Belle Isle Castle

THE PORTERS WERE MAJOR LANDOWNERS IN COUNTY FERMANAGH, WITH 11,880 ACRES

THE RT REV DR JOHN PORTER, Lord Bishop of Clogher, formerly Regius Professor of Hebrew at Cambridge, came to Ireland in 1795 as viceregal chaplain to the 2nd Earl Camden, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, 1795-98.

There was a convention that viceregal chaplains became bishops. Dr Porter, however, fared exceptionally well because, after only a two-year purgatory in the remote and undesirable bishopric of Killala in County Mayo, he was translated to the singularly valuable bishopric of Clogher, where he remained from 1797 until his death in 1819.

He married, in 1786, Mary Smith, of Norfolk, and had issue,

JOHN GREY, his heir;
Thomas, captain RN;
Charles (Rev);
Henry Edward, General in the Army;
William;
Elizabeth; Margaret.

The Bishop died in 1819, and was succeeded by his eldest son,

THE REV JOHN GREY PORTER (1789-1873), Rector of Kilskeery, County Tyrone, who wedded, in 1816, Margaret Lavinia, eldest daughter of Thomas Lindsey, of Hollymount, by his wife, the Lady Margaret Bingham, daughter of 1st Earl of Lucan, and had issue,

JOHN GREY, his heir;
Lavinia; Louisa; Elizabeth Phœbe; Emmy; Frances;
Adelaide Mary, m Nicholas Montgomery Archdale, of Crocknacrieve, County Fermanagh, who died in 1877, leaving issue. Their second son, JOHN PORTER, of Belle Isle, assumed, in 1876, the surname and arms of PORTER. 

The eldest son,

JOHN GREY VESEY PORTER JP DL (1817-1903), of Belle Isle, County Fermanagh, High Sheriff of County Fermanagh, 1844, married, in 1863, Elizabeth Jane, daughter of Richard Hall, of INNISMORE HALL, County Fermanagh.

Mr Porter dsp 1903, when the estate devolved upon his nephew,

JOHN PORTER PORTER JP DL (1853-1939), High Sheriff of County Fermanagh, 1883, who married, in 1884, Josephine Henrietta, daughter of Colonel Jesse Lloyd, of Ballyleek, County Monaghan, and had issue,

JOHN GREY ARCHDALE, DSO (1886-1917), killed in action;
NICHOLAS HENRY ARCHDALE, successor to his brother;
William Wauchope Montgomery;
Coralie Adelaide Mervyn.

Mr Porter was the second son Nicholas Montgomery Archdale, of Crocknacrieve, and Adelaide Mary his wife, fourth daughter of the Rev John Grey Porter, of Kilskeery and Belle Isle, and granddaughter of the Rt Rev John Porter, Lord Bishop of Clogher.

His brother,

NICHOLAS HENRY ARCHDALE PORTER MC JP DL (1890-1973), of Belle Isle, High Sheriff of County Fermanagh, 1941, married, in 1919, Amy, daughter of Charles B Gunther, though the marriage was without issue.

The heiress to Belle Isle was his niece, Miss Lavinia Enid Muriel Baird, only daughter of his sister, Audley Josephine, and William James Baird of Elie, Fife.

Miss Baird sold Belle Isle in 1991 to the 5th Duke of Abercorn, KG.

BELLE ISLE, one of the largest of the islands of Upper Lough Erne, County Fermanagh, is situated near the east shore of the foot of the lake; and is accessible by means of a causeway and a one-arched bridge.

Its area is 112 acres.

The Earl of Ross's former residence has been almost wholly destroyed.

When the original castle and the groves still stood, the demesne was described thus:-

Adjacent to it is another island, nearly of the same extent; and both exhibit a most agreeable prospect, being covered with thriving woods of ash, oak, beech, and firs. 

The house fronts the south, and has before it a neat lawn, ornamented with gravel walks and plantations. Immediately before it, at the distance of about three miles, stands a green hill called Knockninny, which was formerly a deer park, but is now let as a farm. 

Behind this hill the scenery consists of a greenish mountain, which appears to be cultivated to a certain height; and connected to the right with a ridge of much higher mountains, the termination of which becomes lost in the horizon. 

Immediately to the westward, within about a quarter mile of West Island, is a range of eleven other islands, all covered to the water's edge with timber, which stretches directly across the lake.

BELLE ISLE CASTLE, near Lisbellaw, County Fermanagh, is situated on an island in Upper Lough Erne.

The Castle seems to incorporate a two-storey, 18th century range with a three-sided bow at one end, to which a range of 1820-30 was added at right angles, including a staircase hall, lit atop by an octagonal lantern.

