George I (1660-1727) the elector of Hanover and king of Great Britain was the first of the Hanoverian line of British rulers. Nathanial Cookman accompanied George I from Hanover, Germany to Great Britain as a financier to the crown. Cookman under the new regime was granted 6000 acres in Ireland stretching from Enniscorthy to Mount Leinster. He decided to be a resident landlord rather than an absentee, going against the norm of the time. Cookman with the help of his tenants started the construction of Monart house in 1733. Monart House was completed in 1740.
Nathanial Cookmans son Edward married the daughter of Andrew Jameson, a then local whisky distiller, whose name is carried on in the famous Jameson Irish whisky. For this reason the area around Monart is known as the Still.
Monart is an important handsome 18th century Georgian house. The house facade is built of sandstone with limestone quoins and dressings quarried from Mount Leinster. Monart is set in 119 acres of countryside on elevated ground, surrounded by farm land, with magnificent views of Vinegar Hill, one of Irelands most historic landmarks.
Monart house was in the possession of the Cookman family until the Griffin Group acquired it in 2002. The Griffin Group marked Monart house as the perfect destination for a world class spa due to its rich heritage. The group has combined all the comforts of modernity with the traditional beauty and luxury of Monart house.
GOLDEN AGE, MONART CO. WEXFORD
Cecil Day-Lewis (1904 – 1972)
British Poet Laureate - Father of Daniel Day-Lewis
There was a land of milk and honey.
Year by year the rectory garden grew
Like a prize bloom my height of summer.
Time was still as the lily ponds. I foreknew
No chance or change to stop me running
Barefoot for ever on the clovers dew.
Buttermilk brimmed in the cool earthen Crocks.
All day the french-horn phrase of doves
Dripped on my ear, a dulcet burden.
Gooseberry bushes, raspberry canes, like slaves
Presented myriad fruit to my mouth.
In a bliss of pure accepting the child moves.
Hand-to-mouth life at the top of the morning!
Shabby, queer-shaped house -- look how plain
Facts are remembered in gold engraving!
I have watched the dead -- my simple-minded kin,
Once bound to a cramped enclave -- returning
As myths of an Arcadian demesne.
Hens, beehives, dogs, an ass, the cobbled
Yard live on, brushed with a sunshine glaze.
Thanks to my gaunt, eccentric uncle,
His talkative sister, and the aunt who was
My second mother, from all times perishable
Goods I was given these few to keep always.