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15 \\ The One Where it Ends

And now, here we are. All is said and done, and this chapter has come to an end. 

There's not much left to say. The final paper has been written and handed in, the blog is pretty much wrapped up, and I suppose this field studies adventure has, finally, come to a close. I think, however, that some reflection is in order, as it always is in these moments.

First off, what a crazy time this was. I have to admit that I was not prepared for how busy this semester was going to get, and how quickly my time would be taken away from me. While I lost control of things for a bit, and had to play catch up, being unfortunately late with this project, I think that I can still take pride in getting it done, and take from this a lesson. Time management is not usually that much of an issue for me, but I suppose everyone messes up at one time or another. I had a few breakdowns this semester, burst into tears more than once but, in the end, pulled through and tried to do the best work that I could. Next time, however, I'll know just how much is involved in doing a literature-based project involving three books. I'll also know how to conduct research effectively abroad. I won't be so nervous. And, most of all, I'll have more faith and confidence in my own abilities. I'll spend less time worrying about not making it, and more time actually making it. 

The final paper for this project is twenty-nine pages. Twenty-nine pages of hard work, and twenty-nine pages which, to me, represent an achievement I am incredibly grateful I got the chance to accomplish. My thanks go to Concordia University's School of Canadian Irish Studies, and everyone in that department who has, directly and indirectly, been involved in the project, and helped me get through it. A special thanks goes to my supervisor, Professor Susan Cahill who was incredibly supportive despite delays and setbacks. 

Things didn't necessarily always go as I had planned, but I will always be glad I got this chance. I, of course, hope to go back to Ireland, perhaps this time renting a car, and going off on some more Big House exploring adventures. 

But for now, this is the one where it ends. 

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14 \\ The One Back Home

Coming back home to Canada, and subsequently starting the fall semester, was quite a shock, in many ways. There was, it seems, very little time to adapt to a new, more regulated, routine. Still, the prospect of turning this research, and amazing experience, into something concrete, was exciting. 

Consulting with my supervisor, it became obvious that there were a million avenues possible for my research, and I have to admit that I had, at that point, no idea where I wanted this research to end up. So, we decided that I should go and do some more reading, in the hopes of narrowing down what it was that I wanted to write about the Big House. My interests lie in history, literature, landscape studies, and memory studies. I was hoping to bring all of these disciplines together, if possible. 

After more meetings, and more reading, a project emerged: the subversion of the domestic space - in this case, the Big House - in Anglo-Irish gothic literature as a means through which a dwindling elite class could understand, grasp, and come to terms with, their extinction. The abstract I wrote for the final paper is perhaps the best way to explain it:

This research looks at the Big House as a space symbolic of domestic and colonial order in Irish Gothic literature, spanning from the early-nineteenth century to the early-twentieth century. It traces the ways in which the subversion of this particular type of physical and allegorical building, through gothic themes, can be seen as a direct, if complex, response to the abating social, political, economical and cultural power of an Anglo-Irish elite. The gothic domestic space, then, sometimes overtly monstrous and disfigured, sometimes subtly damaged, but always ridden with tension and anxiety, is reflective of the fears surrounding the perceived, and somewhat real, fall of the old colonial order in Ireland. Of special interest to this paper are, in chronological order of their publication, Maria Edgeworth’s Ennui (1809), Sheridan LeFanu’s Uncle Silas (1864), and Elizabeth Bowen’s short story, The Back Drawing-Room (1926).

Choosing the three texts for this paper was challenging. I wanted to be able to compare writings across a certain time period - the nineteenth century, and going into the twentieth century - so I couldn't pick authors or texts which were created simultaneously, or relatively simultaneously. This implied some difficult choices. I also had to eliminate one text from Maturin which I originally had planned on analyzing, because it would make this endeavor unfeasible due to its length and density. It was all a question of balance, and I think I achieved the balance I was looking for in choosing Edgeworth, LeFanu, and Bowen. Still, the first two would prove to be extremely long, and I maybe should have focused on shorter stories. 

I think, at this point, that it would be interesting to give you an idea of what I thought of each text, not necessarily solely in the context of my research, but as a reader as well. 

Maria Edgeworth, Ennui

I have to admit to having a hard time with Ennui. I found it quite a bit tedious, and I really thought it would never end. That's not to say that I hated it or anything, not at all. It simply wasn't my favorite of the three. Plus, I found that the amount of filler was astounding. It tells the story of Lord Glenthorn, an idle and depressed Anglo-Irish man of stature living in England who, in going to Ireland, finds his true roots and, ultimately, his redemption. I'm not going to spoil everything about this story, because it does have some incredible twists which would seem perfectly at home in a soap opera. 

In all seriousness, though, Ennui brings forward some recurring themes of Anglo-Irish gothic literature. For instance, the presence of the home - in this case a castle, but also the Big House - as a space of ambiguity. It is not a safe, warm place as one would expected of the domestic household, but a dark, doubtful space of uneasiness and fear. The landscapes are rugged, uneven. The people are mysterious, corrupted, or unnaturally wise. There is always the sense that something is off. However, Ennui is very much didactic in tone, and it aims to teach a moral lesson. It is, in many ways, a warning to an indolent Irish elite class. Edgeworth, in Ennui, holds education as the way to go forward. It is, then, that nurture takes dominance over nature. 

Sheridan LeFanu, Uncle Silas

Uncle Silas was much more overtly gothic than Ennui, and that much more enrapturing, for me. It was, nonetheless, very long, dense, and it did sometimes drag on seemingly unnecessarily, but the suspense and mystery made up for it. Here, the whole landscape, and all houses, are bathed in shadows. Things are always hidden, never completely visible, and always tethering, it seems, on the edge of the sublime. Everyone has something to hide, and the past becomes the ghost which comes to haunt them all, fragmenting the domestic space, and the family unit. The themes of regrets attached to a dark, secret past comes in play fully here, and no one escapes unscathed. 

Madame de la Rougierre, Uncle Silas, artist unknown, photo from here.

Uncle Silas, Uncle Silas, artist unknown, photo from here.

In LeFanu, the Big House is a space which lives in an "other" world, literally and metaphorically separated from the world of the everyday. Again, all characters seem to be threatening in their own way, no one seems completely "safe," except for our protagonist, Maud, and her immediate entourage. The house is not only a repository for the past, but also a repository for the regret, secrets and dangerous darkness which accompany it. 

Elizabeth Bowen, The Back-Drawing Room

This short story was my favorite out of all the three texts which I read for this field study paper. It wasn't my favorite because it was the shortest - at ten pages - although its short length does add to its overall effect. No. This literal ghost story was just amazing in that it managed to highlight so many themes, so man of the Anglo-Irish ascendancy's anxieties of place, identity, and belonging in a concise, compelling and really captivating way. I couldn't stop reading. 

Here again, the Big House is a space of ambiguity - threatening and dangerous. In this case, it is, in fact, neither here nor there, and it exists indeed in an otherworldly plane. With this text, Bowen questions herself to the role that place - a sense of place - plays in forging an identity, and a life. What does it mean, then, when this sense of place is forcibly removed? When one becomes, effectively, placeless, does one continue to live, or, in a way, does one die? Is being in two places at once - but never fully in either - as the Anglo-Irish elite were - akin to being nowhere at all? 

All three texts brought different elements to the final paper, and I think that, in this way, my choices were justified. They also allowed me to bring in some of my experiences in Ireland. Most notably, Bowen's text took me back immediately to Ballymacool House, while LeFanu's reminded me more of Castle Leslie. Being in Ireland, then, definitely helped me better understand these spaces. 

