Catherine Disney (1800-1853) is known as the ‘lost love’ of the Irish mathematician Sir William Rowan Hamilton (1805-1865), but about herself little is known. Based on what Hamilton wrote about her and scraps of information which were found on various places, extended with conclusions which could be drawn from known events, this is a sketch of how she fell in love with Hamilton in 1824, what the motives may have been for her family to force her to marry the reverend William Barlow (1792-1871), what may have triggered her suicide attempt in 1848 after which she did not live with Barlow any more, and how she spoke with Hamilton shortly before she died. In these two interviews she could finally tell Hamilton that she had also loved him.
In the last chapters it is discussed how Catherine’s unhappiness seems to have influenced her eldest son, James Barlow (1826-1913), and through him also her granddaughter Jane Barlow (1856-1917). This sketch is supplementary to the essay A Victorian Marriage : Sir William Rowan Hamilton. But being self-contained, it can also be read on its own.
Due to the scarcity of information about Catherine Disney, in this sketch I interpreted far more freely than I did in the essay about Hamilton. If there are readers who believe that I have misinterpreted or left out important information, or who have additional information, I would be very happy to hear about it: email@example.com.
The sketch can be downloaded below as a pdf or an epub.
For further publications, see Publications
This book will only be printed in hardback copies, which will cost €27.50 each (not including postal charges). It is freely available online, for instance on Google Books, Catherine Disney, but in case paper books are indeed preferred: they can be ordered by filling in a form at BoekenGilde. Clicking on the box: Beschikbaarheid opvragen = Request availability, shows the form in which Naam = Name, E-mailadres = E-mail address, Gewenst aantal boeken = Desired number of books, Versturen = Send. It will be read both by BoekenGilde and me; if we receive ten requests, the corrected version of the sketch will be printed in an again small edition.
The epub was made with a beautiful template my nephew had made for me when I was writing A Victorian marriage. But because Google Books and some e-readers require epub 2 or 3, I made two additional versions, Catherine_Disney_2.0.1.epub, Catherine_Disney_3.0.1.epub
Using the ideas developed in my essay A Victorian Marriage : Sir William Rowan Hamilton, which can be read in the BookReader link at the top of this page or downloaded here, a summary of our view on how Catherine’s unhappiness influenced Hamilton can be found in the article we wrote about him: A most gossiped about genius : Sir William Rowan Hamilton.
Utrecht, 11 June 2019
After I had finished my sketch about Catherine, it slowly began to dawn on me that something was wrong with her family tree on the Geni website. In my sketch I had happily mentioned that Catherine’s lineage could be followed up to her first known ancestor, Lambert De Isney, but looking at John Burke’s A genealogical and heraldic history of the commoners of Great Britain and Ireland again, it became obvious that it was impossible. The problem was that to the family of Sir Henry D'Isney (1569-1641) a son, William Disney Sr. (ca 1600-1667), had been added who was not in Burke’s Commoners.
Searching online for more information, it appeared that in his Commoners Burke only gives three sons of Sir Henry D'Isney, namely William (1589-1656), John (1603-1680/1681) and Thomas (1606-..), because the other sons died young. William was from Henry's first marriage; Burke gives his male lineage which ended in 1722. Burke also gives the lineages of John and Thomas which continue until long after 1622, the estimated birth year of the John Disney of whom it is certain that he was an ancestor of Catherine. It is therefore impossible that Catherine was a descendant of Lambert De Isney in the line of eldest sons and heirs.
Searching again for information I came across a remarkable book which I had not seen before. I had seen, and quoted from, the 1995 book by Hugh Disney, Disneys of Stabannon, but this 1997 book by Edward Disney, Hugh Disney and Twila Johnson Beck, A Story of Disneys : Some Myths Exploded, was new to me. It then also appeared that this book can freely be read online through FamilySearch, after making an account. The book contains a clear confirmation that the aforementioned William Disney Sr., who came to Ireland as a lieutenant colonel in Cromwell’s army, was the earliest known direct ancestor of Catherine, and that he was not a son of Henry D’Isney. The link between Henry and William in de Geni website has now been removed, and Catherine does not have a direct line to Lambert De Insey anymore. Hopefully, someday someone will find out how she was related to this older branch, because it can easily be assumed that they were indeed family, but through someone’s younger brother.
The book also contained a real surprise. Because in 1838 Thomas Disney had written that he had three unmarried daughters while I had found only two, and of the names of the grandparents only Patience and Coote had not been given to one of the childrenchild, I had assumed that Catherine must have had an older sister called Patience, or Patience Coote. Indeed, there had been an older sister Patience, who was even born in the year I had guessed, 1795, but sadly, she had died again in the same year. I had not thought of that. The missing daughter was, apparently, Sarah, who according to the Myths exploded was born around 1813, making her one of the youngest Disney children. Thomas and Anne thus had fifteen children instead of the fourteen I had found.
