Convent of Mercy National School (Claremorris)

Taxonomy

Code

Scope note(s)

Source note(s)

Display note(s)

Hierarchical terms

Convent of Mercy National School (Claremorris)

Convent of Mercy National School (Claremorris)

Equivalent terms

Convent of Mercy National School (Claremorris)

Associated terms

Convent of Mercy National School (Claremorris)

1 Name results for Convent of Mercy National School (Claremorris)

Only results directly related

Carbery, John Joseph, 1897-1918, Jesuit scholastic

  • IE IJA J/1009
  • Person
  • 13 April 1897-17 January 1918

Born: 13 April 1897, Rathculiheen, County Waterford / Beechgrove, Drogheda, County Louth
Entered: 31 August 1914, St Stanislaus College, Tullabeg, County Offaly (HIB for Siculae Province - SIC)
Died: 17 January 1918, Beechgrove, Drogheda, County Louth

Part of the Rathfarnham Castle, Dublin community at the time of death.

Father was a District Inspector if the Royal Irish Constabulary and lives with his mother at Beechgrove, Drogheda.

Eldest of three sons and one sister.

Early education at a Convent school in Claremorris, County Mayo, they moved to Drogheda and he went to the Christian Brothers School there. In 1913 he went to Clongowes Wood College SJ

◆ HIB Menologies SJ :
Eldest son of Mr J A Carbery, District Inspector, RIC Drogheda.
He obtained Exhibitions at the Christian Brothers School, Drogheda, and at Clongowes. He won the medal in Science at Middle and Senior Grade.

It was while moving from Tullabeg to Rathfarnham that he got a chill while cycling. He spent some time in St Vincent’s, Dublin, but was then removed to his parents residence in Drogheda about four weeks before his death. He died at Beechgrove, Drogheda 17 January 1918, and was buried at his own desire in Glasnevin.

◆ The Clongownian, 1918

Obituary

John Carbery SJ

We are glad to be able to publish the following affectionate tribute to the memory of Mr Carbery SJ, who died in January, 1918:

John J Carbery was just one year at Clongowes and he was practically without interest in the games. Yet I doubt if there were many boys in the College at the end of 1914 better known or better liked. He had the very best of those qualities which make for admiration and affection, the constituent elements, as he would have said, of popularity. Not merely was he a first-class mathematician and probably one of the best Chemistry pupils Clongowes ever taught, but he had a universality of interest in intellectual things rarely ound in a school boy. He had read widely in English, was more than moderately proficient in three or four languages, and was both practically and theoretically, in Nature study. Indeed he had one of the widest and most curious, as well as one of the soundest, intellects I have ever met. His gaiety and his good nature, more than willing, seeking to confer benefits at whatever self-sacrifice, secured him well-deserved affection. Clongowes loved him and he undeniably loved Clongowes. He left it to join the Jesuits, and to Tullabeg, he carried the same unique, and, therefore, somewhat inscrutable personality. He saw it through more or less alone as the saints did, and religious life had for him, with his delicate health and peculiar originality, more than the usual crosses. When he was leaving Tullabeg last August he undertook a long bicycle ride to see Clongowes once again. On the journey at first he was tired and lifeless, but as he approached Clongowes he was all excitement. He recalled walks between the avenue elms, days on the ice, journeys, pleasant or sad, on the long procession of cars up and down the back avenue. We could only stay an hour or so, yet he re-explored the house, the galleries, the bath, the infirmary, the library, First, Senior, the chapel. Once on the road again excitement and energy had vanished. A few days later he made his annual Retreat and within a fortnight of his Clongowes visit went to his bed, sick to death. A long illness prepared him for a mercifully, yet startingly, sudden death. He was not 21 when he died in his own home amongst his own family. Surely it is for them, for his brothers who have left us so short a time ago, for ourselves, for the unfulfilled promises of the riotous profusion of his spring time that we grieve. He himself is beyond sorrow.

MB