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13 \\ The One With the Loose Ends

I returned home to Canada in early August, and it was with somewhat of a heavy heart. While I've gone over quite a few of my research adventures, this post is here to tie up some loose ends.

As such, it will be a short one. There are, however, certain things that I want to mention. They just weren't extensive enough to warrant a whole blog post on their own. 

1. The Irish Architectural Archive

I only spent a short time at the Irish Architectural Archive, but it was a very important time nonetheless. The Archives have an incredible amount of resources on Big Houses, including photographic records of Big Houses past and present. In this way, I was able to see some houses before their decay, and find others which had seemingly been lost throughout history. Furthermore, there was a wealth of books about Irish country homes which were not only fun to peruse, but useful as well. Here again, the staff was very helpful. I only wish that I had been able to spend more time here and, if I had to do this all over, I would go to the IAA much earlier than I did. 

2. The National Gallery of Ireland

I'm going to be honest: I visited the National Gallery at least five times during my stay in Ireland. I just love the place, and I could stare at some of the paintings for hours on end. But there was also a pragmatic side to my initial visit which was linked to my research project: the Russborough Revisted exhibit. Taking up two rooms, this exhibition showcased some of the family's finest European paintings, and as such gave an insight on the type of lifestyle, people, and objects which occupied the Big House in Ireland. 

3. The National Museum of Ireland: Decorative Arts & History

With an extensive collection of objects and furniture from a variety of types of Irish homes, the Decorative Arts & History pavilion of Ireland's National Museum provided with a good opportunity to gain some insight, once again, on the types of everyday objects which would populate Irish Big Houses, and play a role in the lives of its inhabitants. The Four Centuries of Furnishings section, which consisted of four rooms furnished in period furniture and objects, was also relevant to my research.

My trip to Ireland was amazing. It allowed me to carry out research independently for the first time in my life. And I learned a lot. Of course, I didn't get as much done as I thought I would. I got sidetracked, I got lost, I got delayed, and so on. But it was, nonetheless, very successful, and very happy with myself, that I returned to Canada. Yes, there are things I would do differently, given the opportunity, but I think that, nonetheless, this experience was the most incredible one of my life so far.  

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12 \\ The One With the French Name

Beaulieu House - pronounced beu-lee, as I would be repeatedly told - was the last Big House I visited. Located in Drogheda, it was also he smallest of the functioning country homes I saw.

Still, Beaulieu House cuts an impressive figure, and its amazing view of the Boyne, it's beautiful gardens, its ornate interior, and gothic chapel make it all the more worth a visit. The tour was quick, and there wasn't that many people - in fact, we were three - but it was still thorough, and gave an overview of the many historical characters who lived at Bealieu, and who were very influential in the town of Drogheda.

In this way, Beaulieu was very interesting: there was actually more focus put on history than there was on a sort of romantic picture of the Anglo-Irish ascendancy which belongs more in a television show than it does in reality. Once again, however, pictures of the interior were forbidden, but I managed to sneak a few in.

The entrance hall was probably the most impressive room, featuring exquisitely carved door-frames, some beautiful artwork, and quirky items such as the antlers from a giant Irish elk. On the door-frame seen in the picture above, the carvings depict musical instruments, the highlight of which is a harp - the symbol of Ireland. The work is masterfully done, and the detail is incredibly intricate. In fact, I'm pretty sure that you could look at it multiple time, and still find other points of interest to focus on each and every single time.

Beaulieu House also offers accommodation, though I don't think the transition to a hotel status is quite complete yet. Also in the hands of its original family, it seems as though there's an effort made to try and find a way to market the house. Maintaining Big Houses is notoriously expensive, and difficult, which is also at the root of their decay - few people find the endeavour worth the effort. Beaulieu, then, is a case where economic pressure is engendering some new usage for the house. For instance, it's also an old car museum of sorts, and I think that they were going to try to offer some tea times. The project was in its infancy stage when I visited this summer. 

Walking through Beaulieu, knowing the struggle it was to maintain it, made the experience a bit bittersweet. I wondered at the number of families who had seen themselves in the obligation of departing with their ancestral homes. This loss would not have been seen as such by everyone, either. Their complex place in Ireland means that the death of a Big House is not as lamented as it would be if it had no ties to colonialism. 

After some hours on the grounds of Beaulieu House, I went back to Drogheda, where I spent the rest of the day and caught a train back to Dublin. My journey to Ireland was almost over.

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11 \\ The One With the Reading Tree

There's a tree on the Killruddery Estate under which I spent an afternoon, reading in the shade, trying to take advantage of my last weeks in Ireland. 

Killlruddery House was beautiful, as I had expected, but it also featured its own interesting quirks. Still in use as the Earl of Meath's residence, making it another Big House still inhabited by its original family, this country house is also another very touristic location. When I went there, the gardens were full of families eating ice creams under the sweltering sun, and the grounds were equally filled with people young and old leisurely strolling up and down the paths, taking advantage of an unusually warm and sunny weather. There weren't that many people doing the tour itself, so that was a very nice and cosy experience. The lady who gave the actual tour had been doing this for some years, and so was quite knowledgeable. As per usual, she was also very sweet, and kind. 

The house's most striking feature, to me, and perhaps strangely, were its clocks, many of which had been designed and built by former Earl of Meath, Normand, from found objects. The most impressive one is certainly the exterior water clock tower, which had just been completely refurbished. There was actually a day dedicated to visiting the clock tower, which I missed, but which must have been absolutely fascinating. The Irish Times actually has a very interesting article about the clock, including a video featuring the current Earl of Meath, and owner of the house, himself. 

Interestingly, Killruddery House was, when it was built, much bigger than it is now. Indeed, the house was actually reduced in the 1950s, although the design itself was not altered all that much - it remained true to its original vision. It had been remodeled, as many Big Houses were, in the 1820s, becoming much more ornamented and fitting the style of the time.  

Again, however, there doesn't seem to be all that much to say that I haven't already remarked while speaking of the other houses that I've visited. The rooms were gorgeous, of course, and it was nice to take a tour of a house which was not only in the hands of its original family, but still being lived in by that family. There was, therefore, a sense of authenticity, if you will, to the house. It was populated by memorabilia, trinket and pictures which told that family's story, much like any one of our homes would be. In a way, this was also kind of comforting. 

I've noticed, however, that there is something a bit unsettling about seeing these Big Houses so often stripped of their ties to colonial history, and their implications. Of course, I'm mostly writing about Big Houses which are still in relatively good condition, and which are still used either as touristic venues, or as hotels, or as residences. Because of this, their histories are adapted to be compelling to a wider audience, and the concern for conservation is not the same as it would be in the case of individually owned homes which are not opened to the public in one capacity or other. 

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10 \\ The One With the Hole In the Shoes

The day I visited Muckross House, I literally walked a hole into my shoes.

Muckross House, located in the incredibly beautiful County of Kerry, and in the equally gorgeous Killarney National Park, is a touristic attraction if I've ever seen one. There are at least two gift shops, one cafeteria-style restaurant, and pretty much everything is catered to the average tourist. Which is fine. I'm not saying that this is a negative thing, I want that to be clear. It does, however, elide the nature of Muckross House as a Big House and, therefore, as a player in the complex history of the Anglo-Irish elite in Ireland. 

My day in the National Park was amazing, and involved amounts of walking I didn't know myself capable of. Seriously. I walked all the way from Killarney proper to the Park, then through it, to Muckross Abbey and Muckross House, Torc Waterfall, and the Meeting of the Lakes, amongst many others. I have to admit that, of the house itself, I don't have much to say, and this will most probably be a shorter blog post because of it. 

