Na Píobairí Uilleann

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An Píobaire

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7 4 23 20110920 23 struction at his lodgings at 30 Cornmarket. All of these locations are close to the ancient heart of Dublin. In January 1994, in An Píobaire 3.17, Seán Donnelly contributed a further piece including advertisements from different newspapers recording Talbot’s teaching and performance in Kilkenny and Roscrea in 1784/5, and per- formances in Tralee in 1845, sixty years later! Based on the probability that the accounts do refer to the same man, Seán suggests that the references to the year of his birth as being 1780 are incorrect, and that he must have been born a couple of decades earlier and survived as a performer into his eighties. Both of Seán’s ar- ticles can be found on our website. The brief notices by Grattan Flood, and the longer piece by the novelist Carleton are given hereunder. TERRY MOYLAN THERE was some years ago, playing in the taverns of Dublin, a blind piper named Talbot, whose performance was singu- larly powerful and beautiful. This man, though blind from his infancy, possessed mechanical genius of a high order, and surprisingly deli- cate and exact manipulation, not merely as a musician but as a mechanic. He used to per- form in Ladly’s tavern in Capel-street, where he arrived every night about eight o’clock, and played till twelve, or, as the case might be, one. He was very social, and, when drawn out, pos- sessed much genuine Irish humour and rich conversational powers. Sometimes, at a late period of the night, he was prevailed upon to attach himself to a particular party of pleasant fellows, who remained after the house was closed, to enjoy themselves at full swing. Then it was that Talbot shone, not merely as a com- panion but as a performer. The change in his style and manner of playing was extraordinary: the spirit, the power, humour, and pathos which he infused into his execution, were observed by every one; and when asked to account for so remarkable a change, his reply was, “My Irish heart is warmed; I’m not now playing for money, but to please muself.” “But could you not play as well during the evening, Talbot, if you wished, as you do now?” “No, if you were to hang me. My heart must get warmed, and Irish – I must be as I am this minute.” This, indeed, was very significant, and strongly indicative of the same genius which distin- guished Neil Gow, Carolan, and other eminent musicians. Talbot, though blind, used to employ his leisure hours in tuning and stringing organs and pianos, and mending almost every de- scription of musical instrument that could be named. His own pipes, which he called the “grand pipes,” were at least eight feet long; and for beauty of appearance, richness, and deli- cacy of workmanship, surpassed any thing of the kind that could be witnessed; and when considered as the production of his own hands, were indeed entitled to be ranked as an ex- traordinary natural curiosity. Talbot played be- fore George IV., and appeared at most of the London theatres, where his performances were The following piece is from William Carleton – TALES AND SKETCHES, ILLUSTRATING THE CHARACTER, USAGES, TRADITIONS, SPORTS AND PASTIMES OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY (James Duffy, Dublin, 1845)

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2011-09-22T00:00:00

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