And there were two, to me unknown, quotes in the book, again perfectly fitting Catherine’s terrible story as deduced from the scarce information. The first is from Hamilton, according to Myths Exploded written shortly before Catherine died, “I rarely hear the Commandments or repeat the Lord’s Prayer without putting up a secret petition that I may never love her too much or Him too little.” The second was made by Catherine’s eldest son James Barlow, showing how very difficult her life had been (and therewith explaining Hamilton’s great distress). After his mother’s death he wrote to his uncle Thomas, “I know the change a happy one for her, as she was for so long a time in a very great mental affliction and depression.”
Utrecht, 24 April 2019
The books have arrived, and I was surprised about how thin they are. I did work on Catherine’s sketch for about half the time I needed for Hamilton’s essay, and I also knew of course that the sketch had much less pages, yet it did not feel so different, also because it was much more difficult to write. The digital world is strange: places on the other side of the earth seem close by, and books do not have comprehensible sizes.
Because my books have been printed in only very small editions, and I wanted to give some of the copies to family and friends, I was worrying about writing in the books; my handwriting is not that good. So Rietje Smeets made two beautiful cards to go with the books, which I can write on and waste until it seems alright.
On the left side of the card for Catherine’s sketch a quote from a poem by Hamilton is given, because there is hardly any description of Catherine, and this is one of the few. Beneath it there are three little angels, photographed at the ceiling, or a wall, of Summerhill. I wanted to show it because it was from the house where Catherine and Hamilton saw each other for the first time, but it could also symbolize (not too seriously) Hamilton, Helen Bayly and Catherine Disney, yet without any indication of who is who. The three photos on the right side are all Regency-like scenes. The first is ‘Music lesson’ by Vittorio Reggianini (1858-1938); if Catherine later could play the harp she must have had lessons. The second is a dinner in Regency style, dining together with family and friends or visitors was a very common thing to do, and in Hamilton’s biography indeed very many dinners are mentioned. The third scene is also by Reggianini, see ‘The Letter’, here it represents Catherine and her sister reading Hamilton’s Valentine poem.
On the left side of the card for Hamilton’s essay a quote can be seen about which Hamilton wrote, “Be such my epitaph!” Beneath the quaternion equations are two quaternion fractals, a Mandelbrot and a Julia fractal, see for instance Hypercomplex Fractals. The three photos on the right also have to do with quaternions: they were used in the Space shuttle program, in Tomb Raider making the movements of Lara Croft and her background so smoothly, and for the Hubble telescope. I should perhaps also have chosen something in connection with his mechanics, but that did not give so many nice pictures as quaternions did.
Utrecht, 5 April 2019
On the 31th of March I finally finished the sketch about Catherine. It has been uploaded to our Royal Library and to Google Books, and the files have been sent to the printer. I am now making an epub.
And of course, the printer’s ink not yet dry (actually, not even wet yet) I found a mistake. In the story of the haunted Rectory in Carlingford, I imagined Catherine as a sixteen year old girl in a red dress. The red dress because the apparition wore one, sixteen because that is what the girl in the red dress said about herself in Hans Holzer’s chapter about the haunted Rectory of Carlingford in Ghosts: True Encounters with the World Beyond.
I then erroneously assumed that Catherine’s red dress would be Victorian,* but she was of course sixteen in the Regency period, and those dresses were quite different from the Victorian dresses. Searching for Regency dresses I saw that they were indeed much smaller than Victorian dresses, therefore perhaps more like Edwardian ones, which would have fitted the story even better. But then I also saw that the Victorian dinner and day dresses were much smaller than I had imagined, apparently, the enormous skirts I mentioned in the footnote were Victorian ball gowns. There is much to know about fashion.
For comparison: on the left a drawing of a dinner dress, published in Januari 1825, the month in which Hamilton wrote to Uncle James about Catherine, and only a few weeks before he wrote his Valentine poem. Looking at the woman’s hairstyle, that is in complete accord with that of Catherine’s, which could again be a confirmation, next to looking rather young and not unhappy yet, that the drawing of Catherine was made around the time that she fell in love with Hamilton. In the middle an 1840 Victorian day dress, Catherine lived in Carlingford then. On the right a 1904 Edwardian dinner dress.
* Because twenty more books will be printed, I took the opportunity and corrected the footnote; now Catherine’s apparition is wearing a Regency dress. Where it was possible the books in e-form have been changed accordingly, it is a pity that the one in the Royal Library cannot be replaced.
But during these searches I saw a remarkable painting, The Letter, by Vittorio Reggianini (1858-1938). He was born after the Regency but painted scenes apparently from that period, and looking at this painting it struck me how much the woman with the blonde hair looked like Catherine.** Suddenly it was far more easy to see Catherine smile, talk, and play the harp. I then imagined that she showed Hamilton’s Valentine poem to her sister Anne Eliza, and that they reread it together on the couch. There is a fair chance that she really did that, because Anne Eliza befriended Hamilton’s sister Eliza who, perhaps through her, seems to have known what Catherine felt for Hamilton. Tragic, that they could not talk about such things.
