Order of St Patrick.

Literary Links

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On Main Street, Doneraile, County Cork a three-storey, three bay house dating from c.1810. Typical of the domestic buildings in this handsome town, for a long time it served as parochial house for the Roman Catholic priest. The property’s most famous residence was the Reverend Patrick Sheehan who occupied the premises from the time of his appointment to the parish in 1895 until his death in 1913. It was here that he wrote the novels such as My New Curate and Glenanaar, once found in many Irish homes but now more likely to be discovered in second-hand bookshops.