An Interview with Mary Birrell 

 

Mary Birrell grew up in Wemyss, and her great grandmother was the first mistress of the Wemyss School of Needlework. Here she shares her recollections of the School, and her own experience of growing up in a mining village. 

 

“My great grandmother was Jeannie Clooney, who later became Mrs Webster - in the villages we’re inclined to call people by their maiden names. She was originally from Craigrothie, but she moved here with her husband, who was a farmer, and had two small girls; my grandmother Agnes, and Jean, who died. My great grandmother Jeannie of course went into mourning, and suffered severe depression. She knew many of the staff from the Castle, and she was often invited in for tea. Dora Wemyss took an interest in Jeannie; she asked about her and found out that she had lost her child. She offered for Jeannie to do some sewing at the Castle to occupy her time, and was amazed at the quality of her work.

 

She was, without exception, the most accomplished sewer she had ever seen.

 

 

Dora therefore thought it would be worthwhile to have her properly trained, and Jeannie was sent to the Royal School of Needlework. The Wemyss School was started in the Castle when she came back, with six other girls who wanted to learn to sew. The School became so well known that Dora suggested they build a school especially for miner’s daughters. Dora Wemyss became Lady Henry Grosvenor [through marriage], and she was responsible for building the School. 36 girls at the time were taken on, but they weren’t kept if their work wasn’t perfect. If they were kept, as they got better they were given different positions in the School, and they taught each other. There was smocking, there was whitework, all sorts, and people came from all over to buy their work. My great granny was the first mistress, and my grandmother was a pupil. Girls would have to go into service in large homes in order to bring in an extra wage, so they were given the chance to go to the Wemyss School to learn how to sew and show what they had done. It became so well-known because everything they did had to be stitch-perfect.

 

The sons were all right, there were plenty of mines to work in. Even when I was a child this area was all mines, but the mining was more or less over by the time my children grew up. There were lots of kids around the estate when we were young; it was a great place for kids. My grandfather on my mother’s side was head gardener at the castle until he was 90, and we used to get a half-penny for every weed we could find and pull up. There was a beach too. The pits used to put all their rubbish on the beach; heaps and heaps of coal that couldn’t be used. When the pits closed all the rubbish eventually washed away.

 

My father and his family [the Tod family, who worked closely with the Wemyss family] were architects for seven generations, and they built all of the miners’ houses. Say you were in the pit, you got a miner’s cottage, which was very cheap, as it was part of your wage; there was no rent because the owner paid it, you got your coal for free as you were working in the mine, and you got your milk half price from the dairy. My dad’s sisters were  dairymaids down at the Castle. When the Coal Board took over [in 1947], they took over a lot of the houses, but when the Coal Board closed up and the houses were no longer needed, people were given the opportunity to buy their own homes.

 

Well, then World War II came in, and of course all these girls who were just at the learning stage were taken away into other jobs. There was a void in the School. Lady Victoria was in charge at that time, and my mother was still there, but she didn’t have a lot of time. My mother didn’t drive and lived in quite an isolated place, so she used to take work home with her, and that’s how I started to sew. You learned by seeing it done. We weren’t allowed to sit idle – I did a lot of mending. I really love to mend – apart from silk, if you have patience and time, there isn’t anything you can’t mend. A lot of people bought their quilts in, some things I just darned. When Annie Morgan died, Lady Victoria asked me to help. She said; ‘the School’s going to close; no one comes anymore. I think you should be the one to take over.’ I’d never had a proper lesson in my life, but I went anyway, and that was me there for 42 years! When I looked through all the lovely things that were there, I found some of my great granny’s work. Even my husband became interested – he started tracing some of the old designs onto canvas, and eventually started sewing himself. I did more mending, drawing designs, showing people around and trying to get work out so that people would regain interest.

 

Of course, during the war, there had been hardly anyone in the School - it just wasn’t used, and it was damp. There had always been plenty of coal before, but now there were only damp logs to burn. Naturally, the floors had rotted, and on a cold day, your hands clung to the needle they were so cold. Some of the materials were getting damp as well, especially the silks. We had to throw out the old gas lamps, so there wasn’t even any light. I knew we had to do something about it…

 

Mary Birrell retired in 2012, after 42 years of dedicated hard work, for which she received an MBE. With the support of the Wemyss family trustees, the School has now been modernised and refurbished as Mary had

hoped it would be.

 

 

 

The interview was transcribed by Danielle Dray, of our Publication Team