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You are > Home > The Annie Jameson-Marconi Story
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Thursday, June 24, 2010
The Annie Jameson-Marconi Story
IN HIGHGATE Cemetery in London rests the remains of an Enniscorthy lady whose inspirational influence on the discovery of wireless telegraphy, though internationally known, has rarely been given the acclaim it deserves.
The Enniscorthy connection with Marconi is well-known and is an important link with world history, but in this week’s column, we focus solely on the maternal Enniscorthy influence, that of his mother.
She was, of course, Annie Fenwick Jameson Marconi, whose son, Guglielmo Marconi, born in Italy of a clandestine romance which bears the hallmarks of intrigue and melodrama, revealing also some of the strict conventions of the 19th-century Victorian era, pioneered one of the greatest achievements in the social history of the world.
The story of Annie Jameson’s life brings into relief her many outstanding qualities. Intelligent, high-spirited, well-educated, loyal, she possessed in full measure the courage of her convictions which indirectly yielded such immeasurable, incalculable rewards of her own and the generations that followed.
Annie was the daughter of Andrew Jameson, who founded at Fairfield, Enniscorthy, one of the famous Jameson whiskey distilleries, merged since 1966 under the banner of Irish Distillers.
The Still, near the town, takes its name from that foundation. Previously it had been known as "The Forge," from the fact that a Mr. Phayre had an extensive forge there.
Curiously enough, the field outside the town was known as "Phayre’s Field," from which the name "Fairfield" originated.
Andrew Jameson had left his native Scotland, and with his two brothers, John and William, travelled to Ireland, the latter pair establishing the world famous Jameson Distillery at Bow Street, Dublin, in 1780. Its original building now houses the "Old Jameson Distillery" – a major Dublin tourist attraction.
Determined to found his own distillery, Andrew Jameson was drawn to Co. Wexford, renowned for successful mixed farming, and to Enniscorthy, in particular as a site for the new industry, because of the emphasis in the area on quality barley production and the abundant availability of pure drinking water.
It has been said that this part of the Wexford countryside was created purely for the making of whiskey!
It was to a new home at Daphne Castle, near Enniscorthy, that Andrew Jameson brought his bride, Margaret Millar, a Dublin girl, whose family were prominent in the commercial and social life of the capital.
Set in picturesque parkland, with a surrounding moat, near Enniscorthy town, just off the main New Ross road, Daphne Castle, once approached by a winding avenue which crossed a stone bridge over the Urrin river, was a residence of character built on a mound from which the beauty of the countryside for miles around was within view.
Daphne Castle, too, has gone. The stately home of the Jamesons, "where once a garden smiled," has succumbed to decay. Hardly a stone remains of the place where Annie Jameson, mother of Marconi, romped and played, sang, rebelled and spent her formative years.
To Daphne Castle, too, on frequent visits beyond boyhood, came Marconi himself, in the company of his mother and elder brother, Alfonso. As a teenager he must have become familiar with the sights and sounds of the Cathedral town and aspects of life there, perhaps, cherishing affection for his mother’s home town and the charm of the Slaney valley.
Annie Jameson was a beautiful girl with a magnificent soprano singing voice. It was a combination of these gifts allied to her own strong will that caused friction and disputes within the family circle.
An offer of an engagement at London’s Covent Garden, at a time when the operatic works of Wagner and Verdi were being informed in Britain for the first time, must have thrilled the Enniscorthy girl, the scarcely twenty years old.
Her parents, however, did not share her enthusiasm for a Covent Garden appearance and disapproved. They regarded a stage career as unthinkable and unacceptable for their daughter, especially at such a tender age, so their consent was withheld.
Adherents to a strict code of conduct then generally observed and formed by convention, the Jamesons and many others classed as gentry and of similar social status, had grave doubts about the respectability of the stage at that time.
The stage, of course, responded with song and sketches, bubbling over with sarcasm and as rich in satire as in melodic composition, some of which have survived to this day.
Noel Coward’s music hall ditty "Don’t Put Your Daughter On The Stage, Mrs. Worthington," which one hears occasionally on the radio, is a humorous reminder of the theatrical community’s reaction to the haughty arrogance of aristocracy in days long past.
However, the Jamesons were not tyrannical nor unjustly severe in their judgement or ruling: they were influenced by desire to do what was best for their daughter.
They were not opposed to Annie’s choice of a career in music, so they arranged for her to train in Italy where they reckoned the hazards she might encounter were minimised by the facts that she would reside with a family of banking background the de Renotis with whom the Jamesons were acquainted through business transactions.
Thus the Jamesons placated the wilful Annie for whom emigration held no fears nor nostalgia and, in due course, she found herself domiciled with the de Ronotis in Bologna and undergoing tuition for an operatic career in the city’s famed Conservatoire, in the company of many rising young hopefuls.
It was at the home of the de Ronitis that fate decreed that Annie Jameson would meet and fall in love with Guiseppi Marconi, a wealthy landowner and widower with one son. He was 38 and she was then only approaching 21.
Completely won over, she accepted his offer of marriage, withdrew from the Conservatoire and travelled home to seek her parents’ permission for her betrothal to the dashing, debonair Italian. To state that her parents were disappointed is putting it mildly. The fact is they were shattered.
However, Annie’s mind was made up. The handsome, confident Guiseppe was her choice of partner for life and all the entreative approaches of her father and mother failed to shake her resolve to marry him.
Notes and messages were smuggled between Annie and Guiseppe and, as soon as she came of age, the Enniscorthy girl eloped.
A reunion appointment at Boulogne in France was kept, the lovers were joined in wedlock and Annie Jameson returned to Bologna as the Signore Marconi.
She had joined a family of some affluence, long resident landowners in the Apennines, who stood high on the social scale, somewhat similar to Marconi’s Irish bride.
A year after the elopement, their first son, Alfonso, was born. The great inventor of wireless telegraphy, Guglielmo Marconi was born at Plazzio Marescalchi on April 25th 1874.
Guiseppe Marconi had separated from Annie and remarried long before his death on July 20th 1937, aged 63 years; Annie Fenwick Jameson Marconi died suddenly on June 3rd 1920, in her 81st year, and was interred alongside the graves and obelisks of many famous people, including George Eliot, Samuel Taylor, Mrs. Henry Wood and Karl Marx, in Highgate Cemetery, London.
Not even a plaque marks the site of Annie Jameson’s former home at the Daphne. Enniscorthy has yet to acknowledge that her status in world history and that of her illustrious son sheds honour and renown on the Slaney town.
Even if measured only in a commercial sense and valued only for its tourist interest, it is surprising that commemoration has not been done in acceptable, informative memorial form in a public place.
Note: I would like to appreciate the support of Mike Wall in presenting this week’s column.
His research in times past has been of immense benefit he was foremost in promoting the historic links between Enniscorthy and Marconi.
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