The Castle was re-fashioned after 1880 in the plain, English-Tudor manor-house style, incorporating a gabled entrance front with mullioned windows, projecting porch and a lofty, church-like battlemented tower at the corner of the 1820-30 range.

The latter range, at the garden front facing the lough, is unaltered with the exception of Victorian, plate-glass windows; and Georgian astragals at one end.

Inside the Castle, an oak staircase with barley-sugar balusters replaced the original stairs; and the walls were panelled with oak, too.

The octagonal ceiling lantern was left undisturbed.

In 1907, the entrance front was prolonged by a wing in the Tudor style containing a long, tall gallery with a timbered roof, an elaborate fireplace and a minstrels' gallery.

At this end of the entrance front there is a pedimented and gabled office wing, possibly 18th century.


BELLE ISLE is almost surrounded by the waters of Upper Lough Erne and at one time was an island.

It is reached via a bridge and the approach to the Castle is a straight avenue.

The original castle dates from 1629 and the present house was created round the core during the mid-19th century.

It is sited in a glorious position of great natural beauty, which has long been acknowledged. Loudon in his Encyclopedia of 1825 remarks that there were 200 acres:

‘… charmingly diversified by hills, dales and gentle declivities, which are richly clothed with old timber through which gravel walks are constructed, and a temple erected, from which a panoramic view is obtained, not only of this but all the other wooded islands of the lough. One of them is exclusively used as a deer park …’. 

Parkland still sweeps down to the lough shore, though the temple has gone.

As well as good stands of parkland trees, there are mature shelter belts and wooded areas.

Early 20th century ornamental gardens at the house have been grassed over.

There is a walled garden.

Two substantial gate lodges were built at the same time as the house was restored and extended.

The original Belle Isle estate came on the market in 1830.

Since the Plantation, it had belonged to the GORE BARONETS of Manor Gore, County Donegal.

The last of this branch of the Gore family was Sir Ralph Gore, 6th Baronet, later Earl of Ross and Viscount Belleisle (1725-1802).

He had greatly ornamented the pleasure grounds, particularly with follies and garden buildings designed by the well-known Thomas Wright, but the main house was still the modest lodge built by his father in ca 1720.

Lord Ross had died without legitimate issue, leaving Belle Isle to his natural daughter, Mary, wife of SIR RICHARD HARDINGE, 1ST BARONET.

Lady Hardinge died in 1824; Sir Richard in 1826.

His nephew and successor, the Rev Sir Charles Hardinge, 2nd Baronet, of Tunbridge, Kent, had no connection with Ireland and presumably no interest in Belle Isle.

Accordingly, in 1830, Sir Charles and his trustees sold the entire Belle Isle estate, consisting of the manors of Belle Isle and Carrick, together with a small leasehold addendum acquired by Sir Ralph Gore, 4th Baronet, in 1724, to the Rev John Grey Porter of Kilskeery for £68,000.

In the 1830s, the Rev John made further extensive purchases of land, in both counties Fermanagh and Longford, this time from the 2nd Earl of Belmore.

The Fermanagh lands alone had a rental of £1,869 a year and cost him £75,000.

The combined rental of all these estates (Belle Isle included) was about £6,750 a year - a staggering scale of acquisition (even for one whose father had been in possession of the income of the bishopric of Clogher for 22 years), the more so as the Bishop and the Rev John Grey Porter had each in their time to make provision for six younger children.

Belle Isle remained in the ownership of the Porter family until 1991, when Lavinia Baird sold the estate to the 5th Duke of Abercorn KG.

The Duke bought Belle Isle for his younger son, Lord Nicholas Hamilton.

The Abercorns admirably transformed Belle Isle into a truly wonderful 470 acre estate with holiday apartments, cottages, a cookery school and the Castle itself.

One interesting feature on the estate is the new wood pellet burner. Belle Isle Castle currently consumes approximately 25,900 litres of oil per annum which should be reduced by approximately 85% with this new system.

A certain amount of oil is still  required to fuel the Aga cookers. The 22,000 litres of oil will be replaced by approximately 53 tonnes of wood pellets (based on approximately 2.4kg of wood pellets replacing 1 litre of oil).

Belleisle Estate was sold to the Crawford family in 2024. 

 First published in January, 2011.

Belle Isle: Epilogue

Esmond Brown with Lavinia Baird at Belleisle Courtyard, 1972

JULIAN BROWN'S FINAL INSTALLMENT ABOUT LIFE AT BELLE ISLE, AND FOND MEMORIES OF NICHOLAS PORTER AND LAVINIA BAIRD

It was quite by chance, when browsing on the Internet one evening, that I came across your blog and article about Belle Isle.

It was extraordinary that I should stumble upon it at that time, for the article had only just been posted. 

I made contact with your good self and explained I had been brought up in Belle Isle Castle.

I was most surprised by your interest.

