Short stories, Some Experiences of an Irish R. M. (1899); Further Experiences of an Irish R.M. (1908); and In Mr. Knoxs Country (1915).
Travel works, Through Connemara in a Governess Cart (1892); In the Vine Country (1893), and Beggars on Horseback (1895). [For publishing details, see under Somerville]; also, memoir of Robert Ross, quoted at length in the first chapter of Edith Somervilles Irish Memories (1917), pp.-29.
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Maurice Collis, Somerville & Ross: A Biography (London: Faber 1968), p.38; In 1882, when she was twenty, [Violet] made her first visit to London, which lasted two months. By this time her brother Robert Martin of Ross, was 36 and was married. ... He was a gifted charming man, who found it amused his friend for him to pose as a stage Irishman. He had begun to publish in the Globe and other papers verses and stories of Irish life, including the song Ballyhooley, which was such a hit in the halls that it alone made him famous ... published his best stories and verses in a volume called Bits of Blarney (1899) ... Some Experiences &c., also in 1899, were very much better stories of the Irish country scene. Further notes that Somerville & Rosss first collaboration was an article on Palmistry written by Violet and illustrated by Edith, for the Graphic, 11 Oct. 1886. and that In the event, Edith went to Paris where in due course the article for the Graphic arrived and she set to work to illustrate it.
Seán McMahon, ‘John Bulls Other Ireland: A Consideration of The Real Charlotte by Somerville & Ross’, in Éire-Ireland, 3, 4 (Winter 1968), remarks: ‘Of the two, Edith was the more artistic; she did many illustrations for the books and exhibited successfully twice in London. She was also a competent musician and played the organ in St. Barrananes in Castletownshend. [...] Martin on the other hand was more literary, more sensitive, more introspective and more gloomy. She was much better informed about the other Ireland than Edith: she is the one, for example, who renders with phonetic accuracy the few phrases of the Irish language that appear in their books. (p.125.)
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Big House at Inver?: I was driven off to a little desolate awful church, to which the Ardrahan clergyman drives out. I have never been at anything so wretched - the little church quite well built, but coated with mildew and damp, the decaying old prayer books stuck to the seats with fungus. The clergyman came out and dusted a pew for me before he allowed me to sit in it - I, a young man, and a policeman were the congregation. The parson gave out a hymn, started it very well; I struck in, and he and I then sang a duet. When he found that I was well set, he sang an excellent bass in a low baritone. The youth and the policeman listened reverently to this unique performance. / In the afternoon Tilly Redington and I drove over to Tyrone House. A bigger and much grander edition of Ross - a great square cut-stone house of three stories, with an area - perfectly empty - and such ceilings, architraves, teak doors and chimney-pieces as one sees in old houses in Dublin. It is on a long promontory by the sea and there rioted three or four generations of St. Georges - living with country-women, occasionally marrying them, all illegitimate four times over. No so long ago eight of these awful half-peasant families roosted together in that lovely house, and fought, and barricaded and drank, till the police had to intervene - about 150 years ago a very grand Lady Harriet St Lawrence married a St. George, and lived there, and was so corroded with pride that she would not allow her daughters to associate with the Galway people. She lived to see them marry two men in the yard. Yesterday as we left an old Miss St. George, daughter of the last owner, was at the door in a donkey trap-she lives near, in a bit of the castle, and since her people died she will not go into Tyrone House, or into the enormous yard, or the beautiful old garden. She was a strange mixture of distinction and commonness, like her breeding, and it was very sad to see her at the door of that great house - If we dare to write up that subject! (Letters of Somerville & Ross, ed. Gifford Lewis, London 1989, p.294; R. F. Foster, ‘Protestant Magic: W. B. Yeats and the Spell of Irish History, Paddy and Mr Punch: Connections in Irish History and English History London: Allen Lane/Penguin 1993; rep. in Jonathan Allison, ed., Yeatss Political Identities, Michigan UP 1996, p.89.)
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