The Lost Tribes of the Irish in the South: An Address at the Annual Dinner of the American Irish Historical Society, January 6, 1917

In Short

Delivered at a 1917 banquet, this speech functions as a lively genealogical intervention. The speaker, a proud Kentuckian, argues that the South’s defining traits—its hospitality, its romance, its fiery temper, and its devotion to tradition—are not English byproducts, but inheritances from the "lost" waves of Irish immigrants. By tracing his own family history and the lives of iconic Southern figures, the author dismantles the "Anglo-Saxon" obsession of his era, proving that the Irish spirit is woven into the very fabric of the American South.

The Story

The narrative begins as a personal discovery. After attending a performance by a wandering piper who plays "Garryowen," the speaker feels an inexplicable surge of emotion identical to what he feels for "Dixie." This triggers a genealogical investigation, leading him to realize that his own identity—which he previously assumed was purely Anglo-Saxon—is deeply rooted in the Wicklow Mountains and the clans of Scotland and Ireland. He presents this as a microcosm for the South at large.

The author proceeds to map the Irish influence across Southern history, starting with the pioneers. He argues that explorers like John Finley and James McBride were the true vanguard of the frontier, and that even the "pathfinder" Daniel Boone carried the blood of Irish ancestors. He highlights the role of wandering Irish schoolmasters, who he claims laid the foundation for Southern education and culture.

The arc of the story moves from the frontier to the battlefield. The speaker frames the American Revolution and the War of 1812 as Irish-led endeavors, pointing to the crucial contributions of men like George Rogers Clark and the riflemen at New Orleans. He then bridges the divide of the Civil War by noting that both Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis possessed Irish lineage, and he elevates figures like Patrick Cleburne, an Arkansas leader who gave his boots to a barefoot soldier, as the ultimate embodiment of Irish chivalry.

Throughout, the speaker addresses the tension between the North and the South. He characterizes the North as a place of cold, analytical commerce and the South as a place of warm, romantic idealism. He suggests that the South’s veneration of its past—the monuments in every hamlet and the stories told at mothers' knees—is a quintessentially Irish trait, a way of holding onto a heritage that has survived struggle and persecution.

The address concludes with an expansive view of the "Irish Diaspora" across the globe. He argues that the Irish cannot be "lost" because their restless, rebellious, and romantic spirit is an inextinguishable force. He finishes with a humorous anecdote about an Irishman in Mobile, Alabama, who, upon hearing a sermon about the final judgment, concludes that if all the feuding factions of history are gathered in one place, "there'll be damn little judgin' done the first day." This joke serves as his final word on the temperament of his people: stubborn, spirited, and inevitably inclined to quarrel, yet fundamentally tied together by a shared history.

How It Unfolds

The piper’s spark The speaker describes hearing a haunting Irish tune that stirs his blood more deeply than any American anthem. This moment of realization forces him to question his own identity and the common assumptions about Southern ancestry.

The genealogical audit He details his investigation into his own family tree, revealing a tapestry of Irish rebels, revolutionaries, and pioneers. He uses his personal findings to challenge the "fetish" of pure Anglo-Saxon dominance in the South.

The frontier myth-busting The author systematically reclaims iconic figures like Daniel Boone and George Rogers Clark as part of the Irish-descended vanguard. He argues that the culture of the mountain regions is built on the foundation of runaway indentured Irish servants.

The battlefield roll call He catalogs the Irish presence in every major American conflict, from the War of 1812 to the Civil War. He uses the story of General Pat Cleburne as a moral high point to define the "Irish spirit" in the South.

The final judgment The address culminates in a humorous anecdote about a man from Mobile who contemplates the chaotic nature of the afterlife. This concluding thought highlights the author's argument that the Irish spirit is defined by its resilience and its irrepressible, argumentative nature.

The People

The speaker, Irvin S. Cobb, acts as the primary guide. He is a self-deprecating, humorous, and deeply curious Kentuckian who transitions from a man who "didn't know" his own heritage to an evangelical champion of Irish-Southern history. He is motivated by a desire to see his home region’s identity more accurately mapped.

Matthew Lyon stands out as the most vibrant historical figure mentioned. A victim of political persecution, he is a man of chaotic energy who buys his freedom with a stolen bull, challenges a President to a duel, and influences the course of American history by securing Thomas Jefferson’s election. He represents the restless, anti-establishment spirit the author identifies as characteristically Irish.

Pat Cleburne, the Confederate general from Arkansas, serves as the moral center of the address. By sacrificing his own comfort to help a soldier in the snow, he embodies the "chivalry" and "humanity" the author associates with the Irish soul.

The "wandering Irish schoolmasters" are presented as the intellectual architects of the South. Though they appear as a collective group rather than individuals, they are credited with seeding the region’s culture, acting as the bridge between the hardships of the past and the literary traditions of the South.

In Its Own Voice

"I am one who is Irish and didn’t know it; but now that I do know it, I am prouder of that fact than of any other thing on earth except that I am an American citizen."

The speaker introduces his central transformation, reflecting on his discovery of his own ancestry.

"The north opens wide the door of opportunity to every man who comes to its borders with willing hands and eager brain, and commands him to get busy. The south opens a door, too, but it is the door of hospitality, and it bids the stranger enter in, not so much for what he can give, but for what he can take in the way of welcome."

In contrasting the North and the South, the speaker highlights the region’s cultural reliance on social connection over commercial efficiency.

What It's Really About

The central argument is that the "Southern soul" is a byproduct of Irish heritage rather than English blood. The book interrogates the "Anglo-Saxon" label often applied to the South, suggesting it is a historical convenience that ignores the influence of Irish rebels, dreamers, and outcasts. Underlying the plot is a question of identity: what makes a region feel the way it does? Cobb argues that geography and climate are secondary to the persistent transmission of cultural traits—a love of poetry, a hot temper, and a tendency to challenge authority—passed down through generations of Irish settlers who sought a place where they could live, fight, and dream on their own terms.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in genealogy, the formation of American identity, or the evolution of the Southern myth will find this address captivating. Its tone is that of a skilled after-dinner raconteur—warm, sharp-witted, and unpretentious. The prose crackles with the energy of a man speaking to his peers, making it feel less like a dry historical document and more like a lively, spirited conversation.

However, the modern reader should be aware that the book is very much a product of 1917. The author relies on period-specific language and makes broad, sweeping generalizations about "national characters" that are common for the era but may feel dated today. He uses colloquialisms and anecdotes—such as the story of the "colored brother" in the street-cleaning department—that reflect the casual, pervasive racial insensitivity typical of the time, which can be jarring. Despite these limitations, the book remains a fascinating look at how a specific group of Americans wrestled with their origins. If you can appreciate the author’s attempt to challenge a narrow historical narrative, you will find it an insightful, entertaining window into how the Irish helped shape the American experience. Its brevity makes it an easy, rewarding read for anyone curious about the intersections of heritage and geography.