I owe you a real debt of gratitude for the encouragement that I should share some of my recollections and you have been very kind in publishing a number of these articles.

I had been meaning for years to put down on paper all that I remembered of what had been an extraordinary upbringing and you have given me the push I needed to do just that.

 I am the only one who remains from that period, with the exception of my brother Gerald who came on the scene from 1959 onwards.

I have decided to make this my last article.

I want to stop before someone asks me to shut up!

I thought it would be appropriate that these last recollections should be about Nicholas Porter, Lavinia Baird and Belle Isle itself.

*****

NICHOLAS HENRY ARCHDALE PORTER

Nicholas Porter had been educated at public school in England.

As a young man, he had worked with horses in Argentina.

When World War One broke out, Nicholas returned and fought alongside his elder brother, John Grey Porter. 

They were posted together with the 9^th Lancers.

Nicholas’s brother was second-in-command but was killed in a battle at Cambria.

Nicholas was shot in the same action and lost the use of one of his arms, but survived.

Nicholas also had a younger brother, William Waucoup; and two sisters, Audley Josephine and Coralie, better known as Cosie.

William Waucoup died at Belle Isle when he was aged fifteen, from appendicitis.

Of Nicholas’s sisters, Audley Josephine married James Baird, a Scottish landowner from Fife; and her daughter, Lavinia, became the next heiress to Belle Isle. 

The estate was entailed, Nicholas Porter had no children and, ultimately, Lavinia succeeded him in 1973.

The second sister, Coralie, married twice. Her first husband was Sir Merrick Burrell. 

There are photographs of the glittering wedding party at Belle Isle around 1920.

Coralie’s second marriage was to Captain Richard Outram Hermon of Necarne Castle in Irvinestown (formally Castle Irvine), who’s own history became closely associated with Belle Isle in later years.

Nicholas had become the heir to Belle Isle upon the death of his elder brother, John Grey, and inherited in the 1930s when his father, John Porter Porter, died. 

By this time the demesne of Belle Isle had reduced to around 450 acres.

Nicholas had been married as a young man but his wife, Amy Gunther, died in the 1930s.

He never remarried.

*****

MY PERSONAL MEMORIES OF NICHOLAS PORTER

Nicholas was every inch the country gentleman, a very courteous and charming man.

He was typically dressed in tweeds and always wore a tie and jacket.

Nicholas sported a moustache and beard, had a sunny disposition, a twinkle in his eyes and was liked throughout the county. 

He always carried a very large, brightly coloured silk handkerchief and was known to produce one with a flourish in St Michael’s Church at Derrybrusk on Sundays and blow his nose loudly, much to the amusement of the assembled congregation!

The Belle Isle Pew was at the front of the church on the left hand side.

As a child I often accompanied Mr Porter to church and sat with him.

Not by choice, I might add, but it was one of the things Mr Porter was particular about. 

With the exception of Nicholas Porter, the Belle Isle household was not a church-going one.

I think he saw me as a young heathen, in need of Christian instruction, and I was marched off to church on a regular basis!

Nicholas's sneezes and nose-blowing used to make me squirm in church because I knew all eyes were looking at our backs.

Nicholas, however, was blissfully unaware of the effect this simple act caused.

He was confident and secure in his position and gave the service his full attention!

Nicholas Porter was easy going and had a tolerant and understanding nature: The matter of attending church was an exception.

He did have one other eccentricity: he would sometimes insist that every young person who happened to be on the Island of Belle Isle salute him if he drove past in his Land Rover or car. 

Other times he did not bother!

On one occasion, walking home from school and self-absorbed, I neglected to salute and received a severe ticking off - not from him directly but from my mother, to whom he had complained.

I did, however, have an affectionate relationship with Nicholas Porter as a boy.

I would tramp round the fields with him when he went on his regular inspections around the place at that time.

He often walked round the fields and took a great interest in everything that was going on. 

He would sometimes take me into Lisbellaw, the village a few miles distant from the castle, in his Land Rover when he drove there to pick up his newspapers.

Almost inevitably he would buy me some sweets in Nawn's. 

He was always good to me and I spent a lot of time in his company when I was small.

I often went to talk to him in the morning- room at Belle Isle Castle where he had his desk and wireless.

It was his favourite room and the one he used most of all.

*****

LAVINIA ENID MURIEL BAIRD

Nicholas Henry Archdale Porter was without issue.

The estate of Belle Isle had been entailed for three generations.

The third generation and Nicholas’s heiress was his niece, Lavinia Baird.

Lavinia’s father was William James Baird, of Elie, Fife in Scotland.

Her mother was Audley Josephine Porter, Nicholas Porter’s sister, who had been raised at Belle Isle. William and Audley were married in 1918.

