Los niños del Dresden

El orfanato irlandés de Capilla del Señor y las vidas que la historia olvidó

En mayo de 1891, mientras el fracaso de la colonia de Napostá se convertía en un escándalo en los medios de la época, un diario de Buenos Aires publicó una breve frase que hoy adquiere una dimensión enorme:

the boys have been located in an orphanage in Calle Cochabamba under the care of a committee of Irish ladies.

Detrás de esa línea había niños de las familias que habían llegado dos años antes a bordo del Dresden. Habían vivido en carne propia todos esos primeros días de arribo al puerto de Buenos Aires, habían viajado al medio de la nada, solo con puesto, para montar el proyecto de colonia que prometía tierras, prosperidad y una nueva vida en la Argentina. 

Algunos de estos niños habían perdido a sus padres. Otros habían sido separados de sus familias por la pobreza, las enfermedades o el abandono mismo.

Ese orfanato de la Calle Cochabamba sería el origen del Colegio Fahy.

Más de un siglo después, los nombres de algunos de esos chicos todavía pueden encontrarse en el Censo Nacional de 1895, registrados en Capilla del Señor junto a Sor Catalina de Cristo Dowling.

En el sitio de la Asociación de Señoras de San José (link del sitio) puede leerse una breve historia institucional sobre la llegada de inmigrantes irlandeses a la Argentina y la creación de una obra destinada a asistir a niños huérfanos. El texto conserva una memoria profundamente valiosa, aunque mezcla fechas, cifras y nombres.

La narración afirma que el barco llegó el 8 de febrero de 1889 y menciona al “City of Dresden”. Sin embargo, las listas de pasajeros y la documentación contemporánea sitúan el arribo del Dresden en Buenos Aires el 15 de febrero de 1889.

También aparecen exageraciones numéricas y simplificaciones inevitables en una memoria transmitida durante generaciones. Pero detrás de esas imprecisiones hay un núcleo histórico indiscutible: el recibimiento de los inmigrantes fue caótico: el proyecto colonizador de Napostá terminó en desastre, muchas familias quedaron en la miseria, familias que se separaron y disgregaron, hubo niños huérfanos o abandonados y la comunidad irlandesa y angloargentina fue la que organizó una red de ayuda concreta para asistirlos.

En mayo de 1891, el Liverpool Mercury publicó extractos del informe del vicecónsul británico Charles Ansell sobre la colonia de Napostá. El cuadro era devastador: malas cosechas, herramientas insuficientes, reducción de raciones, endeudamiento imposible de sostener y prohibiciones absurdas que impedían a los colonos salir a buscar trabajo cuando no tenían nada que hacer en la colonia.

El informe hacía referencia a 76 familias (397 personas) atrapadas en un sistema que prácticamente había colapsado. Las deudas superaban ampliamente el valor de las tierras y los colonos denunciaban haber sido tratados injustamente.

Argentina por ese entonces, entre mediados de 1889 y 1891, cae en una crisis económica fuertísima y una revolución con cambio de gobierno incluido que no hacía más que complicar todo el cuadro antes descrito.

Otro artículo del Irish Times resumía crudamente el problema:

The Argentine Government agents induced the poor people to leave home under false promises.

El sueño agrícola prometido a cientos de inmigrantes irlandeses e ingleses se había transformado en hambre, enfermedad y desintegración familiar.

Las noticias de la época mencionan además muertes por privaciones y enfermedades. La disentería aparece repetidamente en distintos testimonios vinculados a Napostá y a los primeros meses posteriores al desembarco.

Frente al colapso de Napostá, comenzó una vez más a organizarse una red de ayuda impulsada por el Consulado Británico, miembros de la comunidad irlandesa y distintas instituciones religiosas y benéficas de Buenos Aires.

Las noticias de 1891 muestran que la asistencia no fue improvisada ni marginal. Hubo reuniones públicas, colectas, campañas en la prensa y coordinación con el gobierno argentino.

