Threads…

A notable aspect of private paper collections, is how a person features as a thread that runs through the tapestry of a collection. We have explored this before in our post about the death of W.B. Yeats, although here it may be more intentional, as some of the correspondents’ thoughts about Macnamara are being sought for an appreciation of Frances Macnamara following his death.

The poet Francis Macnamara (1884–1946) is a small but fascinating thread running through the papers of Joseph Maunsell Hone (1882–1959) in UCD Archives. Hone was a leading figure in the Irish literary revival, and co-founded the publishers Maunsel & Company with George Roberts (1873–1953) and Stephen Gwynn (1864–1950). The company became Ireland’s largest publishing house, publishing works by all the revival’s leading figures.

Although a land owner, Mcnamara lived his life largely in poverty. His home in Doolin was burned down by Black and Tans in 1920 because of his support of Sinn Féin. He later ran Ennistymon House as an hotel, unsuccessfully. (He sold it and it is now the Falls Hotel and Spa). His letters in the Hone papers (UCDA P229/102) discuss his general misfortune including his ill-health (28 November 1918) and financial difficulties (25 February 1927). He also writes on general matters such as visiting the Hones (15 January 1920) and politics (3 December 1937). Some of the letters in this file are copies of originals written by Macnamara or to him. The file also contains drafts of an obituary and essay on McNamara, written by Hone.

UCDA P229/102 Papers of Joseph Maunsell Hone

First page of obituary for Francis Macnamara

UCDA P229/102 Papers of Joseph Maunsell Hone

First page of draft essay on Francis Macnamara

Macnamara was involved in an artistic circle that included the painter Augustus John (1878–1961). He gave up his law studies at Oxford to concentrate on writing. Macnamara is probably best known as the father of two daughters, the writer Caitlin, who married Dylan Thomas, and the artist and novelist Nicolette Devas, later Shepard, whose autobiography, Two Flamboyant Fathers (1905), discusses her difficult relationship with her father, and her life in the eccentric John household. 

Macnamara was married three times, first to Mary Yvonne Majolier in 1907 (divorced 1916), daughter of Edouard Majolier, a quaker landowner, of Congénies, near Nîmes, France. They had one son and three daughters. His second marriage to Edie McNeil in 1927, sister of John’s companion Dorelia, also ended in divorce. His third marriage was to Iris O’Callaghan in 1937, a friend of his daughter Nicolette, and youngest daughter of Col. George O’Callaghan-Westropp of Coolreagh, Bodyke, Co. Clare.

He died in Dublin in 1946 and is buried in Mt Jerome cemetery.

We might come back to Macnamara’s letters to Hone in a later post. The letters below are all written to Hone concerning Macnamara’s death. 

UCDA P229/86 Papers of Joseph Maunsell Hone

Letter from Augustus John, Fryern Court, Fordingbridge, Hampshire, UK, to William Hone, 11 March 1946.

My dear Joe,

I have just heard from Alick Schepeler of Francis’s death. What a terrible time he had of it of late! The disease, I understand, was mysterious. Although we hadn’t corresponded for many years, Francis remained a figure in my time. He had certainly depths but a certain assurance used to get in my way. When he allowed himself a drop of the ‘hard stuff’ he became more accessible and sympathetic. He wasn’t simple enough for me. I was lost in his totalitarian world. I would like to see what Usher writes about him. Give my kind regards to Usher. Tell him the portrait I did of him now hangs in the Stockholm National Gallery. Somebody gave me a translation of “Les Dames Galantes” lately with a preface by Francis. …

UCDA P229/89 Papers of Joseph Maunsell Hone

Letter from [Ernst Lewy], Woodtown Park, Rathfarnham, Co. Dublin,  to William Hone, 6 December 1947.

Dear Mr Hone, 

You can imagine how long I have thought about what your letter said to me. 

I shall try it.

The difficulties are big. I cannot say that I knew Francis well—although we I think liked each other. Generally [speaking] Francis liked only women. And looked to see around him companions of drinking. I have read again your little necrologue. Everything that can be said, is said in those few lies. I have to avoid to talk too much about myself, and to talk anything about his family life. Although these things are exciting. And important.

I shall try it. If I succeed—we shall see. It is important that Mr. de Valera will be ousted in January, as Francis’ sayings about him are most [characteristical?] and should be published.

When I have finished my few pages, I shall ask you for every line of Francis’ writing to read it. I have only 2 letters, but with this phrase: “think I shall have to sell the whole place and get into garret with nothing but a table and a chair (and no bottle!)”. Everything he wrote has a character and a charm no other people had. About Mr. Usher [Percy Arland Ussher] he said: “I taught him to keep a mistress and a cellar.”

Yours, E.L. 

UCDA P229/97 Papers of Joseph Maunsell Hone

Transcription of letter from Dr Levi [Ernst Lewy?], to Hone, undated. There are additional copies of some pages included with some of the missing words noted below but not reproduced here as they don’t change his comments about Macnamara.

Dear Mr. Hone,

… The fine letter—the birde has flowne—put before me Francis in his best. Only very seldom he was—as long as I knew him. But I always felt that he could be so. 

I have collected into my mind many biographical details of Francis. People saw him walking alone up and down the empty main street of Ennis town, up and down, and then looking from the bridge of the Falls to the house of his fathers, and weeping. I was with him, sitting on his bed, and his last wide with me, playing with the toes of his foot, and Francis crying: “That’s a kiss of Judas.”