William was a member of the Baird shipping family and he inherited the Elie Estate at Fife in Scotland. 

William James and Audley Josephine were divorced after eighteen years in 1936. Lavinia, who had been born in 1923, was fifteen years old when her parents parted.

Audley Josephine relocated to Rutlandshire.

Lavinia was brought up at Elie and subsequently in Rutlandshire.

In her adult life Lavinia became involved with St John’s Ambulance and was the County Superintendent of St John’s Ambulance Brigade between 1955 and 1957.

She was invested as an officer of the Most Venerable Order of the Hospital of St John of Jerusalem in 1956. 

She was also Staff Officer to the Superintendent in Charge between 1959 and 1960.

She worked closely with Lady Mountbatten.

I recall my mother telling me Lavinia had been Lady Mountbatten’s aide-de-camp and travelled extensively with her all over the world. 

Lavinia apparently had dined at Buckingham Palace and was acquainted with the Queen.

Lavinia also kept a bolt-hole in London at Ashley Gardens.

*****

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF LAVINIA BAIRD

The first I knew of Lavinia were comments overheard at Belle Isle at the time when her mother, Audley Josephine, died in 1952.

Lavinia was reputed, at that time, to have said “Oh, it is just one of those things!” 

The general opinion was that she must be a cold fish indeed! However, because Miss Baird was the heir to Belle Isle, she could not be ignored.

Large wooden crates started to arrive at Belle Isle in the 1950s.

These were deposited in the empty seventeenth century wing.

They contained items from the properties that Lavinia had sold in Scotland and Rutland and that she intended to relocate to Belle Isle.

My father was charged with unpacking some of them.

It was a delicate task for they contained, among other things, complete dinner services of enormous proportions and porcelain objects d’art.

I remember that in many instances they were lovely.

What I would not have appreciated at that time was that they were probably worth a fortune!

Lavinia had started to come and stay at Belle Isle regularly and these visits increased as the years went on.

She was installed in the blue bedroom overlooking the Lough and I was kept out of the way when I was little.

I remember hearing her voice which was very posh!

The most clipped and refined tones of the Queens English; a lazy, well-modulated drawl!

I eventually met Lavinia and she turned out to be very nice indeed.

She had a ready laugh, a terrific sense of humour and was as sharp as a needle!

She was genuinely interested in everything and everyone. 

She took a shine to my mother and my father had a great respect for her.

Lavinia became involved in Belle Isle many years before Nicholas Porter died and spent a lot of money on the fabric of Belle Isle even before she inherited it. 

Her involvement in the local farming community in Fermanagh is well documented, so I will not repeat those details here.

Instead here are some amusing anecdotes extracted from a chapter I have written about Lavinia Baird.

My mother, Pearl, and Miss Baird got on very well; Lavinia would follow my mother around as she worked, chatting away to her.

I wished I had taken more notice of the tales my mother told me at the time.

Lavinia could be heard from quite a distance, “what should we do with this Purll?” or “I rather like that, Purll, do you think it might do?” 

My mother’s name Pearl translated by Lavinia’s dulcet tones into Purll and sounded very grand!

My mother would invariably agree, “I think that is just right, Madam,” or something along those lines. 

It would be wrong to say my mother always agreed: she would give her opinion freely, but often she would go with the flow; she had learnt that ‘madam’ would do as she wanted anyway.

It was amusing to watch Lavinia and my mother together, for my mother would be trying to get on, or reach a point where she could nip out for a cigarette; however madam tended to follow her around...

Huge changes were made in the castle by Miss Baird: The old kitchen was replaced by a new one which was now located in what had been the old servants hall.

The logic behind this was that it was nearer the Gallery and Miss Baird wanted to make the gallery into her dining-room. 

The old dining-room became her drawing-room. Furniture was relocated on a grand scale and everything was moved.

The doors to the rooms in the front hall, and on the upstairs landings, were stripped down to bare wood.

Miss Baird was always talking about the ongoing renovations and asked me once what I thought of the stripped doors.

I was honest and said I did not think they suited the place. Madam was sniffy!

My mother said later that I should just have agreed that they were lovely; madam was going to do what she wanted anyway!

And finally an amusing story told by Miss Baird: on the occasion in question Miss Baird, my mother and I were standing in front of the old dining-room drinks' cupboard.

My mother had been doing some work in the dining-room and I was with her; Miss Baird had made an appearance and, after some general chit-chat, told us a tale concerning her grandmother Josephine Porter at Belle Isle in the past:- 

In the 1920s a house maid at Belle Isle was cause for concern, she appeared to be ‘slightly under the influence’ sometimes, but never bad enough for Mrs Josephine Porter, Nicholas Porter’s mother, or the Housekeeper, who at that time was Daisy McDougal, Dougie’s aunt, to be sure. 