For one, Muckross is an anglicized form of the Irish name - which was spelled, I think, Mucros - and meant, basically, "hill of pigs." Names in the Irish tongue tend to be more straightforward and descriptive of the real landscape they are ascribed to than their English counterparts. Where the Anglo-Irish, and the English, would give to their places fancy and often romantic names, traditional Irish names simply stated what the place was. 

Muckross was originally meant to be a larger, more lavish house, but plans were eventually down-scaled. It was completed in 1843, and housed Henry Arthur Herbert and his wife. Once again, this house is not one which has been at the heart of much academic research, and I find myself knowing very little about the relationship between the Big House family and those who lived on and around the estate. Much more focus was put, during the tour, on painting a Downton-abbey portrait of Anglo-Irish life. However, the house itself is incredibly well preserved, and the period architecture and decor really allows one to get a feel for what life must have been like at that time.

In this way, it seems that Muckross was a really interesting example of showing and hiding different facets of a place's history. Although I don't necessarily think that this eliding of history was maliciously purposeful, it does demonstrate that, in creating an identity for a space, regardless of the end goal, certain factors are highlighted, and others are relegated to footnotes, or erased completely.

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09 \\ The One With Phoenix Park & the Walk That Never Ends

I eventually returned to Dublin for a while and finally made it to Farmleigh House, in Phoenix Park. I,and the friend who accompanied me, thought that walking would be fine. We quickly realized we had underestimated the size of Phoenix Park. Spoiler alert: it's really, really big.

Farmleigh House is interesting, and somewhat unique, in that it has found a new functionality as a government building. Owned by the well-known Guinness family since 1873, it was sold in 1999 to the government, who now uses it for high profile meetings, and as accommodation for visiting dignitaries. The tour, then, is extremely limited and regulated, and the house itself has undergone quite a few change to make it appropriate to its new role. Upon its acquisition, the house had fallen into a state of disrepair. The last Guinness who had lived there had been a bit of a recluse, and the Office of Public Works was put in charge of the restoration project. 

Its surroundings are, as can be expected, incredible. It is, after all, in Phoenix Park. There are trees and scenic path, a small pond-like area where they've set up a restaurant (we had breakfast/lunch there, overlooking the water and it was pretty great). The tour times are very strict, so you want to make sure you get there on time. But, once again, the tour guide was amazing. He was very knowledgeable, animated, and amenable to questions, so that was very nice. 

The house features rooms of differing styles: an Edwardian study, a Louis XV dining room with paneling from London and Greek references galore, a smoking room with some more paneling, 18th-century gilded mirrors, and a beautiful library which used to be two rooms, to name only a few. Interestingly, the dining room also prominently features Irish products such as lace and crystal. It is also adorned by seven tapestries which used to be in Madrid. They depict Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, and the four corners of the Earth and are, as such, symbols of erudition and worldliness which would have been present in many other prestigious homes. 

The library, though, was by far my favorite room. It was, originally, two rooms, and features a concealed staircase to the upper gallery. It contains more than 5,000 items and employs a full-time librarian. Included in these volumes are a first edition copy of Ulysses, Daniel O'Connell's letters and a Primer of the Irish Language written for Elizabeth I. That last one made me squeal in public, which was kind of embarrassing but, I feel, completely justified. In this way, the library has more than eight hundred years of history within its walls. It is technically open to the public, and its items available to people like you and me, but formal requests must be made. It is also simply a gorgeous room filled with books, which is enough to make me weak in the knees. 

Finally, also of note, is the conservatory. It was the most dilapidated room in the entire house. In the restoration, the floor was kept - it is therefore the original floor - and flowers were planted as per the original plans. The room itself is lovely, and the restoration job very impressive. 

I feel I would be remiss not to comment on the impressive art collection present at Farmleigh. This collection includes Queen Victoria's favorite painting: The Stag at Bay by Sir Edwin Landseer. It is an incredible painting, very dramatic, richly and deeply colored. It also plays host to a number of sculptures and portraits. Another painting that was particularly to my liking is Installation of the Prince of Wales as Knight of St.Patrick in St.Patrick's Cathedral in 1869, by Michael Angelo Hayes. The detailing is just incredible, nearing on impossible, but the real fun comes when you attempt to identify the people in the painting. A key is provided onsite, and the painting includes members of the Guinness family and Oscar Wilde's parents. A few paintings by Orpen, impressive and compelling, including The Idle Girl and Waiting Their Cue, are also on display. Finally, William Hogarth's The Four Times of Day and A Rake's Progress can be seen in the house. There are much more, and I wish I could list all of the artwork in this blogpost. I managed to get my hands on Iveagh Pictures, a book created in the context of an exhibition featuring selected pieces belonging to the first Earl of Iveagh (Edward Cecil Guinness), and which are located at Farmleigh. I don't think it's readily available anymore, but if you can get your hands on it, I would wholeheartedly recommend it, as you will be able to peruse through Farmleigh's impressive collection at your leisure, and in its entirety.  

Note: I'm including here some images of Farmleigh. My images were lost along with those of Castle Leslie, so please note that they come from here, the official website of Farmleigh House.

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08 \\ The One With the Countess' House

I fell in love with County Sligo very quickly, and I could see why W.B. Yeats was so inspired by its landscapes. What's more, Sligo is also the home county of none other than Countess Constance Markievicz, a figure of great importance in the revolutionary period in Ireland, and an amazing woman all-around. 

Markievicz Road, Sligo Town, County Sligo.

Rosses Point, County Sligo.

I spent a good while in County Sligo, over a week actually. I started out in Sligo Town, from where I went to Rosses Point on a day trip to take advantage of the gorgeous landscapes. Then, I spent another day at Lissadell House, which is the main topic of this post, and finally, one more day just walking around town, seeing the gallery, the abbey, and some W.B. Yeats-themed locations. Then, I headed out for three amazing days in Strandhill. Strandhill was, without a doubt, one of the major highlights of my trip. The folks at the Surf n' Stay hostel were fantastic, the atmosphere laid back and the surroundings idyllic. I spent those three days running around on dunes and beaches, hiking up Knocknarea to the tomb of Queen Maeb of Connacht, and relaxing with the people at the hostel, eating hummus and bread. 

But, back to the actual topic of this blog post: Lissadell House. Once again, I found there some incredibly kind folks who were not only willing, but genuinely eager, to talk to me about my project, and share what knowledge or resources they could. The tour guide, for instance, spent an extra half hour discussing the role of the Anglo-Irish ascendancy, as well as the house's architecture as we stood in the back courtyard. The woman who was manning the gift shop, who was also taking care of her grandson, shared with me some stories about the estate, and offered me some much-needed motherly conversation after more than a month away from home. She pointed me to the leaflets I needed, and, when I left, gave me some kind words of encouragement. 

Lissadell House is owned by a family who lives in the house year-round and opens it to the public for a certain period during the summer, and at certain times. Because of this, photography of the inside of the house is forbidden, and you can only follow the tour route - there is no exploring, like there was at Castle Leslie, which was more of a public space. Still, the tour is worth taking, in my opinion, and was interesting in its own right. One of the most striking thing about Lissadell is its simple, spartan-like outside architecture. The interior is lushly decorated, as can be expected, but the outside is very simple, and, plainly put, box-like. This is not a palladian-style house, nor is it gothic-styled like Castle Leslie. 

