MICHAEL UNEARTHS STORIES FROM ENNISKERRY’S PAST
REPORTER DAVID MEDCALF WAS AMONG THE AUDIENCE PACKED INTO THE LIBRARY IN ENNISKERRY WHEN HISTORIAN MICHAEL SEERY SPILLED THE BEANS ON HOW TO DELVE INTO LOCAL HISTORY
MICHAEL Seery is a chemist, a respected member of staff at the chemistry department in the University of Edinburgh, the city where he now lives. But Michael’s not so secret passion embraces a very different subject which will always bring him back to his County Wicklow home place.
He grew up in Enniskerry surrounded by reminders of the old days and he retains an enthusiastic curiosity about the village, though he resides far away. The son of Don and Marie Seery, he attended one of the local primary schools before going to Bray for his secondary education and then on to Trinity College. A little part of him wonders to this day whether he might have studied history rather than chemistry at university.
Nevertheless, though he does not have a degree in the topic, he applies a rigorous academic approach as he delves into Enniskerry local history. He presides over a website devoted to the theme and he is the author of a couple of books exploring the heritage of his picturesque native town.
The Seery name on the posters served to attract a full house recently to the local library for a one-hour talk on his researches. Among those attending were the speaker’s parents and his sister Santina, and it seemed that everyone present had some connection to the speaker or to his family.
They came to learn how they too may examine Enniskerry’s past, tracing the people who used to live in the neighbourhood and following the evolution of the streetscape. The principal focus of the morning’s address was an introduction to the sources, the papers and the records which are the raw material of the historian. Some are available through the web, while others require a journey to reading rooms in Dublin or elsewhere.
In the case of Enniskerry, most of the material is inevitably connected to the Powerscourt estate as it was the Powerscourts who dictated all local development. The old Ordnance Survey maps show that the layout remains very much as their lordships had laid out the streetscape by the 1840s. The big change was the addition of the road to Bray beside the River Dargle, which was not completed with its notorious 21 bends until 1867.
As they waited for the talk to begin, the audience were treated to a photograph of the village in mellow brown and white. The image projected on to the wall of the library was from the splendid Lawrence collection, taken from high up at St Mary’s Roman Catholic church. h. The sepia brown picture e was clearly of some an- tiquity as one person was s overheard saying: ‘My y house is not there!’ Nor was the library in which we were all sitting.
Stepping into the limelight, Michael Seery pointed out some of the buildings evident in the photo. The Lawrence lens was sharp enough to allow him to zoom in without losing too much detail and show the old national school and the old courthouse.
The first is long since demolished while the second is now reincarnated as a takeaway, its
architectural merit heavily disguised.
The process of dating photos, postcards and drawings is made easier by referring to wellknown landmarks. The iconic clock tower, a magnet for 21st century day trippers at the centre of the village, carries the date 1843. Another tell-tale reference point is the façade of the hotel, which was considerably altered following a fire which dictated a refurbishment. After 1894, the building acquired a trendy Alpine style which was not evident in the simpler original design.
Judges may have forsaken Enniskerry in favour of Bray but the proceedings in the old court remain on the record, offering real insights into local characters: ‘We have a fund of stories of local crime,’ said Michael, always eager to learn about the real lives of real people and what they might have been gossiping about when Queen Victoria was on the throne.
The official source of court reports on sittings of the Petty Sessions is the National Archives in Dublin. They show that drunkenness was common and that Constable Joseph Richards was kept busy in 1859 maintaining public order with many a hapless drinker incurring fines of one shilling. More unusually, the magistrates (or local big-wigs) also had to rule on a case of sheep trespassing, which resulted in the flock owner being ordered to pay one pound and four shillings – around €1.70 – to the injured party.
‘ The Petty Sessions reports are great fun,’ suggested the lecturer, almost disappointed that his own family did not feature: ‘ The Seerys never did anything.’ At least his law-abiding 19th-century ancestors did show up on the Powerscourt estate records and on school rolls, all of which are well preserved.
Enniskerry, it turns out, was a hot-bed of progressive education, to the extent that a school gardener was employed. Windows salvaged from the old reformatory in Glencree were used to create a greenhouse where pupils learned the basics of horticulture.
During his engaging speech in the library, Michael Seery did not mention the name of the gardener but did refer to the school master Jeremiah Golden. Something of a maverick, Golden fell out with the school management and it is known that he mutilated 12 rose bushes on his way out.
Another character gleefully highlighted by Michael Seery was Margaret Dixon, who was widowed in 1814. She had a landholding but pleaded with the Powerscourts in 1848 for a rent reduction and her arrears were wiped out. Having avoided eviction, she made the most of her good fortune by living on until the year 1872 when she finally expired at the age of 100.
After delivering his prepared spiel and fielding a few questions, the guest speaker in the library mused on how his hobby has become something of an obsession.
‘I started doing the old family history, becoming more and more interested in what life was like for Enniskerry people in the past.’ Research was made easier by the village’s connections to the big house estate of the Powerscourts, which generated a huge volume of material.
The influence of the landed gentry (usually with noble titles) is not unique to Enniskerry. Just look at Tinahely and Shillelagh, which still bear the stamp of the Fitzwilliams, who dictated affairs from their glorified hunting lodge in Coolattin. Meanewhile, the Latouches were instrumental in shaping Delgany while Blessington had the Hills.
‘ They all had their little toy towns,’ commented Michael with a wry grin, not that he was complaining. Landlords, particularly absentee landlords, tended to keep meticulous record of every transaction connected with their holdings, which ran to thousands of acres. As a result, local historians have the luxury of access to the written ledgers held as archives and generally accessible to the public.
In the case of the Fitzwilliams, it is necessary to cross the Irish Sea and head for Sheffield in order to examine the documents. The nuts and bolts of the Blessington estate, down to the receipts for purchase of the last bag of nails, are held in Northern Ireland’s public record office.
The Powerscourt archive, on the other hand, is more adjacent, just a short ride on the 44 bus to the National Library in Dublin. The records were particularly well kept in the years up to 1857 when the 7th Viscount Powerscourt was a minor. He was a child when he inherited the title, so his mother and two other members of the family were installed as guardians responsible for running a very considerable enterprise.
THE trio were reluctant to take major policy decisions on issues such as replacing the old bridge over the Dargle as they presided over the area from 1844 until the viscount attained the age of 21 in 1857. However, they were legally obliged to keep written tabs on just about everything that moved on the estate and in the village.
The three of the four ‘Guardian Minute Books’ which they compiled during the discharge of their duties remain in existence, offering a fascinating fount of Enniskerry lore. The pity is that the first volume, covering the years of the Great Famine, is the one which has not survived.
The viscount – otherwise known as Mervyn Wingfield – lived into the 20th century having married the well-connected Julia Cole in the 1860s.
The exploits of Mervyn, of the Widow Dixon, of the Master Golden and of many others may be unearthed in part through the website enniskerryhistory.org, which is curated from his base in Edinburgh by Michael Seery.
He has also published a couple of books called ‘Enniskerry: A History’, ‘Education in Wicklow’ and ‘Enniskerry in Archives, Notes and Stories’.