She did her job well enough and could not be faulted but seemed to slur her words occasionally and miss the odd step!

And she smelt of onions!

The story was not exceptional but the telling was hilarious because the very aristocratic and well spoken Miss Baird adopted a slight stagger and started to slur her words, “I never did, madam. I don’t know what you can be thinking, I ain’t done nothing wrong.” 

The upshot of the story was that the maid had been taking the odd ‘nip’ and replacing the spirit with water.

As the need increased so did the watering! 

To the horror of Mrs Porter having dispensed drinks to guests on a social occasion in the 1920s the ruse came to light: "Did you put some water in my Gin, Josephine; I really think it is a bit orf!” 

Mrs Porter was mortified that she was serving watered drinks!

Needless to say the maid was dismissed and the spirit cupboard was locked from then on!

*****

THANK YOU for reading my little articles.

I hope they have provided some flavour of a time that has gone forever and trust that I have not disturbed the peace of those who have gone before. 

First published in April, 2010.

Belle Isle: VII

JULIAN BROWN RECALLS VISITS TO NECARNE CASTLE, COUNTY FERMANAGH

I have written earlier about being brought up at Belle Isle Castle and of the occupants of that beautiful place whom I knew as a child.

I am now writing all of my recollections of Belle Isle, Necarne, Corrard, and Ireland in those days, and the following is an extract from my memories concerning Necarne.

I have always been fascinated by big houses and stories of people who lived in them.

Perhaps it was growing up at Belle Isle that kindled this interest but it has always been with me.

My first memory of Necarne was gossip overheard in the Belle Isle kitchens. 

Mr Hermon had sold all the furniture! The roof was leaking!

There were hens roosting in the drawing-room at night!

I had no idea what Necarne looked like except that it was a castle and Mr Hermon used to live in it.

Until one day, when I was a small boy, my father had to call at Necarne and took me along in the Land Rover for company.

I will never forget the first time I saw the castle: My father drove through the large gates and entered the grounds; he drove along the avenue and, coming suddenly round a bend and through some trees, it was there. 

I was enthralled.

A long and battlemented building, honey coloured, with a row of gables running along the top; turrets at the ends and round towers rising behind the body of the castle.

I saw tall chimneys, arched windows and massive doors.

The Land Rover kept moving but I was pressed to the window, trying to take it all in. It was wonderful.

I would have loved to get closer to it but Esmond would have none of that. 

He picked up what he came for and we left by the back road, that was all I saw of Necarne for years; but my curiosity was fully aroused.

In the years to come, I learned a great deal about Necarne and spent many memorable times there... 

*****

THE FOLLOWING IS A FURTHER EXTRACT FROM THE LAST PART OF MY NECARNE CHAPTER

Porter of Belle Isle

WHEN Nicholas Henry Archdale Porter died in 1973, Vida Leigh and Tiggy Brunt moved from Belle Isle Castle to Necarne and lived with Captain Richard Outram Hermon.

The place of residence was not Necarne Castle itself but a lovely house beside it known as the Gardener's House, a fine Georgian building, beautifully proportioned and elegant. 

I believe it would originally have been the Dower House.

I was now living in England and it was strange coming back to Ireland knowing that my old friends were no longer at Belle Isle.

When I came home in August 1974, Vida invited my parents, Esmond and Pearl; Paul, an English friend of mine; and me, to dinner one evening at Necarne.

We arrived at the Gardener's House on a warm and sunny summer evening.

This was the first time I had seen the house: It was a solid two storey Georgian structure with a central door to which Richard Hermon had added pillars, for no other reason but to make the house look more imposing. 

There were casement windows, one either side of the front door and three above.

The house had an elegant drawing-room of a good size, a small dining-room and an old-fashioned kitchen.

There was a further back kitchen and another small room downstairs. 

We sat in the drawing-room for drinks and Vida and Tiggy seemed perfectly happy and adjusted to their new home.

Dick Hermon was present and perfectly agreeable, he had always got on with my father and they chatted away about farming.

The drawing-room had two sofas and some chairs set around a marble fireplace.

There were little tables scattered about and a small desk in a recessed side window alcove.

Mahogany shelving had been fitted on the back wall and was filled with books. 

There was a gilt-edged mirror over the fireplace and some of Vida Leigh’s paintings on the walls - two interior views of Belle Isle and a portrait of Nicholas Porter.

Vida very kindly gave me a copy of one of the paintings of the hall at Belle Isle Castle.  

We all crowded into the small dining-room: a circular table surrounded by chairs, a sideboard and a crystal chandelier over the table.

There was a hatch between the dining-room and kitchen and Tiggy pushed the food through and served the meal.

We had braised duck and a selection of vegetables followed by a summer pudding. 