Then, there are the views. While all Big Houses were built on sprawling demesnes, and had matching, gorgeous views, there's something just breathtaking in Lissadell's surroundings. With incredible views of Benbulbin and Drumcliff Bay, Lissadell has, it seems, a bit of the otherwordly characteristics that Yeats attached to its landscapes. 

There are two things which I particularly liked at Lissadell, that is to say, two things which piqued my interest in a special way. In reality, the tour as a whole was amazing. It's important to note that it dealt more with the house, its layout and features, than it did with the characters who lived there. There was not so much talk about the Countess' political activities, although I was very pleased to note a lot of attention was given to her artistic pursuits, which were highlighted throughout the tour. On the political and social role of Lissadell, I'll say this now, as I've said it before: Lissadell complicates the idea of diametrically opposed, rigid identities of English and Irish. It is Anglo-Irish in every way possible. It represents both landlordism, and republicanism by those who have lived in its four walls, and it becomes, then, an interesting space in which contested identities can be discussed, and where they converge, merge, and diverge. 

The first thing which touched me specially was a window in one of the dens which, it seems, the young Constance would spend her youthful days. On the window, she etched her name, and her sister followed her, claiming this landscape as her own, and cementing the perception that she belonged to it, just as it belongs to her. It speaks to a sort of attachment to Lissadell, and I find it very touching, as well as very exciting that there is such a visible, physical and tangible remnant of her passage there. 

The window, and Constance's etching. Photo from here. 

The other little interesting detail I picked up was in the basement. It seems as though the Countess also had a slight attachment to Canada and, on one of the ceiling beams in the basement, are etched the shields of every Canadian province. I suppose this tugged at my heartstrings and, upon seeing the Québec shield, made me smile a grin that I'm sure my co-tourists didn't quite understand. I wish pictures had been allowed, because I could post one here, but sadly, they are not. 

Finally, I have to say that the restoration carried out to the estate since its purchase in 2003 is massively impressive. Looking at picture records, it seems as though the whole place was in quite the state of disrepair and, when I visited, had been returned to a state which was admirable. 

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07 \\ The One With The Ghost House

Ballymacool House was striking in its desolate beauty.

Ballymacool House, sitting atop Ballymacool Park, is about a 2.2 kilometers’ walk from the Letterkenny Court Hotel, where I was staying. After about a month in Dublin - interrupted by two days in Monaghan - I made my way to Donegal, by way of Bus Éireann, whose buses I would come to know very well by August. It was a rainy journey, and I finally ended up in Donegal Town, where I stayed for a night before heading on to Letterkenny. I had heard, and read, of Ballymacool House, an old, decrepit Big House on the outskirts of the town. Now, Ballymacool isn’t one of those abandoned houses that has received a lot of attention. However, it is one of the most accessible. You see, one of the things I hadn’t necessarily planned for when I set out on this project was the isolation of the Big Houses. They aren’t located near cities or towns for the most part - there are exceptions of course - but always a ways away. They are mostly surrounded by fields and trees, and accessible only by car, unless they are well-known tourist attraction. In that case, there might be a daily tour or two that will get you there (Powerscourt, for instance). Originally, I had planned on trying to find some of the most illustrious ruined houses, but I quickly found out that this would be nearly impossible by foot, and that the lack of exact coordinates made cabbing to those locations difficult, if possible at all. And this is where Ballymacool comes in.

Located in a park and close to Letterkenny made it possible for me to choose between taking a taxi there, or walking. I ended up doing both. Indeed, I went there twice. It was a rainy day again - my entire stay in Donegal was peppered with showers, and it was the only time this happened - so the prospect of walking wasn’t very appealing. The driver, however, didn’t seem to know where Ballymacool Park, or Ballymacool House, was exactly, so I ended up both at the wrong and right place. I could see the house from where I was, behind some trees, and I’m pretty sure I was located on what used to be the estate (where the gate-lodge would have been), but where, instead, now stood a housing development featuring various iterations of the same house. I also noticed that I was on a high hill, below which I could see the park sprawling from end to end, and the road right in front of it. In the overgrown grass in front of me was one or two horses, grazing lazily. Once upon a time, the grass would have been freshly cut, and the trees would have been in bloom with apples and various fruit. Or maybe flowers. The whole scene, as it was, was pretty desolate, but still strangely beautiful. It was, in light of my final paper, the essence of gothic. Through the trees, I could see that the house, while still standing, was a ghost of itself. I also thought I could discern a clear lack of roofing.

What would have been the Gate Lodge, once upon a time. Photo from here. The labeling, however, leads me to think that the original must have come from the Irish Architectural Archive, Dublin. 

Ordnance Survey depicting the Ballymacool estate, at the time very vast. Photo from here. 

Being a bit lost, I returned to Letterkenny via taxi, kind of disappointed. I was still resolved to finding the house, though, and to getting more than a partial view of it. After some careful Google mapping, courtesy of the hotel’s WiFi, and after confirming with the front desk, I figured out how to get there on foot. The rain had stopped, and there was a clear patch in the sky, so I took my chance and headed out. I immediately noted that Irish roads are much narrower than their North American counterparts. But, after little while, and after negotiating a huge group of cyclists seemingly intent on pushing me either in the middle of the road, or in the ditch, I made it to the park. It was lovely, but practically empty, save for one man walking his dog, and another with his son. I spotted the house instantly, and made a beeline for it. The atmosphere was somewhat heavy with the previous rain, and as I neared the house, I realized that I was getting further and further from the central area of the park. It was, therefore, much more silent. I could hear the distant sound of the dog barking, but not much more. No cars, no children, nothing. And then there was Ballymacool House itself, in its desolate glory.

Ballymacool had belonged to the Boyd family, and was built, it is thought, around the 1770s in its current architectural style. There was probably another house standing there before, but it would have been replaced by the new one, as would be the case with Castle Leslie a century later. There isn’t much out there about this house, but the Irish Architectural Archives do have some records - photographic - of the house in its original state. It also appeared in an article for the Weekly Irish Times in 1940.  

Ballymacool House in better days. Photo from here.

Ballymacool House in the Weekly Irish Times, Saturday 11 May 1940. Photo from here.

In 1921, a band of rebels occupied the house and, it has been said, made away with a family heirloom - a silver salver with the Boyd family crest dating from, at least, the late 1400s - leaving the structure itself intact. In 1940, as the article above was published, the house was put for sale by the family, as many Big Houses were. The next year, the new occupants felled the tree. From this point on, the house went for sale multiple times, and rumored plans of turning it into a hotel eventually popped up, but nothing ever panned out. In the end, the land was sold plot by plot, and new housing developments replaced the demesne, and some of the parkland was turned into the public park that the house overlooks. The house itself decayed considerably over the years until, more recently, according to a local, a fire brought down the roof and rendered the structure extremely unstable.

Ballymacool is a ghost of its former self, and stands as a ghastly remnant of a past some would prefer be forgotten altogether. As I climbed over the small rocky ledge to reach the level of the house, I was struck once again by the silence, and by an impression that I should not be there. There are, in fact, no rules forbidding anyone from taking a picture or standing on that ledge - though going near the house is, indeed, not recommended, and I did keep my distance because it is very unsound, structurally speaking. Again, it speaks to the ambivalent place of Big Houses in Ireland, somewhere between here and there, an anachronism in an Ireland which sees no more use in them, save for the occasional touristic attraction. As I walked back to Letterkenny, with twilight upon me, I turned back and looked at Ballymacool House and, for an instant, I could imagine it in its former glory, before it became, for all intents and purposes, a living ghost.