** Apparently, that has something to do with the beeldcode (literally translated from Dutch, I did not find a good translation yet) of that period: how an artist should depict people in such way that they would look beautiful (or whatever characteristic trait should be emphasized) in the eyes of their contemporaries.
Utrecht, 8 March 2019
Today is International Women’s Day, which seems to be a marvellous day to put the last draft of the sketch about Catherine Disney online at ResearchGate. As a celebration that in most parts of the world forcing women into marriage is not possible any more. Catherine’s life would have been very different and very much happier if she had not been coerced into her loveless marriage, and it is hoped and should be worked towards, that soon all over the world such a practice will become unimaginable, and no woman will lose her life any more in the way Catherine lost hers.
Note added 5 April: That RG link contains the final version now.
Utrecht, 3 November 2018
Today 165 years ago Catherine Disney died, five years after she had made an attempt at suicide by taking laudanum. She did not love the man she had been forced to marry, and her unhappiness may have been worsened by the death of two young sons. She survived though, and thereafter lived mainly with family. In her last weeks she was finally able to explain what had happened to her to the love of her life, in two intensely emotional interviews. A golden lining at the end of her very difficult life.
The view on Hamilton given here and in the sketch is motivated extensively in my essay about him, A Victorian Marriage : Sir William Rowan Hamilton. The events described in the sketch all come from Hamilton’s letters, except what happened during Catherine’s 1845 visit to the Observatory, what happened in Carlingford around Catherine’s suicide attempt in 1848 and when and how she was brought to her brother in Newtown-Hamilton, and whether or not she attended her eldest son’s wedding in 1853.
But because not much is known about Catherine Disney, and nothing is known about her own view on her story, in the sketch that is extrapolated from the scarce information there is about her, yet at the same time firmly based on Hamilton’s observations of how she felt. Even though in some aspects Catherine may have seen things slightly differently, due to Hamilton’s two main biographies there is no doubt about her unhappiness, her love for Hamilton, her love for her children, and her rejection of her husband, and this is the thread which runs through the sketch.
Three of Catherine’s seven sons died young: William Brownlow (1831-1841), Maxwell Close (1837-1838), and John Lambert (1841-1849). Missing here is Catherine’s fifth son Arthur Edward Barlow (1835-1911). Of him no photo was found, but there is an interesting letter from him during his time as Commander on the steamship Nizam. It was written in March 1876, and Arthur Edward describes the saving of a life at sea by a life-buoy, invented by Holmes [All websites accessed 3 November 2018].
For two photos of Brabazon’s wife see Harriette Ellen Guinness.
While searching for information about Carlingford, where Catherine lived when she made her attempt at suicide, I came across a most remarkable story which concerned ghost stories about a haunted Rectory in Carlingford. In the 1960s a ghost hunter had conjectured that it had been about a romantic tragedy in the mid nineteenth century, involving a girl with golden hair in a red dress and a clergyman. Then it indeed turned out the be the house where the Barlows had lived, in their time called the Glebe House and later the Rectory.
Thinking about Barlow’s side of their story it seemed to me that that was visualized by the haunted Rectory. For his times not having made an extreme decision when insisting on marrying Catherine, in some way he also was a victim of their times. He certainly will have hoped for many years that his marriage would work out after all, and that the beautiful and radiant girl with the golden locks he had fallen in love with so many years ago would return in her if he would be a very good husband. But having lost two of their sons in Carlingford he will have lost all hope that his wife would ever become her happy self again, and for him that town with all its ruins may have become the embodiment of the ruins of his life. I did not imagine Catherine to be doomed to stay in Carlingford as a ghost, but that the clergyman in the story thus visualizes Barlow who in his mind stayed in Carlingford forever, chasing the beautiful young girl she once had been, always hoping against all knowledge that in the end she would learn to love him as she should. And who was not able to accept that he finally lost her completely.
Realizing that Catherine made her suicide attempt in 1848 the conclusion about the time of the tragedy, the mid nineteenth century, is certainly remarkable. But ghosts do not seem necessary at all in searching for explanations where the ghost stories came from. Many people must have known about Catherine’s unhappiness and her attempt. People talked with her, she was after all the reverend’s wife, and they will have noticed long before her attempt that something was wrong. The Barlows had staff and nursemaids who must have known, Catherine had to buy the laudanum somewhere, and after her attempt she had to be taken care of. She then left Carlingford, never to return anymore, but for some time Barlow and perhaps the children still lived there, and suicide was not openly talked about then. Therefore, over the generations people may have slowly started to forget about whom the tragic stories had been told. But that it had happened in the Rectory, that part was well remembered, explaining the legend about the haunted Rectory.