The pudding was made from fresh raspberries and blackcurrants soaked in wine and packed into a brown bread mould and chilled.

It was a lovely meal.

Vida chatted throughout the dinner and explained how she had prepared the dishes.

On the way home in the car later, my mother laughingly told us that Vida had not prepared anything.

She liked to take credit but Tiggy had done the work! 

It was always the same. My mother knew Vida through and through and was familiar with her ways.

Dear Tiggy had smiled demurely and said nothing!

It would be wrong, however, to give the impression that Tiggy was slighted.

The sisters were devoted and Tiggy understood her sister’s need for glory!

The walls of the long and narrow hall in the Gardener's House were covered with row after row of framed 18th and 19th century political cartoons that had been on the walls of the landing above the Tudor Gallery in Belle Isle Castle.

Lavinia Baird had disliked them and gave them all to Vida Leigh in the 1970s.  

While the party was talking after dinner I wandered across to the castle.

It was still light and the sun shone on the beautiful stonework.

It was, on close examination, a sorry sight: the glass was missing from some of the windows and I leaped over one of the sills and entered a large room. 

There was evidence of water damage everywhere, ceilings were hanging down; there was debris and muck on the floors.

Doors were missing and there were signs of vandalism.

Everywhere was desolation and damage.

There were traces of wall coverings, carvings, mouldings and intricate plasterwork.

It had clearly been a beautiful place.

A voice shouted through the window.

It was Tom McKervey, the old butler.

He was retired but still lived nearby.

I knew Tom well from my childhood and he greeted me warmly but added a warning; “don’t go up the stairs, the floors are rotten and it is dangerous.” 

I could not resist a look.

Gingerly I made my way to a landing which was even more depressing.

Tiggy told me, on a later occasion, that around that time some children ran amok in the derelict castle and tossed loose and crumbling stonework from the battlemented towers into the gardens below. 

The castle’s windows were boarded up to preserve what was left.

It was a sorry end to one of Fermanagh’s beautiful buildings.

Later that evening, we sat in the drawing-room and then Vida jumped up and said “come on,” we all followed her and trooped upstairs to her bedroom.

Vida reclined on the bed and we all sat around.

Some more drinks were produced and we chatted for a couple of hours. 

It was like old times at Belle Isle, Vida had always enjoyed holding court in her room.

It was a lovely room, too, but nothing compared to the one she had used at Belle Isle.

We were shown round the upstairs rooms and Vida remarked on a tapestry on the wall in Mr Hermon’s room.

It was old and had been with him at the castle.

I wish I had paid more attention because I cannot remember what she said, but I think it may well have been Gobelins. 

Apparently it was one of the few possessions he had retained from the castle.

Richard Hermon had been in an affable mood all evening and I broached the subject of the castle.

He said that it was not practical after the war to keep it up and it was no good rattling around a place like that on your own. 

I knew better than to pursue the matter but do recall Lavinia Baird saying once that had Mr Hermon spent a couple of thousand pounds when the roof started to leak and, repaired, it would still be sound.

She said it would now cost a fortune to bring it back.

At the end of a most enjoyable evening at Necarne, we made ready to leave.

Again, this is a memory that sticks in my mind: we walked along in front of the gardener's house, passing a small ornate stone wall; there was a donkey on the grass behind it.

It was a clear, silent night and Vida linked arms with my father as we walked back to the car.

Tiggy was chatting to me; we all embraced and said good night. 

I never saw Vida again.

In the next year she developed a swelling on one of her legs, she was taken into hospital in Omagh, County Tyrone; she died shortly afterwards.

The period that followed was interesting, because Richard Hermon had always admired Vida but had tended to be a little distant from Tiggy.

Now they were left alone together they got on remarkably well. 

I saw them out driving on a couple of occasions together.

Richard Hermon died in June 1976 and left the Necarne Estate to Tiggy’s nephew, Pierce Brunt.

Vida and Tiggy had a brother, Nigel, who never came to live in Ireland but had visited occasionally. Pierce was his son. 

 

Richard Hermon had arranged that Tiggy (right) was to be able to remain in the Gardener's House for the rest of her life.

Tiggy remained at Necarne for some years.

I always went to see her when I was in Ireland and we kept up a correspondence.

She was always cheerful and amusing but it must have been lonely for her though she never said so. 

She took on a lease of life for a while after Richard Hermon’s death and would take herself into Enniskillen and have her hair done!

Soon she settled into a quiet existence with her little dog.

She only had one now: Penny, a brown and white Jack Russell terrier.

There were still people around Irvinestown and Necarne who had worked for Richard Hermon, and they were good to Tiggy. 

I saw Tiggy a few more times, once my sister Audrey and two of her young children came with me, Helen and James.

Helen sat close to her mother and James played with the dog.

