linens in Belfast was one of Henry’s projects. Lisburn and Lurgan were at this time the principal linen markets of the North, and it was only in 1773 that the Marquis of Donegall had given Belfast its Brown Linenhall. Brown or unbleached linens were bought by bleachers and, after being treated, were taken to Dublin where the central market for white linen was attended by buyers from England and the Continent. Naturally it would be most beneficial if some of this trade could be diverted to Belfast, and no doubt the enterprising owners of the extensive bleach greens that were being set up around the town – for example the Sinclaires – welcomed such a scheme. Henry’s efforts resulted in the building, by a group of citizens, of the White Linenhall in 1783 to the cost of which he and Robert made generous contributions, and which remained one of the dignified landmarks of the city until it was demolished at the close of the 19th century to make way for the present City Hall.28
On May 1st 1781 Henry was elected a burgess of the town. This had no particular democratic significance, for the electoral roll was confined to the Sovereign and the Burgesses whose doings were closely scrutinized by Lord Donegall, but his election, coming a year after the repeal of the Test Act, testifies to the high regard in which this uncompromising Whig was held. For such were Henry’s political views, and as he trained his nephew, another Henry, in the News-Letter office, strong Whig principles were anchored in the young man’s mind. This second Henry is known always as Henry Joy, jun., and on his uncle’s death he assumed sole responsibility for the paper.
Once again Henry senior was honoured by his fellow-citizens when, just a few months before his death, they expressed to him their “gratitude for the innumerable services rendered by him in a long series of years to his fellow-citizens: as a promoter of concord, by preventing litigious suits, as an able and upright Counsellor, an impartial Arbitrator – and an Honest Man.”29 He was much pleased by this recognition. In his will he left to his son Henry, known for many years as Counsellor Joy, the cup and cover “lately presented to me by the principal inhabitants of Belfast, in the hope that his conduct through life may be such as to entitle him to be as honourably remembered by his fellow-citizens.”30 Henry’s wife had predeceased him many years. In this same will he charges his two youngest daughters, Harriet and Grizell, “to pay all respect and obedience to their Aunt Dunbar who has behaved to them as an affectionate parent since the death of my dearly beloved wife.” and he bequeaths to this lady “thirty guineas and a ring as a token of my gratitude, respect and esteem.”31
For, however notable were his public achievements, Henry Joy was essentially a family man. His children loved him, and he must have watched with pride his young son Henry embark on a career that was to end as Chief Baron of the Irish Court of Exchequer. It is an interesting sidelight on the rising financial status of the Joy brothers that Henry, as well as providing liberally for his other children, was able to educate this son in Dublin, London and Paris.
To his sister Ann McCracken Henry was a constant friend and adviser, especially during the long absences from home of her sea-faring husband; the two families lived side by side in High Street. He was always sociable – in the early days when, perhaps, life was not quite so full, he had time to go round to Tim’s Coffee House in Bridge Street, to listen to old Dominick Mangan playing his harp, – he considered Dominick a good harpist; and when that interesting young man David Manson opened his little brewery Henry Joy would turn in for a mug of ale and long discussions on politics and education.
He died in January 1789. An obituary notice, long and formal, emphasises the affection with which he was regarded “Too modest to court the attentions of any he was beloved by all”. “He was the blessing of the town and neighbourhood” for, professional lawyer though he was, “he prevented law suits, composed differences and gave opinions which were received with almost unbounded confidence, because they were known to proceed from enlarged ideas, and inflexible integrity. While every other person admired his prudence and revered his knowledge, he alone beheld them with diffidence … he lived the wise, the kind, the invaluable friend of all, and dies without the enmity of any.”32
CHAPTER 3
CAPTAIN AND MRS. MCCRACKEN 1745–1770
ANN, the youngest of Francis Joy’s children by his first wife, was still a child when her mother died. About the time of the move to Randalstown [1745] her father married again and there is no indication that his daughter accompanied him to the new home; probably she remained in Belfast to keep house for her, as yet, unmarried brothers. But housekeeping was not to occupy all her energies, and, while in her early twenties, she opened a milliner’s shop in High Street.1 This enterprise cannot have been prompted by necessity, for Francis Joy was in a position to provide his daughter with every comfort; rather, it was an expression of that independent, practical outlook later to be so characteristic of her own two girls. One’s imagination plays with the thought of the little shop; the wide-brimmed bonnets and the great feathered hats, the straws, the beavers and the velvets, the ribbands and other trimmings; and the young woman with her clever fingers taking pride and pleasure in making her customers look their best. In due course the hat shop was abandoned for Ann met and married a sea-captain, John McCracken. In contrast to the Joys he was tall; he was also handsome, a widower and ten years her senior. We know nothing whatever of the romance, but their sincere and happy attachment ended only with his death.
Generations earlier the McCrackens had settled at Hillhall near Lisburn in County Antrim, having been driven from Scotland during the persecution of the Covenanters by Claverhouse.2 Possibly the family was related to the Rev. Alexander McCracken, Presbyterian minister in Lisburn from 1688–1730, whose strong views against the Oath of Abjuration forced him to fly the country and eventually landed him in prison. Certainly John McCracken had been trained in the Covenanting tradition, and in the new family that started from his marriage the stern, fiery, uncompromising characteristics of the Scot are evident alongside the calmer, more orderly tendencies of the French-English roots of the Joys.
John McCracken, himself, was a man of deep spiritual convictions and unbending integrity, and yet withal, of so kind and lovable a nature that “his particular gentleness” was long remembered as one of his most endearing qualities. On matters of principle he was adamant: for example – in an age when, as a matter of course, every ship’s captain and, to a lesser degree, every member of the crew, augmented their earnings by smuggling, Captain McCracken would have none of it, either for himself or for his men. He regarded, it was said, his Custom House oath to be as binding as any other; furthermore, he considered that smuggling was unfair to the honest trader. In spite of this, and other, strict interpretations of duty his men loved him, for he had all the qualities of a leader.3
The Captain and his wife set up house in High Street next door to Henry Joy and close to the quay where his ship would berth. It was an anxious early married life for Ann. She must have been separated from her husband for long periods, and communications were woefully uncertain. In addition to the perils from nature, there was, as we have seen by the letter from her father, constant danger from the enemy, and once, at any rate, Captain McCracken was taken prisoner by the French. The fact that her husband’s mother lived with her may have made the young wife less lonely, but Mrs. McCracken senior, was not an altogether easy companion. A fierce, uncompromising old lady, she was regarded by her grandchildren with awe, due in part to a belief that any threat she might utter would surely come to pass. Her granddaughter, Mary Ann, related one such family experience. In the spring of 1763 it was necessary for Captain McCracken to spend some time in Liverpool supervising the building of two vessels for his employer, George Black, a substantial Belfast wine merchant. Supposing that his mother would readily undertake the care of the two small children, he arranged to take his wife with him. But the old lady had other views. Feeling, perhaps, that the wife’s place was in the home, and having no sympathy for the Joy delight in a new experience, she declared most vindictively that “she wished she [her daughter-in-law] might get a scare before coming back.” The stay in Liverpool was highly successful, the new ships were completed, but Captain McCracken, not wishing to expose his wife to the risk of a maiden voyage, decided that she should travel home before him. The vessel in which she sailed, encountering