[thescholarlygeektwopointoh-blog]

06 \\ The One Where I Sleep in Style

After over two weeks in hostels, it took me less than fifteen minutes at Castle Leslie to decide to extend my stay. 

Castle Leslie is one of those very rare Big Houses which remains in the hands of the original family even to this day. It is also one of those Irish Big Houses which has remained close to the estate village - Glaslough - in which it is located, and which it oversaw. In fact, the relationship, back in the early twentieth-century, between landlord and tenants was such that, when threats came to the house during the revolutionary period, residents of Glaslough defended the Big House. Indeed, it was that they remembered the generosity of the Leslie family during the Famine and, as such, decided to prevent any harm from coming to their home and lands. I stayed in Castle Leslie, and on the estate, for two days, although I wish I could have stayed longer. Before I got there, however, I made a stop in nearby Monaghan Town, as there was a special exhibit on Castle Leslie at the Monaghan County Museum. I have to mention, before I mention anything else, the incredible generosity and helpfulness of the lady who was manning the museum when I went. I don't think I caught her name, which is very characteristic of me, as I tend to be really, really bad with names, but she was simply extraordinary. She gave me all the information I needed, and offered to get me the last copy of the exhibition catalog when I told her about my project. She was just amazingly nice, and chatted with me for a while. When you're in a foreign country, where you know no one, it's always a great relief to meet people like this lady. And, I have to say, there were a lot of very helpful, genuinely kind folks who helped me out throughout the trip, so shout out to them! 

The exhibit on Castle Leslie introduced me to a history populated with fascinating characters who lived in equally fascinating times. The original Leslie house was built in 1665 and, like was the case with many other Big Houses, this first iteration was destroyed in the 1870s to make way for the present Castle. In that time, generations of Leslies have lived on the estate, each with compelling stories of their own. I obviously can't go through the entire life of Castle Leslie in this one blog post, as it would be extremely long, but I'm going to pull out some highlights, and, of course, talk about my stay there. 

Now, I've been writing extensively about how Big Houses are, and were, contested spaces. Castle Leslie is no exception, but in this case, we also see this within the family household itself. Competing ideologies sometimes divided and, indeed, fragmented the family. For instance, Shane Leslie was disinherited by his father, Col. John Leslie, for his participation in the Nationalist Home Rule Party. Th estate then passed to his younger brother, Captain Norman Leslie, whose political views were more in line with those of his father. Norman, however, would eventually die in 1914 at the Battle of Armentières, and his sword of honour, given to him by the Duke of Connaught, was returned to Castle Leslie only in 1932, after it was found by a Belgian farmer on the former battlefield.

Norman and Leonie Leslie, in Cork before he left for France. Picture taken from here. 

Shane, for his part, was more of a scholar. In fact, he helped none other than Patrick Pearse in setting up St. Enda's School, and, it is said, was instrumental in saving Eamon DeValera from execution following the Easter Rising by using his American connections. He was, however, not a radical nationalist by any means, and was uncomfortable in an Ireland which had erupted in violence, something he had tried to prevent. He wrote more than fifty books, and was quite a skilled poet. He also had a fascination with ghosts and the supernatural, a fact which might seem ridiculous or innocuous but is anything but. The Big House, in Castle Leslie, exists not only in the realm of the romantic picturesque, but that of the sublime gothic as well. Within its history converge moments of great success, and even greater sorrow, moments of unity, and of fragmentation. It is a space which exists in contradictions, but manages, nonetheless, to remain in the possession of the Leslie family. Interestingly, it was said that Norman Leslie's ghost was seen on the Estate - a sight which was the source of great relief - a week only before news of his death reached the family. The Castle's link with the supernatural doesn't end there, though. A host of other ghostly presences has been reported, and another family member had a fascination with extraterrestrial life and UFOs. I, for one, did not see any ghosts, although I have to admit that the atmosphere in the castle as night can be a tiny bit eerie, especially when one knows of its history, and of its nature as a space of ambiguity. Still, perhaps that it is their very nature as liminal spaces which give Big Houses in Ireland such an easy, tight and seemingly effortless connection with the otherworldly. 

A bande-dessinée concerning UFOs found in the Castle library, and dedicated to the house's previous head by the author. 

Staying in the Castle itself, being able to explore the grounds and the estate was an incredible experience once again made that much better by a supportive, helpful, and very professional staff. The lady at the front desk gave me a quick tour of the place upon my arrival, introducing me to all of the rooms, and provided me with the transcript of a more official, lengthy tour that used to be given. I spent the two days I was there dividing my time between reading in the library - using the Castle's inventory of books on Big Houses, and on the family and estate themselves as resources - and walking the grounds, taking pictures, and trying to imagine what life would have been like years ago when the Castle existed not as a hotel, but in the context of the Irish landlord system. 

As with many other estate, there's a church on the grounds, stables, fields with beautiful horses (which I took about fifty pictures of, because they were gorgeous), a lodge, ornate gates, a water tower, and gardens. I wish I could share all of the pictures I took, but my laptop broke shortly after my return to Canada, before I had the time to do a backup, and I lost the photos from that portion of my trip, which is pretty heart-breaking. I only have those included in this article left, but if you want any more, feel free to go on the Castle Leslie website linked at the top of this post. 

This is a reproduction, in black and white, of Sir Edwin Landseer's Deer and Deerhounds in a Mountain Torrent. Another one of this artist's paintings, Stag at Bay, this one an original, hangs at Farmleigh House in Pheonix Park, Dublin.

This was much better than hostel food. 

I met this cat while I was on the estate. It belongs to the Castle's owner, but I couldn't find a name, as no one knew. So I dubbed it "bébé chat" meaning "baby cat" in French for the duration of my stay. 

At one time, the Leslie estate was comprised of over 30,000 acres in both Monaghan and Donegal. The community of Glaslough revolved almost entirely around the Big House. Nearly one hundred jobs were given in the laundry, estate offices, farm, dairy, forestry, saw mills, workshops, and gardens in addition to the thirty jobs given within the Castle. Today, the Castle has been re-purposed as a hotel, and is preserved admirably. The village still, in a way, exist in conjunction with the Big House in as much as it has become a touristic location for its visitors to frequent during their stay, although it is picturesque on its own. The history of Castle Leslie still lives on within its walls, if one is willing to look a little bit, to hunt it down on the estate's winding paths. I wouldn't trade my stay at Castle Leslie for anything, as it allowed me to get a firsthand view of the Big House life, before and after its prime. Where many Big Houses which are open only as touristic attractions allow you limited access, I was allowed to roam the Castle and its grounds freely (save, of course, for the bedrooms that weren't mine, because that would have been wildly inappropriate).

[thescholarlygeektwopointoh-blog]

05 \\ The One with the Interlude

In-between, liminal spaces are, often, much more compelling and fascinating than known spaces.

Lissadell House, former home of Countess Constance Marcievicz, occupies an interesting ideological space, having housed both landlord and revolutionary.

Perhaps that's what initially drew me to the study of the Big House in Ireland. Of course, their incredible architecture only compounded what I already saw as a complex, fascinating story which begged to be uncovered. And I, of course, always aim to please. The Big House complicates questions of identity in Ireland, and is, in many a ways, a reflection, through the cultural landscape, of the existence of the Anglo-Irish ascendancy in an "other" space belonging neither to England, nor to Ireland. While I was doing research for this project, both in Ireland and when I came back to Canada, I came across a great number of useful, inspiring, and enlightening books and articles (and also, some not-so-enlightening ones too, as is to be expected). One particular article, "Politics and the definition of National Monuments: the 'Big House Problem,'" written by Mairéad Carew, stood out for me. Sadly, I could not really use it for my final research paper, as I moved towards a literary analysis of the Big House, but I still wanted to highlight it. I first read it in Ireland, while taking a small break from the running around, and went back to it upon my return home. 