We were in the kitchen of the Gardener's House.

It was an old-fashioned room with a range, a flagstone floor and large cream-coloured glass-fronted cupboards full of blue and white china.

On one wall behind a sheet of glass were a series of impressionist watercolours. 

They had been in the summer-house at Mullaghmore originally and belonged to Vida.

I remember Vida telling me they were French.

I recall them distinctly: they were all of a young fair-haired man standing among flowers and shrubs in an idyllic landscape. 

I have a feeling they will turn up on an antiques programme one day and be worth a fortune!

Tiggy was delighted to see Audrey; they had always been friends.

Tiggy laughed and said “You were always slimming Audrey when you were growing up, look at you now, seven children later and still slim!”

Audrey laughed and responded, “Oh no!” Tiggy smiled and said “There’s not a scrap on you!”

They chatted on in this vein quite happily and I took some pictures.

The last time I saw Tiggy we spent several hours together in her kitchen, she brought out a box of old photographs and there were some fascinating glimpses of the past, including a series of pictures of the interiors of Alton Castle in the 1920s; and one picture of Nicholas Porter as a young man standing in front of Belle Isle wearing a cape, standing with his arms outstretched and bowing slightly.

He looked very whimsical, perfectly capturing the spirit of the ‘bright young things’ of the 1920s.

I wish I had asked for a copy, it was so striking.

Tiggy made some tea and produced cakes, and then we went for a short walk by the castle with the little dog.

Tiggy was so sympathetic for everyone else: “Poor Vida, how difficult it was for her, in her last days;” and “Dear Richard, he did miss Vida so.”

Never any complaint about her own situation.

We said good-bye at last and I promised to call again soon, but it was not to be. 

Tiggy died within the year and I never went back to the gardener's house.

I hope someone at Necarne looked after little Penny, but I feel sure they did.

First published in April, 2010.

Belle Isle: VI

JULIAN BROWN REMEMBERS THE  1ST EARL MOUNTBATTEN OF BURMA

I have previously written that the Belle Isle people travelled to the west coast of Ireland each year, from 1950 onwards, to holiday at Captain Hermon’s house at Mullaghmore in County Sligo, Southern Ireland.

Since the partition of Ireland, the north was becoming prosperous and changes could be seen everywhere. 

But, at that time, the south was set in the past: Ireland was now divided into Northern Ireland and the newly established Irish Free State.

Barriers and customs posts were set up at the border.

In the south, road signs were changed into Gaelic, the countryside began to look subtly unfamiliar.

The west coast of Ireland, in the 1950s, was a world where time had stood still.

Dry stone walls divided small fields; white-washed, thatched cottages were commonplace.

The southern towns were old-fashioned and picturesque, cars were rarely to be seen. 

There was no television service and few homes had electricity.

The rural south of Ireland had hardly changed in a hundred years.

Most of the people led simple, uncomplicated lives.

A common sight, on the narrow roads, was donkeys and carts, carrying creels of turf.

It was a world of immense charm and innocence.

This may seem strange, given the history of Ireland; but it was essentially true.

Captain Richard Outram Hermon, of Necarne Castle (Dick Hermon, to those around him) bought his house near Lord Mountbatten’s castle, Classiebawn, which had belonged to Edwina Mountbatten's family. 

Lady Mountbatten had inherited Classiebawn and ten thousand acres of land in County Sligo from her grandfather, Sir Edward Cassel, who had been one of the richest men in the world and a friend of King Edward the Seventh at the turn of the century.

Captain Hermon chose Mullaghmore because of his friendship with Lord Mountbatten.

They were both keen sportsmen, and shot and fished together. 

Captain Hermon and Lord Mountbatten both kept sea-going boats at Mullaghmore. 

A friendship developed between Lord Mountbatten and the rest of the Belle Isle household; he was sometimes their guest for dinner.

Lord Mountbatten repaid the compliment on more than one occasion. 

Indeed, Lord Mountbatten wrote the forward to Vida Leigh’s book about her mother that she wrote following the death of Mrs Brunt, ‘Mary Bright of Fiddler's Green.’

Lord Mountbatten’s contribution was handwritten on Classiebawn headed notepaper. 

I recall a visit to Classiebawn Castle as a very small boy, sitting in a car outside the castle.

I retain an impression of grey walls, lichen, turrets and small trees in tubs, but not much more.

My father had called for some reason on one of the Sundays when we were at Mullaghmore. 

I have a recollection of being out in a boat at Mullaghmore with my father, Captain Hermon, Mr Porter and others.

They were very fond of fresh mackerel at Mullaghmore.

It was held that mackerel had to be eaten when they were freshly caught, because they were scavengers and it was unwise to keep them! 

They were often fried in butter very simply and delicious!

