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Revd Lady Stella Durand, cousin and very good friend to the family, has a book of reminiscences which mention the Wynnes of Glendalough, as well as the Synges, good friends of the family. Here are the relevant passages:

Where the River Flows - Annamoe Rectory

by Vera Pettigrew

Chapter 3 A Farewell

We were very happy in Clontarf but Stanley had been curate there for over four years. Soon he was due to have a parish of his own. One day Canon Neligan told him, 'I think we had nominators in church today.' The following week he received a letter from the United Parishes of Derralossary and Calary in County Wicklow inviting him to meet Mr. J.B. Wynne of Glendalough. My presence was also requested.

On a perfect June day we took the St Kevin's bus to Glendalough. At Kilmacanogue it left the main road and crawled up the Long Hill. Below us the countryside stretched in a patchwork of fields with cottages dotting the landscape, the spire of Enniskerry Church and the roof of Powerscourt House in the distance. As the bus reached the top of the Long Hill, the Sugarloaf rose above us, its conical tip lit by the morning sun. Sheep grazed the slopes while a farmer, dog at heel, walked the grass verge. Then the countryside changed, with Calary bog stretching as far as the eye could see. The bus stopped often as women with baskets and old men in heavy boots got on and off. We saw few houses; they were mostly hidden up rough tracks. We passed Calary Church among pine trees and came to the village of Roundwood, sleepy in the morning sunshine. The few shops were still shut and not many people were about. The bus stopped, the driver left the wheel, and leaning on the bonnet he chatted to someone. No one, it seemed, was in a hurry.

At last we were on the move again. We saw the tower of the ancient church of Derralossary and the turf-brown Avonmore River as it flowed on its way from the Wicklow Mountains. Round the corner past Brady's Glen, with Ballenacorbeg hill rising steeply on the left, and we were approaching the tiny village of Annamoe. Ove the humpback bridge with the river tumbling beneath, past the post office, the one shop, a few whitewashed cottages with flower gardens, up the hill and we were on the straight to Laragh. the countryside had changed again, for here the fields rolled to a backdrop of tree-covered hills and we caught glimpses of large, old houses. Through Laragh we trundled past St John's Church and down into Glendalough.

We left the bus at the Royal Hotel. A car was parked close by and an elderly man with thinning hair and steel-rimmed glasses stepped out and introduced himself. It was Mr Wynne. We drove the short distance to a lovely, old-world house where his wife, waiting on the doorstep, welcomed us. During lunch in the white-walled dining-room, with Avoce handwoven tweed curtains at the windows, she did her best to put us at our ease. We drank coffee in the drawing- room, overlooking the Lower Lake, and afterwards Mr Wynne and Stanley left us. I could see them walking up and down on the lawn, deep in conversation, and I knew that the real interview had begun. Mrs Wynne talked to me in the kindest way but I knew that I too was being 'vetted'.

Both interviews must have been satisfactory because not long after our visit /stanley received a letter offering him the incumbency of the United Parishes of Derralossary and Calary with an annual stipend of 550. ...

Chapter 4 - The Ford of the Cows.

... Our next visitor was Mr Wynne and he was in a hurry. 'Settling in all right?' he asked. 'Rayburn working well?' and he was gone. ...

Chapter 5 - Between the Mountains and the Sea.

... Synge love County Wicklow with its wide-open spaces, heather-covered hills and unfenced pasture where mountain sheep grazed. He and his brothers looked on themselves as Wicklow men and one of them, Dr Sam, became rector of Annamoe after returning from the mission field in China. His daughter, Edith, called on us once at the rectory and over the years we got to know her well. She wa fond of travelling and even as an old lady spent time abroad, sometimes in exotic places, each year. Another member of that family, a young man called Francis, came to see us often and became a good friend. ...

Chapter 7 - The Call of the Cuckoo

... Mrs Wynne of Glendalough, our [MU] president, called at the rectory to see me. 'My dear,' she said, 'we would like you to read the lesson at our next meeting.' I was horrified, for I had never red in public before. But Mrs Wynne was adamant that, as the rector's wife, it was something I was expected to do.

The passage I had to read was short and not difficult, but I practised and practised. I read it to Stanley and to Judith and to the dog and to the cat until I knew it by heart. I went to that meeting with clammy hands and a churning stomach. The room was cold, warmed only by a small oil-heater, but when I stood up to read my whole body was suffused with heat. As I finished and, with tremendous relief, sat down again, Mrs Wynne gave me a gentle, approving smile. ... Two months later Mrs Wynne again paid me a visit to suggest that I should be enrolled and a full Mothers' Union member. The enrolment was held in St John's Church, Laragh, and as Stanley conducted the short service Mrs Wynne accompanied me to the communion rail. As she and I knelt together I wondered how I was going to heave my very pregnant body to my feet again. I needn't have worried; eighty-year-old Mrs Wynne, understanding and kind, put her hand under my elbow and we rose to our feet together. ...

Chapter 10 - Visiting

Gladys Wynne ... A painter firend of Stanley's, Carew, often visited us at week-ends. ... it was a coincidence that when we met him again, it was at Glendalough. Gladys Wynne, who was a water-colour artist, lived there, as did Jimmy Esmond, and they, with Stanley and Carew, were instrumental in forming an art group. They organised an exhibition of their work in a hall near the Upper Lake and Sean Keating, President of the Royal Hibernian Academy, opened it. In his speech he said, 'My wife likes Glendalough, but I don't. I can't understand why anyone bothers to paint it.' That didn't go down too well with the local people.

Chapter 12 - Weddings and Funerals

On the day that Stanley buried Gladys Wynne from Glendalough, a gale tore across the land and hurtled round Derralossary Church. Stanley and she had often gone painting together and once, in Glenmacnass Valley, as they made their way down to the river they had to climb a barbed-wire fence. Gladys' long tweed skirt was caught on the barbs and, legs and grey woollen stockings torn, she had to be extricated. After that her friends told the eighty-five-year old not to join Stanley on his painting expeditions again.On that wild winter's day of her funeral, with the stunted trees in Derralossary graveyard bending to the ground by the force of the gale, at the very moment of committal, the wind whipped the stole from round Stanley's neck and flung it into the open grave. Was Gladys saying a last, mischievous farewell to him?


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