I suppose one of the catch-22 questions about Big Houses is why there isn't more done to preserve them, and why so few have been declared national monuments, despite their architectural beauty, as well as their undeniable, if ambiguous and uneasy, role in Irish history. When I was in Ireland, I took a taxi to get from the town center in Bray, Co. Wicklow, to Killruddery House, only ten or fifteen minutes from there. In the car, I told the driver about my research, and my reasons for being in Ireland. When I mentioned the Irish Big House, he replied: "There are no Irish Big Houses. Those houses are not Irish." This was probably the best reaction to my project - it demonstrated exactly how ambiguous and contested the Anglo-Irish country house was, and still is, in Ireland. 

Killruddery House, County Wicklow, home to the Earl of Meath still today.

So, why exactly are so few country houses national monuments or, at the very least, considered worthy of preservation, conservation and, in many cases, restoration? In fact, for a long time, it was decided that Big Houses - actually, only certain Big Houses - should be preserved by record, as opposed to officially preserved by the Government. Preservation by record meant that the selected buildings were measured, documented, recorded, described, and then destroyed. Indeed, in technical terms, "preservation by record" means that the site in question is preserved, essentially, on paper: the "knowledge" embedded in the site, or whatever its value is deemed to be, is preserved through records, as opposed to the site itself. In this way, preservation by record became a euphemism for destruction, as this would ultimately be the fate of even those Big Houses chosen for such a method of preservation. 

This decision was taken following the 1930 National Monuments Act, at which point a debate about Big Houses erupted on a legislative level. The Act describes a national monument in this way:

"[...] a monument or the remains of a monument the preservation of which is a matter of national importance by reason of the historical, architectural, traditional, artistic, or archaeological interest attaching thereto and also includes (but not so as to limit, extend or otherwise influence the construction of the foregoing general definition) every monument in Saorstát Eireann to which the Ancient Monuments Protection Act, 1882, applied immediately before the passing of this Act, and the said expression shall be construed as including, in addition to the monument itself, the site of the monument and the means of access thereto and also such portion of land adjoining such site as may be required to fence, cover in, or otherwise preserve from injury the monument or to preserve the amenities thereof."

The problem for Big Houses lies in both terms: monument and national. Post-1700 structures were, more often than not, disregarded in as much as they were not part of a gloriously ancient past. They were, at that time, regarded much as contemporary buildings were. This perception, in the case of country homes, was compounded by their intrinsically colonial nature which complicated their "national" character, just as it did the class to whom they belonged. This, again, can be seen in the taxi driver anecdote, and in his reaction. By no means, however, was the decision to destroy Big Houses a unanimous one. Many characters, once again, complicated this decision. For instance, Lady Gregory's place as a behemoth of Irish Literature at the time of the literary revival placed houses like hers - Coole House - at the heart of much controversy. 

Coole Park, and Coole House, as it was before its destruction. While anyone would be hard-pressed to question Lady Gregory's place in Irish national history, that of her house nonetheless is questionable, existing in an undefinable in-between space. Picture taken from here. 

Therefore, despite a rise of interest in archaeology and architecture in the 1920s and 1930s as a mark of a nation's pride in its origins, the place of the Big House remained murky. One must consider, here, the Irish struggle for national identity which was taking place at this time, in the wake of the revolutionary period. The desired emergence of an Irish Republic, the constant struggle to define what it meant to be Irish, and to establish Irishness a something unique and distinct lead to concious decisions as to what was to be included and excluded from the developing canon of Irishness. As a result, there was, it seems, a will to dismiss, or "forget", anything and everything associated with Protestant nationalism - often elided in Irish history in general. Big Houses, as a physical and symbolic representation of the Protestant Ascendancy's superiority - moral, social, cultural, and political - did not fit in the narrative for an Ireland free of British influence. 

As Carew states in the article I mentioned, the Act was a means through which national identity was consolidated through the protection of its material culture. This obviously bred mutually exclusive binaries where national subjects were deemed worthy and therefore protected and, in opposition, anti-national subjects were deemed nasty, unworthy of conservation efforts. 

The study of the Big House, then, involves both landscape studies, and memory studies. By looking at the representation of the country house in Anglo-Irish literature - therefore involving a third discipline - the possibilities become nearly endless. Most importantly, however, such a study allows to understand the fate of the Big House, and its contemporary situation in Ireland, through understanding the ways in which its inhabitants wrote it and, as such, perceived it and their own class. 

[thescholarlygeektwopointoh-blog]

04 \\ The One(s) With the National Library

"My" desk at the National Library of Ireland — the desk where I spent days reading and taking notes while sneaking glances around, hardly believing I was sitting there — was desk number 23. 

The first time I walked into the National Library in Ireland, I was actually shaking. I was so nervous, it was unbelievable. The place is beautiful, and storied, with illustrious characters - Joyce and Yeats, for instance - having written and read there. And here I was, terrified of committing a faux-pas of any kind (which, obviously, I would when I tried to take a picture inside the reading room, not knowing that it was forbidden). Despite any initial fear, however, my experience at the NLI, as a whole, was extremely positive. The staff was incredibly knowledgeable, and always willing to help. The selection of documents was astounding, and the fact that you could book them the day before, so that they would be ready upon your arrival, was pretty useful. Getting to some of the primary sources - estate records, for instance - was a bit more complicated, and I eventually had to reconsider it. However, this hurdle was quickly overcome by the wealth of rare and often impossible to find books that I got to look at. Some were anthologies of Big Houses in Ireland, others dictionaries of landed families with their estates. Some were not-so-rare, yet still useful.

This picture was sneakily taken, which is why you can see part of the desk-lamp up in the right-hand top corner. 

I started going to the National Library after the conference, and noticed that I had been taking a huge roundabout way to get there only two weeks before leaving Ireland. At that point, it had been about six weeks. Still, I loved going there, long way or short way. I would sometimes decide to cross part of Stephen's Green on the way, and stop there to eat breakfast on a bench (once, I had a bacon breakfast sandwich which was literally just bacon in a bagel - amazing). 

Then, I'd slowly make my way to the Library, feeling a great sense of anticipation at the day before me, and an amazing sense of freedom like I'd never felt before. This research project was something I had been thinking about for a while, and being there, being in Ireland, was almost too much to process sometimes. Some days, I would work on some research assistant research, perusing old periodicals and newspapers (microfiche are not my friend, it would seem, and the depiction of looking through microfiche on television is completely wrong - you never, never find exactly what you're looking for after five seconds of flicking through the roll). Other days, I'd focus on my own research. 

After a while, I had a routine down. I knew how things worked, and that felt great. I had my own desk, 23, and I knew how to work the lockers without fiddling with them. I would sometimes have lunch at the library café. It was kind of overpriced, but delicious - the one time, they had an amazing cream of tomato. And eventually, I stopped being massively impressed by the bathroom every single time I went down there. I'm not kidding. The women's bathroom, at least - can't tell for the men's - has couches. Seriously! 

Don't judge, you would have taken pictures too.