Another way of cooking them was by coating them in oats and then baking them in the oven.

Miss McDougal, the old cook at Belle Isle, was fond of using oats in cooking; it must have been her Scottish upbringing. 

It was rare for Miss McDougal to get her hands on fresh mackerel; she could only really obtain these if the household returned from Mullaghmore with some that had been caught that morning. 

On Sundays, lunch was always a happy occasion at Mullaghmore: Everyone would sit down and dine in view of the sea through the large plate glass windows.

Sometimes lunch was served by a butler, as far-fetched as that sounds! 

Tom McKervey had been Captain Hermon’s butler at Necarne Castle in the days when the castle was occupied.

Captain Hermon continued to employ Tom after he abandoned Necarne Castle, and retained Tom’s services till the day he died.

Tom took on many roles in later years but he was always Richard Hermon’s loyal servant. 

Tom did, when required, still attire himself in black jacket, waistcoat, striped trousers and wait on table; sometimes at Mullaghmore; and sometimes his services were used at Belle Isle if there was an occasion that called for the old razzmatazz! 

There was a different cook at the Mullaghmore house during the summers: her name was Maggie and she had worked for Captain Hermon in the castle at Necarne in the past.

I remember nosing about in the kitchen at Mullaghmore while she was there and she was very kind to me. 

As usual I got under everyone’s feet and had to stick my nose in everywhere!

In any event, Miss McDougal never had leave from Belle Isle to cook at the holiday house.

Just as well or she would have had a blue fit! 

The trips to Mullaghmore on the coast continued for some years, as Audrey (right) and I were growing up.

In 1964 I left Ireland, like countless thousands of young Irish men before me, to work in England. 

I went back to Ireland often, and made what was to be to be my final visit to my old Belle Isle friends at Mullaghmore in 1965.

I was seventeen, a lanky, awkward and sallow youth. 

I remember this occasion vividly: Vida Leigh took my mother, father, Audrey and Tiggy on a drive around the coast road; I don’t recall where Dick Hermon and Nicholas Porter were, but old Mrs Brunt and I were left alone, sitting in the porch, overlooking the sea. 

We were old friends and easy with each other.

Gigi made polite conversation, how did I enjoy England? Had I made friends? Would I come back to Ireland?

She looked at me closely and, smiling at me, took my hand, “I have known you since you were born Julian, you must not let England spoil you, you know, do not lose touch with Ireland and your mother, you must always come back.”

I remember this clearly, it was one of those moments.

 I recall looking closely at Gigi and registered how old she had become.

Her hair was still chestnut in colour, but her eyes were yellow and tired.

She was 87 years old. 1965 became 1966. 

I was at work in Hatfield, near London, when the telephone rang one morning: it was a payphone in a passage on a wall outside for the use of staff.

“It’s for you Jules,” I left what I was doing and went to the phone, it was my mother.

She told me quietly that Gigi had died peacefully in her sleep the evening before, on New Year’s Day, 1966. 

It was the end of an era, the Belle Isle folk never returned to Mullaghmore. 

In 2008, in summer Audrey and I returned to Mullaghmore with Audrey’s husband, Jack, and her daughters Caroline and Jackie.

I was sixty years old and Audrey was fifty five.

We walked round the harbour and had something to eat in what had been Peter’s public house, all those years ago. 

It bore no resemblance to the old inn of the 1950s, and had changed beyond recognition; it was clean and modern and bright and welcoming, but no trace remained of how it had been before.

It was a different world.

Mr Hermon’s house was still there on the hill; it belonged to someone else now.

We drove up to the gates and sat for a minute or two in silence, remembering. 

It seemed smaller and greyer and strange; there was nothing for us there, no trace of what had been, the sheet had been wiped clean; and I remembered Tiggy’s words to me at Necarne, when she was talking about Belle Isle, “You can never go back to the past.” 

It was a page from another time and no-one standing on that hill now would know how it had been back then. 

Audrey

I can still see my sister Audrey, running along a stone wall beside the beach at Mullaghmore in 1958.

Our father would be teasing her; they played a little game, time and time again. “Audie, two!” 

She would shake her head and respond, “No, Audie three!” young Audrey was the apple of Esmond’s eye and the age game was played often, but Audrey knew she was three!

“Come on Juna!” she would shout excitedly, as she ran to the beach. 

I was ‘Juna’ to Audrey and the beach was waiting!

All those who laughed and danced and walked on the sand and paddled in the sea, with the wind in their faces, have gone.

Esmond and Pearl, Nicholas Porter and Richard Hermon, Vida Leigh and Gigi and Tiggy - and Audrey. 

My beloved sister Audrey was dying from lung cancer when she made the last visit to Mullaghmore.

She died on 22nd January, 2009.

First published in March, 2010.