"...to seek and to find the past, a lineage, a history, a family built on a flesh and bone foundation."

Tuesday, November 3, 2020

‘Educator Extraordinaire': Anne Mullin Jellicoe



This is Anne Jellicoe (1823 - 1880), a woman about whom you've likely never heard. In Dublin City, Anne founded a college for the education of girls. Alexandra College played an integral role in the lives of many extraordinary Irish women, who in their turn had a profound impact on the history of Ireland. 

Born Anne William Mullin on 26 March 1823, her whole life long Anne had a keen interest in uplifting the lives of Irish women. Following her 1846 marriage to John Jellicoe, the two moved to County Offaly where Anne opened a school for girls, teaching them lacemaking, homemaking and other practical skills.

Controversially, Anne not only took the bold move of teaching the girls to think independently, she decided to add taught subjects normally reserved for boys. The local Catholic priest was so outraged, he pushed the authorities to bring the school to an end.

Not to be deterred, Anne and John moved to Dublin, where Anne worked for charity schools. She taught poor and indigent women secretarial skills and bookkeeping, such that these women might secure employment by which they could support their families.

In 1861 Anne founded the Queen’s Institute for the Training and Employment of Educated Women. There Anne and other teachers provided technical training classes for women. It was located in the building that is now Buswell’s Hotel. (At the corner of Kildare & Molesworth streets, just over the road from the National Library of Ireland.)

Anne realised she wanted to do more than provide technical training for women. She recognised that women needed a well-rounded education. Having enjoyed a proper education herself, Anne mourned the dearth of such schooling for middle-class Protestant young women, and wanted to offer something comparable to that given to young men.

These ideas ran entirely contrary to the long prevailing belief that middle-class women should be educated only in ‘the accomplishments’ that which would allow them to attract a husband and raise a family. For a Protestant middle-class girl, needlework, music and appropriate reading, together with basic arithmetic (to work out the grocer’s bill) and a language from the continent, most often French, but occasionally Italian or German, comprised her education. 

Little thought was given to those middle-class girls who would never marry or who would end up in very reduced circumstances, having been widowed or abandoned. Anne’s husband John died in 1862, and her own widowhood seemed to increase Anne’s desire to better educate women.

From my postcard collection, the back garden of the college, 
featuring the Jellico Building.

In 1866, with the help of Church of Ireland Archbishop Richard Chenevix Trench, who supported her mandate, Anne founded Alexandra College in Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin. The original plan was to educate governesses at the school, but Anne recognised the need to make the school into a university-style institution offering a firm grounding in taught subjects, including History, Physics, Chemistry, Euclidian Geometry, Algebra, English Literature, Languages and Art. These subjects would prepare young women to sit the same examinations as young men. 

Alexandra College on Earlsfort Terrace.
Lawrence Collection, National Library of Ireland

This was no easy task for Anne and others who held that educating young women was in and of itself intrinsically valuable. Catholic bishops in particular felt a world with educated women was an inherently bad thing, because to educate a woman was to bring her into an unnatural state away from her so-called natural roles of wife and mother.

Anne Jellicoe was among those who fiercely lobbied for the extension to girls of the Intermediate Education (Ireland) Act of 1878. The Act established the principle that girls and women had the right to sit for public competitive examinations and the right to earn university degrees.

By the time of Anne’s death on 18 October 1880, Alexandra College had become a recognised feeder school for young women entering university. Perhaps not surprisingly, her obituary named Anne as the ‘Lady Superintendent of Alexandra School’, but did not acknowledge the fact that she founded the college.

Today Alexandra College still exists. It now operates as an independent school, under the Church of Ireland ethos, and is recognised as one of the finest girls’ schools in Ireland.

Thankfully, in the 19th century, Catholic nuns (members of my own family among them) also got on board with the idea of educating girls for university entrance, but that is a story for another day.


©Éire_Historian

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Images: 

1] A portrait of Anne William Mullin Jellicoe by an unattributed artist.

2] From my postcard collection, the back garden and Jellicoe Hall at Alexandra College.

3] The buildings of Alexandra College fronting Earlsfort Terrace. Lawrence Collection, National Library of Ireland.

Endnote:

The Intermediate Education (Ireland) Act, 1878, Chapter LXVI, Section Six, Line 4, with respect to the education of girls, reads exactly as follows:

“The Board shall from time to time, with the approval of the Lord Lieutenant, make rules for the purposes of this Act with respect to the following matters. For applying, as far as conveniently may be, the benefits of this Act to the education of girls.”

Friday, October 30, 2020

'Cycling Apparitions in the Castle Ruins': An Irish Ghost Story

Since it is almost Hallowe'en I thought I'd post a light hearted 'ghost' story, a tale our dad shared with us about one of his adventures in the wilds of Connemara.

When my dad was a young man he was an amateur competitive cyclist, and spent every spare penny he had on the maintenance of his bicycles. When he was able to take a holiday from work he and his friends would cycle around the country. Together, over many holidays, they travelled hundreds of miles, eventually  navigating the whole of the island of Ireland. They were always very well prepared, carrying with them sleeping bags, a primus stove for cooking, along with a neatly compact kit of cooking implements, some food, and torches for night lighting.

