As its name
suggests, Ireland’s Great Hunger Museum at Quinnipiac University, dedicated on
September 28, 2012, seeks to inform the public of the causes and consequences
of Ireland’s Great Hunger. A potato fungus, bad weather and an inhumane British
government policy combined from 1845 through 1852 to cause more than one
million deaths from starvation and related diseases, and the emigration of more
than two million Irish people from their native land.
A recent trip to
the museum revealed it has chosen a compelling medium to render this history:
art, executed by Irish artists.
The full power
of the museum shows itself on the second floor. Formed in the shape of a ship,
it holds 20th-century artworks, along with an exhibit of 19th-century
news publications.
In John Behan’s bronze
“Famine Cart,” an emaciated horse hauls skeletons. A small-scale replica of
Behan’s “Famine Ship” shows three masts depicting the crosses of Calvary, with
skeletons as ship’s sails. Robert Ballagh’s beautiful stained-glass triptych
“An Gorta Mor” gives weight to the full cycle of events, from bucolic farm
scene to blight to eviction.
Margaret Lyster
Chamberlain’s “The Leave-Taking,” also in bronze, depicts 17 Irish people
moving toward starvation or the perils of the Atlantic crossing. For her
depiction, Chamberlain relied on photographs from Auschwitz.
With the
technology of photography in its infancy in the mid-1800s, no known photos have
surfaced of Irish famine victims. But illustrated newspapers depicted the horrors.
The illustration of Brigid O’Donnel with her two starving children, rendered in
bronze by Behan and on display at the museum, came to symbolize the national
plight.
In Micheal
Farrell’s “Black ’47,” skeletons serve as prosecution witnesses against Charles
Trevelyan and British policy. Farrell’s work shows the legal nature of man’s
inhumanity to man. Kieran Tuohy’s “The Lonely Widow,” carved from 5,000-year-old
bog oak, hints at its antiquity.
The sultan of
Turkey, depicted in Farrell’s large painting, offered Ireland £10,000 in famine
relief. Britain persuaded him to reduce his offering to £1,000 in deference to Queen Victoria, who
offered the Irish £2,000.
The sultan complied with Britain’s request. He then secretly sent three ships
loaded with food to the beleaguered country.
My sojourn to
Quinnipiac was followed by a trip to Litchfield, Connecticut, where the
Litchfield Historical Society hosted the daylong program “The New America:
Discovering and Documenting the Immigrant Experience.” Grace Brady, executive
director of Ireland’s Great Hunger Museum, closed the program’s events. Brady’s
presentation included slides of the museum’s collection.
The slides
included Lilian Davidson’s “Burying the Child,” its blues reminiscent of
Picasso. In Davidson’s painting, a father whose skill in digging potatoes
helped his family to thrive now uses that skill to bury his child. The mother
stands holding the baby, a study in despair. The adults in this painting who
witnessed the burial will soon find their own graves.
Pádraic Reaney’s
“Departure,” a haunting work in red and blue, shows skeletal figures
aboveground stalking toward death from starvation or emigration. Figures buried
below suggest Oscar Wilde’s quote: “Where there is sorrow there is holy
ground.” Brady spoke of succeeding Irish generations telling children to take
note of where they trod, and of what lay buried beneath them.
Brady spoke of
the Choctaw Indians, a decade and a half after their forced march along the
“Trail of Tears,” identifying with the oppression of the Irish by the British
government. At the height of the Great Hunger in 1847 the Choctaw, in the midst
of their own privations, sent $170 to Ireland for relief efforts.
Brady also spoke
of “callous neglect” on the part of the British government. She described the
use of battering rams by British soldiers to empty cottages of families, and
the “unroofing” of cottages in the midst of winter. She spoke of the desire on
the part of some in the British government to deal with “the surplus” of Irish
people, with policies that proved an effective strategy.
Civilized
societies honor their history. The girds of civilization help mitigate even the
most unimaginable horrors. In Litchfield, the historical society that offered
the venue to explore this dark history offered a boxed lunch. Curried chicken
salad came alongside a small plate of brie, with sliced green apple and a few
pansy blossoms.
The society’s
tour included a visit to St. Michael’s Episcopal Church on South Street. There,
visitors viewed the church’s stone and wood carvings chiseled by Italian immigrants.
In the warm light, the anonymous wooden faces glinted with humor and
intelligence.
The
transformative power of art remains one of the most enduring tools in our
collective march toward civilization. Ireland’s Great Hunger Museum owes its
existence to the vision of John Lahey, president of Quinnipiac University, and to the generosity of Murray Lender.
Without their efforts, this compelling body of work would not be securely
housed under one roof.
Lahey helped
secure Rowan Gillespie’s “The Victim” as the collection’s first work of art. In
Gillespie’s bronze, a sitting boy wrapped only in a cloak lifts his face toward
the future. The work captures both the horror and the endurance of humanity
during that time. It serves as a touchstone for all who wish to honor, preserve
and value our collective history.