I also saw the 1913 Lockout exhibit, and the Yeats one too, both of which are definitely worth the look, if you're in the area. There's not much else to say about my research at the National Library, and yet there's also a lot. It would, obviously, be impossible for me to write down all of the notes I've taken while I was there, as there were way too many. Part of me wishes I knew what I know now, so that I could have budgeted my time better when I had access to the library, and to its resources. But the greater part of me is, regardless of wasted moments, very happy with the work I did there, fumbling around with microfiche, and ultimately asking unsuspecting neighbors for help included. 

[thescholarlygeektwopointoh-blog]

03 \\ The One With the Academic Conference

The second week of the trip, I think, is a good starting point for this blog.

That's not to say that the first week wasn't important - because, believe me, it was probably the most significant week of my trip. Research-wise, however, it wasn't very productive. Still, it's worth mentioning a few things which will give you all an idea where I was in terms of acclimating myself to Dublin. Actually, the truth is, I wasn't very far ahead in that process. I am notoriously awful at finding my way in a city, and have a propensity for getting lost. Essentially, I spent a wonderful first week with a new friend getting lost around Dublin. We managed to see a whole lot of sights - Trinity College (but not the library yet, we decided we didn't want to fork the money at that point), Stephen's Green, Saint-Patrick's Cathedral, some galleries, a few cafés, a few other churches, Grafton Street, and I'm sure I'm forgetting some. It was a lovely week, if a bit overwhelming. Adventure is not routine in my life - I tend to be a homebody. But there I was, in Ireland, with someone I'd just met, running around, getting lost, almost getting hit by cars because we kept messing up which way to look when crossing the street (which, I'm kind of ashamed to say, I would keep doing, because I'm so absent-minded). The weather was lovely, Dublin was always sunny, and it only rained once - and not for long - on that first week. Already, I loved Dublin, and thoughts of research were far from my mind. Things only really got serious on week two, when I found myself, for the most part, alone once again. 

As part of my research project, as well as in my functions as a research assistant at Concordia, I was to attend the ACIS-CAIS Conference, which was located at University College Dublin (UCD) from June 11 (Wednesday) to June 14 (Saturday). Now, I don't want to seem like newbie here but, let's be honest: I was totally new at attending academic conferences. Not only was I nervous because I had never really been to an academic conference outside of my own home university, but it was also in a part of Dublin too remote for walking. I mean, maybe I could have walked, but it would have taken forever, and I'd probably have gotten lost. The point is: bus. I had to take a bus. I've taken buses before, of course - I do live in Montreal, after all - but it's always daunting, at least for me, to rely on the public transportation system of a city you don't know. I asked one of the guys at the hostel's front desk and he helpfully pointed out which bus I had to take, and where I had to take it. Transit, for the most part, was actually pretty okay.

Finding myself on the UCD campus...well, that was a whole other story. There were signs for a few different things, and I managed to find the one for the conference I was attending, and started heading in what I thought was the general direction of whatever building I had to go to. Eventually, I found it. Then, I got lost inside that building because I have no clue how they arrange their classroom numbers. Nevertheless, after a short period of adaptation - thankfully, I wasn't necessarily excited about the first few panels, in terms of my own research, though they did seem really interesting in and of themselves - I managed to get the hang of it, and was much more effective at finding where it was that I needed to go on campus.

  I wish I could write about all of the panels I attended, because they were pretty fantastic. I also met a lot of people who were incredibly talented, smart, and welcoming. All in all, it was a wonderful experience. Sadly, I don't want this to go on too much (though let's face it, I'm a chronic rambler), so I'll just stick with what was relevant to my research, and maybe throw in one or two highlights in there.

The Politics of Remembering Chair: David Doolin (MCPHS U), Re-enacting the Fenian invasion of Canada: Public History and the Construction of Ethnic Memory for 21st Century Irish-America

Trista Doyle (Boston College), Bowen and Beckett: Technologies Of Identity And Memory

Gavin Maxwell Foster (Concordia U), Patterns and Modes of Irish Civil War (Post Memory)

Katherine Side (Memorial U), The ‘Northern Refugee Crisis’: The Politics of Remembering

Obviously, I had gone through the conference programme with my supervisor prior to my departure, and had highlighted some potential options. But, save a few exceptions, the final decision as to what panels I wanted to attend weren't really made at that point. In this case, two factors tipped the balance. For one, Professor Gavin Foster is a professor at Concordia, and I've taken three classes with him, all of which I would take again (plus, his research on the revolutionary era is fascinating). What's more, memory studies are one of my favorite things to talk and write about. Although they don't have any direct link to the research I was doing, the ways in which we remember events, people, and, indeed, the landscape, is relevant to a study of the role, tangible and symbolic, of the Big House in Ireland, both contemporary, and in the past. 

Points of Interest:

The ultimate unreliability of human and individual memory, and the role of technology in increasing this distortion of the past (Professor Doyle)

The ways in which both continuity and destruction mark a person's identity (Professor Doyle)

The Civil War started with the destruction of the Public Records Office, the largest repository of memory in Ireland at the time (what does it mean to obliterate the past in such a tangible way?) (Professor Foster)

Ambivalence and reticence towards Civil War memory and remembrance - memory can be desirable or undesirable, depending on various political, cultural and social factors (that is to say, there are things we, as societies and individuals, want to remember, and things we do not want to remember) (Professor Foster)

The past is infused with meanings: the past is inherently subjective  (Professor Foster)

The depth of the silences surrounding the past are a reflection of sentiment and/or resentment, and these silences are often perpetuated by future generations (Professor Foster)

There are various traditions of forgetting, and we sometimes engage in one which could be called "social forgetting" - once again referring to the things we choose to elide from our retelling of histories (individual, national, global) (Professor Side)

Remembering is therefore done in layers (Professor Side)

Remembering brings forward ideas of agency and victimhood, as well as characters of suspicious others, strangers, something unknown often perceived as threatening (Professor Side)

The conceptualization of home in Irish fiction

Katharina Rennhak (U of Wuppertal) Finding Home? Finding Home! Struggles With(in) the Heterosexual Matrix in Three Contemporary Novels

Elke D’hoker (U of Leuven), The Poetics of House and Home in Maeve Brennan’s Dublin Stories

Hedwig Schwall (U of Leuven), Reading Houses: Homes as condensed life histories in Deirdre Madden’s recent novels

This panel was one that I had pre-selected as being directly linked to my research topic, as it spoke to the meaning of the home, and the house, in Irish fiction. While I didn't know that I was going to be writing a very heavily-literature-based paper as a result of this field study at the time, I knew, for a fact, that there was going to be at least some literary component to it. 

Note: I lost track of the different speakers in my notes at this point, sadly, so not all of the points of interest are annotated with the speaker's name).

Points of Interest

Home is a spatial imaginary: a place to which are assigned symbolic meanings, sometimes metaphors for the nation (the house and the home as reflections of national ideals) (Professor D'hoker)

Homes as condensed life histories 

House as shelter - the house, as a space, belongs to the owner, but the owner also, in a way, belongs to the house

Ireland’s Imperial Cultures I – Home

Chair: Paul Townend (U of North Carolina Wilmington)

Stephanie Barczewski (Clemson U), Irish Country Houses and Empire, 1770-1900

Timothy McMahon (Marquette U), In Memoriam: The Assassination and Apotheosis of the Earl of Mayo

Michael de Nie (U of West Georgia), The Irish Press and Imperial Soldiering, 1882-1885

Kenneth L. Shonk, Jr. (U of Wisconsin-LaCrosse), The Shadow Metropole: The Varieties of Anti-colonial Experience in Twentieth Century Ireland, 1937-1968

This panel was, once again, pre-selected as having a direct link to my research topic, as it dealt with the link between Empire and home in Ireland. Of special interest here, then, was Professor Barczewski's paper on Irish Country Houses and Empire, 1770-1900. 