Each day the travelling group would go as far as the wind and their legs would carry them. Overnight stays were arranged as they went. Many nights they found themselves sleeping in the hayloft of an obliging farmer, in exchange for helping out a little the next day. After such nights they were usually greeted with a delicious breakfast of fresh eggs, sausages, bacon, batch bread and coffee so strong "it would grow hair on your chest", as my dad used to say.

From my dad's photo collection, a shot taken in the Twelve Bens

On a trip up into Connemara they found themselves arriving in a small village too late at night to make any sort of sleeping arrangements. They had cycled through the Twelve Bens, a mountain range which, while not exceptionally high, has roads so narrow and drops so steep that cycling through it is not for the faint of heart. The weather had closed in on them, and visibility was very poor; they had to stop for a while before completing their journey through the mountains, thus the very late arrival at the village.

The weather was still a little unstable when they arrived, and not wanting to get drenched by an overnight rain while sleeping under the stars, they decided to seek shelter inside castle ruins one of the party had spotted in a field on the edge of the village. They made their way through the field, trying to quiet the clatter of their bicycles so as not to unsettle the cows. My dad loved the darkness of the night; he said it seemed as though there were a billion stars in the sky.


They arrived to discover the ruins of the castle were in good enough shape that they would be well sheltered for the night. They pulled out their gear, lit candles, heated up the primus stove, and prepared a small meal over which they enjoyed animated conversation about their day's adventures. They used their torches and candles to poke around a bit inside the ruins before finally extinguishing them and settling in for the night.

My dad said he had never before slept so soundly. They slept late into the morning and awakened fresh and ready to go into the village for a hearty meal before they once again set out on their bikes. 

Along the way they met a shepherd moving a large flock of sheep down the road. He directed them to a small pub where they could get a meal, and told them to avoid the castle ruins on their tour because during the night he had noticed strange lights in the castle keep. He was worried that the angry ghost who used to haunt the place might be back. The cycling party said nothing and proceeded to the pub. 

They arrived to find the place in an uproar with a number of villagers excitedly talking about strange lights seen in the castle ruins the previous night, how the lights moved about so much, how they were glowing for a while and then suddenly gone. There was one 'auld fella' (my dad's words) in particular who seemed to delight in regaling the group with stories about apparitions met and ghosts that had once haunted the ruins, and who wondered aloud what this reappearance might mean. 

My father and his friends felt they should own up to the fact that it was them lighting up the ruins the previous night, and not an angry ghost; however, everyone seemed so excited about it that they just didn't have the heart to say anything. The 'cycling apparitions' happily shared a meal with the villagers at the pub and continued on their journey.

©Éire_Historian

Note: *The ruin in the image I have included above is not in fact in Connemara; it is Hoare Abbey in Tipperary, but you get the picture. We were children when my father, who died 20 years ago, told us this story, so unfortunately I’ve no idea as to the exact whereabouts of the castle — ‘on the edge of the village’ so the story goes. 

Wednesday, September 16, 2020

A Chronicle of Sarah Henrietta Purser: Irish Artist & Patron of the Arts

When you’re one of eleven children — three daughters, and eight sons — born into a highly ambitious family, how do you distinguish yourself?

Sarah Henrietta Purser made her mark as an  portrait painter, glass artist, and patron of the arts. She was a woman who made substantive changes to the way in which the world of art operated in Ireland. Although she had been born into privilege, Sarah’s path was not an easy one. 

Born 22 March 1848 in Kingstown, now Dún Laoghaire, Sarah Henrietta Purser was the third daughter and eighth child born to Anne Mallett Purser and her husband Benjamin Purser. Sarah was christened with the forename of her first born sister Sarah Jane who died in infancy in 1840.


Sarah's father Benjamin Purser sprang from a fabulously wealthy Dublin family. Both his father John and elder brother John were ambitious and talented. The two entered into a partnership with Guinness in the St. James Gate Brewery, notably the only pair outside the Guinness family ever given such an opportunity. Benjamin briefly apprenticed at the St. James Gate Brewery; however, while his brother John was acclaimed as ‘a gifted chief brewer’, Benjamin simply did not have the knack for it. 

In the spring of 1848, Benjamin took the decision to move his family to Dungarvan, Co. Waterford. There he bought a corn mill. Away from the pressures of his father and family in Dublin, Benjamin appeared to prosper as a flour miller for nigh on twenty years. He also bought a corn store and a grain warehouse, and invested heavily in the new Gas Works. In 1867 he even became a partner in the new brewery of Purser & Cody. 

On the brink of womanhood in 1861, thirteen year old Sarah was sent to a finishing school in Switzerland to complete her education. There she became fluent in French and began painting. Sarah would remain at the school until 1863. When she returned to Ireland, Sarah continued to hone her skills as an artist. In 1872, for the first time, Sarah exhibited a painting at the Royal Hibernian Academy [RHA].  Her family allowed Sarah to continue her education where her talents took her, thus she attended the Metropolitan School of Art in Dublin from 1873 - 1876; there she won the landscape painting prize in 1876.

