In light of the elegance on display in yesterday’s post
about Georgian Dublin, it seems appropriate to share my visit to 14
Henrietta Street, a museum that literally walks you through nearly 300 years of
Irish history.
When the townhomes on Henrietta Street were first built in the
1720s, they were the height of sophistication in the area that was the place to live if you were part of
the Anglo-Irish Ascendancy: North Dublin. (Merrion Square was the first outpost
of the ton South of the Liffey, in
the late 18th Century.) Number 14’s 15 rooms first housed the family
of Viscount Molesworth of Swords. (I thought the “of Swords” part was
hilarious, like a suit of Tarot cards, but it turns out to be a district in
Ireland that nowadays surrounds Dublin Airport, so, carry on.)
After the Molesworths left Dublin for London in the 1750s, the premises
were occupied by various Anglo-Irish (meaning: Protestant) notables and then converted
to business use, including as law offices, courts and a barracks. By 1877 a guy
we’d call a developer these days, Thomas Vance, owned the place. He removed the
elegant staircase from the ground to the first floor, and converted 15 rooms
into 17 “flats”, each to be occupied by a family.
Interestingly, because 14 Henrietta had an interior water source
(pump on the ground floor) and gas laid on, it could legally pass for not a tenement (and thus charge higher rents), but that’s what it was
for the next hundred years. Families of up to 14 or so lived in single rooms
(that might or might not have been partitioned, but were still less than 300
square feet of space). The last tenants did not leave for other accommodation
until 1979.
At the museum, which really consists of the walking tour, you
start in three rooms of Georgian elegance, move down into the really rough
territory of early tenement life and end in a re-creation of rooms in the 1950s
and 1970s. Along the way, your guide ties the space you’re in to the greater
history of Dublin—aristocrats packing up to leave their townhouses for
spring-summer-fall in their country estates, the Acts of Union abolishing the
Irish Parliament, the business activities going on, population expansion
leading to tenements as a viable economic model for landlords, the catastrophic
Lockout of 1913, the Easter Uprising of 1916, world wars…the whole megillah. My
guide Gillian’s command of macro and micro history placed 14 Henrietta Street
in context.
And everything was focused on the people—those who lived and died
here. Rent records are sketchy, so we don’t have full knowledge of names of the
tenement dwellers, but where that was available, Gillian made sure we had the
picture.
The museum has an excellent digital component—periodically Gillian
would turn us over to the presentations, from Georgian life to children’s games
in the 1950s. She also updated us with stories of former residents who’ve come
by since the museum’s opening in September last year, and shared their
experiences. Largely, they viewed their lives at 14 Henrietta fondly, with a
sense of community that was lost when they were moved into housing with all mod
cons.
Here are some images from my visit. I did not think to shoot the
first couple of rooms, but here’s the entrance to the museum. During its
tenement days, the staircase was removed and a family of 11 lived here.
(I took this before they instructed us that we couldn’t shoot
video. It’s the only one I took.)
Here’s a bed built for the Molesworths:
One of the interesting things is that this (and other furniture)
would have been disassembled, packed on carts and carried with the family as it
moved between country and city houses. Pre-IKEA flatpack, as Gillian said.
This staircase would have been the servants’ during the viscount’s
time, but it became the only way up or down during its tenement days.
This was a basement flat, set up as it would have been in 1913; it’s
every bit as dire and oppressive as it looks.
As we wended our way up to the mid-20th Century, Gillian
was able to relate more information. For example, the Child of Prague was
frequently placed over the doorway to protect the family.
But one of the residents of this room, which had partitions
(sorry, I didn’t get a shot of the markings, but it was divided into four
spaces), in response to her question about privacy, told her that every
Saturday their parents sent all the kids off to the movies, and when they got
home, all the religious paintings were covered by tea towels.
Here’s a fireplace from the 50s, and some representative child
paraphernalia.
Note the wallpaper. Gillian showed us a sample of the original
that they copied. You can also see elements from the Georgian origins.
The last stop on the tour is this recreation of a flat from the
1970s. Check out the lino, which again is a reproduction of the original.
Eventually, after many governmental studies, residents of 14
Henrietta and similar tenements were moved to modern housing, like these flats behind the museum.
Much of the new building was in the
suburbs, however, which were alien lands for North Dubliners. Community ties were broken
up, women in particular were isolated, costs of food, other goods and
transportation were higher (one newspaper flashed on the presentation showed
that eggs in town cost two shillings the dozen, but in the ‘burbs they were three
shillings; that’s a big bite out of your budget). People had a hard time adjusting
to all the space they had, both within the walls and beyond.
As a veteran museum-goer, I have to say that 14 Henrietta Street knocked me out. I
only knew about it because James,
at Pearse Lyons Distillery, had recommended it (along with a couple of
others) when we were chatting at the whiskey tasting bar. As a historian, I’m
impressed with the presentation. When they get their feet further under the
table, I’m sure they’ll add on things that will enhance the experience, but I’m
very grateful that I lucked onto this on my trip last week. If you’re going to
Dublin, put 14 Henrietta on your must-do list.