Very slowly I have discovered the almost tragical connection of these two impressive scenes. We have in German that mean saying Die […] the rendering of which Women and drink destroy men contains nothing of the gutter-tone of the words. But it is so horribly true. At the same time the people do not dislike the man who destroys himself. Only boasting is not appreciated very highly, even happening when the man is drunk. The destruction by too much love-making is almost applauded. How other people could call making love “moral” or “immoral”, is one of the many things I never was able to understand.

Francis had in the outmost corner of his mind a queers mysticism of figures: […] and so on. I wonder if anybody guessed that.

Very truly you have called his fate and Irish fate. It is. And that is so very comforting: it is waste, and was. Facing all usefulness of the world, all purposes, atom-bombs, progress in science and all such stuff—Ireland dares to waste. …

Francis was absolutely egotistical or egocentrical. He was kind to the poor as I was told very often in County Clare, but he did now know the people he was kind to. An astonishing example was that: an old man who liked him very much (he showed me now a portrait of Francis in his best years) is a good Irish speaker, Francis did not know!!! although very much interested in Irish!!! …

Francis liked the rendering of the old stories by Lady Gregory. I don’t. I find it precious and late-Victorian. …

To end this long letter: it is true I was shown by Francis much of the real Ireland and the real Irish for he was […]. But as I never stick to the so-called educated people, going to the smallest cabins in Donegal and other where, I have met in Ireland with good things I never met before and things even Francis did not know anything of. (In County Clare I met a moan, an old Irish speaker, very much like Francis, singer, speaker, talker, dancer, almost inexhaustible, secret about the things he knows, as Francis about himself; he might be a blood relation of Francis, in feudal times landlord and farmer are very near to each other). The bourgeois varnish of Ireland is very thin, believe me.

In the end I repeat the questions of your friend: ‘is there anything…? And should you, should we not at least print a volume of letters of Francis which are, I think, much more attractive than his somewhat coquettish ‘[Werner] Review?’…

UCDA P229/163 Papers of Joseph Maunsell Hone

Letter from writer Pamela Lyndon Travers OBE (1899 – 1996) , The Pound Cottage, Mayfield, Sussex, to Hone, undated.

My dear Joe,

Your letter was a great shock to me. I knew Francis was ill and was planning to go over to Dublin for a few days to see him. I had written him all along from America, and hope I would be able to see him again. I wrote to Iris, just putting the address Sorrento Terrace Dalkey. She hasn’t replied so perhaps she did not get it. I would like to get into touch with her. And I would much like to see what you wrote in the Irish Times. The Dublin Magazine for April can’t be got here; would you send me your copy and I will faithfully return it.

You are right; the world is different without him. His was the genius of yeast, it seemed to me. And it was never mixed with the right other elements, necessary for yeast. Yet, maybe it was properly mixed, after all, for wherever it moved, it was felt and remembered and it brought about changes.

About the miscellany—it seems ironic that only when he is dead is such a thing possible. He felt, I think, that he had failed. One of quite early poems gives a clue to this. He was in one sense a very frustrated man—not by outward circumstances but by something in himself. The last time I saw him he was cross with me, for a searing moment, for not dragging his ideas out of him. His mood at that time was “Make me flower!” Everybody was required to turn warm sun upon him so that his buds could open. I understand that very well. He couldn’t get it out by his own efforts. Whether is was that he was flagging—I don’t know. I never knew him naturally when he was young so can’t tell it that was an essential need of his nature or not.

I have a lot of letters but don’t know whether any of them are right for publication. Perhaps it might be a good idea to have a number of people write about him, what he meant in the world and to them included in the miscellany. I can’t bear that his genius should be entirely forgotten. If possible, the youngest people should be asked as well, if you decide to accept this suggestion. Dylan Thomas, his son in law, for instance whose prose he so admired—and very properly too—might want to write something.

We could talk more on this through letters, perhaps. I would like to help in any way I could. I think he would like that I should—if I can be of use. …

UCDA P229/163 Papers of Joseph Maunsell Hone

Letter from PamelaTravers, The Pound Cottage, Mayfield, Sussex, to Hone, undated.

My dear Joe,

I have been reading letters I had from Francis over several years, with an eye to sending you anything you might think good. I always kept them for, apart from my affection for the writer, I always found in them some jewel that should not be lost. He was a passionate letter writer and everything he wrote, however short, was complete and whole, like a lyric. A great deal of the man went into his letters—or rather, a great deal of the many men that he was. One thing that strikes me forcibly, reading them again, is his delight at finding—himself agreed with; or, alternatively, at finding something in some letter of mine with which he could delightedly agree. He did not praise often—but when he did he did so with both hands. He had the idea when I saw him last that much might be achieved by two people writing long letters—like essays—to each other. I believe he thought at that time he had found the ideal correspondent, though I forget for the moment who it was. Perhaps all through life he was looking for that objective impersonal Correspondent who would touch off in his letters all the replies and affirmations that he, Francis, longed to make. He needed people to draw him out, insisted upon that and when I last saw him just before the war was fretful and angry that people were not digging out the jewels he knew to be hidden in his matrix. Oh, I wish he had not died just yet. I would like to have seen him once again. …

This post was written by Kate Manning, Principal Archivist, UCD Archives