Little did his family know, but by 1871 Benjamin Purser’s business concerns were collapsing. He had been a spendthrift, splashing out on creature comforts, and throwing a lavish wedding for his eldest daughter. He could afford none of it. 

Patriarch of the family, Benjamin’s father John Purser, stepped in and paid off his son’s creditors. Benjamin was mortified. He emigrated (read absconded) away from Ireland, going to America under the guise of looking for work to support his family. Sarah would never again set eyes on her father.

Sarah and her mother were left in very reduced circumstances, wholly dependent on the kindness of their Dublin relatives. Her entire life long Sarah recalled how deeply ashamed she felt when entering shops in town where she knew her father owed money.

Benjamin Purser died in America 14 December 1899, leaving £1,327 17s. 9d. to his son William. There was nothing bequeathed to Sarah or her mother.


Sarah was a pragmatist who knew she had to earn a living, and she was determined to do so as a portrait painter. With the aid of her brothers, Sarah travelled to the continent, where she spent six months completing her art education at the Académie Julian in the Passage Panorama, Paris. 

Although it might have loomed as a monumental task, earning her living as an artist was eased by Sarah’s talent for networking. One of her first portraits was commissioned by her friend Jane L'Estrange. Jane introduced Sarah to Lady Gore-Booth who commissioned at least three portraits from Sarah, including a famous double portrait of Constance Gore-Booth (later Markievicz) and her sister Eva. 

Once she had her paint brushes in the door, so to speak, Sarah would come to count among her connections, and portrait subjects, the likes of Maud Gonne, the Yeats family, John Millington Synge and many other individuals of note. Thus she was able to build a highly successful portraiture business. Sarah was once quoted as saying of her success as a portraitist, “I went through the aristocracy like measles”.



By the year 1900 Sarah Purser was recognised as a so-called ‘woman of substance’. She was celebrated for her work as an artist, a patron of artists, and a skilled fundraiser for the art community. By virtue of the quality of her work as a portrait artist, along with some savvy investing, Sarah was earning an excellent living; she pegged her wealth at some £30,000. She kept a keen eye on the Dublin Stock Exchange, invested in Guinness and other Irish companies, such that by the time she was middle-aged Sarah had become a wealthy woman in her own right, and could do whatever she liked.


Sarah mounted an exhibition of the work of John Yeats and Nathanial Hone in 1901, an exhibition said to have inspired Hugh Lane to lay the ground work for his Gallery of Modern Art. Lane was drowned 7 May 1915 in the sinking of the Lusitania, but Sarah kept his dream alive, petitioning the Irish government to house the gallery in Charlemont House. Pictured above, the Hugh Lane Municipal Gallery of Modern Art finally opened at Charlemont House in 1933; it remains there to this day. 


In 1903, at 24 Upper Pembroke Street in Dublin, Sarah Purser founded and fully financed ‘An Túr Gloine’ (anglicised: Tower of Glass), a co-operative studio for stained glass and opus sectile artists, including Michael Healy, Evie Hone, Beatrice Elvery, Wilhelmina Geddes, Harry Clarke and Alfred Ernest Child. The raison d’etre of the studio was to revive the craft of stained glass in Ireland. Despite her best efforts to remain known principally as a portraitist, after the founding of the studio, Sarah became known for her work as a stained glass artist as well.

From 1878 until 1938 Sarah regularly showed her work at exhibitions of the Royal Hibernian Academy. She had been made an Honorary Member in 1890, and in 1923 Sarah finally became the first female member of the RHA. In 1924, Sarah initiated the launch of the Friends of the National Collections of Ireland, for whom she raised considerable funds. As well, from 1914-43, Sarah held an appointment on the Board of Governors and Guardians of the National Gallery of Ireland. 


Sarah Purser lived and worked at number 11 Harcourt Terrace from 1887 to 1909 (see first image). I can imagine her studio at the gable end of the property, with light coming in through the glazed sections of the mansard roof. Every Tuesday afternoon at Harcourt Terrace Sarah held an ‘at home’. These gatherings attracted the best of the Irish literary and artistic communities, discussing all manner of topics from art, music, and literature through to agrarian unrest and politics. In 1909 Sarah moved to Mespil House, the home of her brother John Mallet Purser, where Sarah continued to host her 'at home' gatherings.

Despite all Sarah Purser had done for the Irish Art Community, as well as the quality and depth of the work she produced, at the age of 75, she had to organise and mount her own exhibition. 

After suffering a stroke at Mespil House, Sarah Henrietta Purser died 7 August 1943, aged 95 years. She is interred in Mount Jerome Cemetery, Harold’s Cross, Dublin City. 

Most fittingly, Sarah’s epitaph is ‘Fortis et strenua’, ‘Strong & Vigorous’.

Today the name Sarah Henrietta Purser still echoes in the halls of Irish Academia because of an endowment made in 1934 to both University College Dublin (UCD) and Trinity College Dublin, funding scholarships for the study of European Art History. 
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