Points of Interest

There is an important distinctiveness to the relationship between Ireland and the Empire - the homes of the landed gentry were the homes of "others" (Professor Barczewski)

Irish houses [country homes] as projectors of Irish role in the Empire (Professor Barczewski)

Landlords [in Ireland] were perceived both as Irish and English by the opposing group, in that sense they occupied a liminal space on the spectrum of identity - neither completely English nor Irish, intruders in both countries (Professor Barczewski)

Land was a symbol of social prestige, but less so in terms of Irish landed estate in that they were, for the most part, less financially sound and politically problematic (Professor Barczewski)

Other Interesting Papers

Note: I'm listing only a few of the papers which were especially compelling to me, but I could have added pretty much everything that I attended.

Marguerite Helmers (U of Wisconsin Oshkosh), Voice & Identity in The Year’s at the Spring by Harry Clarke

Angela Griffith (Trinity College Dublin), The Water of Life and re-imagining ‘Irishness’; Harry Clarke’s illustrations for Messrs. John Jameson & Sons

Rhona Richman Kenneally (Concordia U), JFK and Kelloggs: Towards the Modern Kitchen in mid-twentieth-century Ireland

Michael Connerty (Dun Laoghaire Institute of Art, Design and Technology), Jack B. Yeats: Comic Artist

Ellen Mc Williams (U of Exeter), Maeve Brennan, Self-Fashioning, and the Uses of Style

Jane Elizabeth Dougherty (Southern Illinois U Carbondale), Irish Girlhood After the Boom

Declan Kiberd (U of Notre Dame), Disappearing Ireland — Tír faoi Léigear? (Plenary, day 1)

BONUS ROUND: THE ONE WHEN I STARTED BUYING ALL THE BOOKS

One of the running gags from my trip to Ireland is the fact that I, loving books, bought pretty much all of them when I was over there. In fact, I bought so many books that I had to buy not one, but two extra bags to bring them back home. Not even kidding. Some of the books had to do with my research, others with general Irish studies matters (history and art, mostly). While I was at UCD, I bought the first two of what would be many books: The Big House in the North of Ireland, by Olwen Purdue, and The Decline and Fall of the Dukes of Leinster, 1872-1948: Love, war, debt and madness, by Terence Dooley.

Both of them have to do with the topic of Irish big houses (although one in the North), so they were of at least some relevance to what I was doing. I also spotted a Spongebob book on sale, but opted against buying that one (though, let's face it, it was very tempting). 

[thescholarlygeektwopointoh-blog]

02 \\ The One Where I Explain How Nothing Went According to Plan

You know that thing about daily posts, research blogs and all of that? Well, that was a lie.

It wasn't a lie on purpose, as I had every intention of blogging my way through Ireland. But I'm sure you all know what they say about good intentions. Essentially, the fact is that nothing really went according to plan: not the research, not the itinerary, not the timetable, not the blogging. Nothing. 

I suppose that's par for the course when travelling. After all, it's often been said that the best part of adventures is that they are unpredictable, that anything can, and undoubtedly will, happen. So, let me catch you all (the few of you who are actually reading this) on what actually did happen, and what the new plan is for this blog. 

I did go to Ireland, of course - there and back again, just like a certain Hobbit in a certain book. I stayed there until the 3rd of August (having left on the 5th of June, the trip lasted just under two months), before heading to America for a few days and finally returning to my native Canada. There were many things I hadn't taken into account when I thought up this project and, specifically, this blog. I hadn't thought about all the time I would use up simply figuring where to go and, most importantly, where to get there. I hadn't thought about the time I would spend travelling from one place to another, most of time with spotty WiFi. Speaking of which, I had certainly not taken into account the fact that WiFi would be a challenge at the best of times in terms of quality. Or the fact that my laptop's charger and its adapter would break, making charging and, therefore, using, my computer for about two or three weeks. At the time, I was travelling through a series of small towns, which meant that computer repair stores which were affordable and had the equipment I needed were few and far between. Plus, time was an issue. Everything basically took more time than I had initially thought it would.

Most importantly though, I had not taken into account meeting, and subsequently making friends with, other travellers. My trip was populated with amazing and interesting folks, some of whom I knew previously - friends and colleagues (who became friends quickly). Others I would get to know over varying periods of time. This trip would not have been as amazing as it was without them, so there are no regrets on this front, even if hanging out with people did change my plans and reduce research time. 

But this blog is still here, and I'm still going to use it to log my research. Only, this will be done retroactively, rather than in realtime. I'll aim for one post every day or so, but we'll see how that goes. Right now, I'm consolidating all of my research - of which there is still a lot - and developing a thesis for the article I'm writing. I'll try and make the most of this, and also include the process of developing my article, and my argument in the subsequent posts. 

Sometimes, things just don't go according to plan. And isn't that wonderful in the end? 

[thescholarlygeektwopointoh-blog]

01 \\ The One Where I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane

(Don't know when I'll be back again). 

Hello, wonderful readers, and welcome to The Scholarly Geek 2.0. It is, as I'm writing this, one o'clock in the morning, and the last few days have been crazy, wonderful, stressful, exciting and a bit overwhelming. So please excuse any rambling (although, let's be honest, there will be some of that on this blog). It is still kind of difficult to wrap my head around the adventure that's waiting for me just around the bend - quite literally only hours away. But there it is: at the end of the day today, I will, indeed, be leaving on a jet plane. I also actually do not know exactly when I'll be coming back, so I'm basically a John Denver song (except not at all because, well, the song is kind of sad).  

Also, this is me on a plane. So you just know this is going to be a fun ride. 

So, here are the basic facts regarding what's going to be happening on this blog in the foreseeable future. Basically, The Scholarly Geek 2.0 is meant to act as a travel and research log for the duration of my stay in Ireland. While I don't have a set return date, as I mentioned already, I do know that this trip will last around sixty days, or two months. It might be longer (hopefully), but it almost certainly will not be shorter. 

I'm heading to Ireland as a woman with a mission: to work both on a field study project that I put together with a supervising professor at Concordia, and to carry out some of my duties as this same professor's research assistant. Finally, I'm also aiming to do as many touristy things as possible in the middle of all of that because if I'm going to be going to Ireland, I might as well do as much as I can because why not. 

But, what is your field study project, you ask? My personal research deals with big houses and country homes in Ireland. It aims to trace their place - symbolic and physical - in Ireland throughout the country's history. This is, truly, a multidisciplinary project which will look at and involve architecture, decorative arts, history, landscape studies, and literature. I'll be spending a lot of time visiting such properties, and, of course, looking through records and documents in various libraries. There are a few lectures, conferences and exhibitions that I plan on attending as well. 

Essentially, this blog will then be a place where I can keep a log of my progress on a daily basis. Yes, you read correctly. If all goes well, and if I run into no problems with technology and/or the wonderful world of the Internet, you can expect daily posts. I'll also include anecdotes, activities and experiences outside of academics. And there will also be pictures - as many of them as I have the time and patience to upload here. 

As an aside, please bear with me for the first few days as I try to establish a convenient and regular posting schedule.

Well, there you have it. I should probably turn in soon, as I still have quite a bit to get done before I actually leave. Including packing.

Because I wouldn't be me if I didn't pack the day of. 

   In case anyone didn't know this song, now you'll have it stuck in your head forever. You are welcome.