En uno de los artículos más importantes de toda esta historia, The Standard relató el traslado de familias sobrevivientes a nuevas colonias en Santa Fe y Entre Ríos, y agregó un dato fue la piedra fundamental del colegio Fahy:

the Irish nuns hospitably received some of the little girls gratis, and the boys have been located in an orphanage in Calle Cochabamba under the care of a committee of Irish ladies.

La noticia permite además identificar a varias de las mujeres involucradas en la organización y financiación de la institución: Maria M. de Mulhall, Mrs. Thomas Duggan, Mrs. Hanly, Mrs. O’Farrell, Mrs. Nelson y Miss Ryan entre otras.

La red de socorro no fue solamente irlandesa. Participaron también miembros de la comunidad inglesa y figuras argentinas vinculadas al sistema migratorio y a instituciones de beneficencia.

La documentación contemporánea permite afirmar que el colegio Fahy nació primero como una respuesta de emergencia frente a la crisis de los inmigrantes del Dresden.

El 24 de mayo de 1891, The Standard publicó una nota titulada The Boys’ Orphanage donde aparece formalmente el nombre “Fahy School for Irish Boys”, ubicado en Cochabamba 146, Buenos Aires.

La publicación reproduce incluso una carta enviada por Maria Mulhall a Juan Alsina, Comisario General de Inmigración, agradeciendo una donación oficial de 4.000 pesos moneda nacional para sostener el orfanato, què aproximadamente a plata de hoy serían entre USD 60.000 y USD 70.000 (según la inflación histórica estadounidense de largo plazo).

La donación realizada por el gobierno argentino en 1891 representaba, más allá de la actualización, una suma enorme para la época como para sostener durante meses el funcionamiento del orfanato.

También se detallan los aportes económicos, los nombres de los donantes, la apertura de una cuenta bancaria y las instrucciones para solicitar vacantes para los chicos.

Todo esto muestra que el Fahy no surgió inicialmente como un colegio tradicional, sino como una institución creada para contener a niños afectados por una crisis concreta directamente relacionada con la historia del Dresden y el cierre de la colonia de Napostá.

Años más tarde, el establecimiento sería trasladado a Capilla del Señor.

Sor Catalina y el Fahy de Exaltación de la Cruz

Las reconstrucciones posteriores suelen mencionar a “Mother Catherine Dowlan” como responsable del colegio de Capilla del Señor. 

La documentación de las Hermanas Pobres Bonaerenses de San José identifica a la superiora como Sor Catalina de Cristo Dowling, quien asumió la conducción de la casa desde abril de 1893 (https://pobresbonaerensesdesanjose.com/storage/2022/09/Exaltacion-de-la-cruz-1893.pdf).

El establecimiento fue concebido como colegio de huérfanos irlandeses, espacio educativo y casa de asistencia para chicos afectados por la crisis migratoria.

En el Segundo Censo Nacional de 1895, realizado en Exaltación de la Cruz, vuelve a aparecer Sor Catalina de Cristo Dowling acompañada por una larga lista de niños irlandeses e ingleses alojados en la institución.

Esta lista del censo de 1895 incluye decenas de chicos:

• Mauricio Hickey

• Miguel José Lamb

• Orourk Lamb

• José O’Sullivan

• Timoteo Mac Namarra

• Juan Ward

• Santiago Ward

• Miguel Murphy

• Juan Farrel

• José Farrel

• Eugenio Carney

• Ricardo Kiernan

• James Nally

• Francisco Caffrey

Al cruzar esos nombres con la lista de pasajeros del Dresden, comienzan a aparecer coincidencias extraordinarias.

Mauricio Hickey coincide casi perfectamente con Maurice Hickey, un niño de cuatro años que viajó junto a Michael y Kate Hickey en 1889.

Timoteo Mac Namarra parece corresponderse con Timothy McNamara, hijo de Michael y Bridget McNamara.

Los casos de Miguel José Lamb y “Orouk” son todavía más sorprendentes: en el manifiesto del Dresden aparece una familia Lamb con los niños Joseph Lamb y Orourk Lamb. La rareza del nombre “Orourk” convierte ese cruce en una coincidencia extremadamente fuerte.

También aparecen posibles correspondencias para los hermanos Ward, varios O’Sullivan y distintos chicos Murphy y Farrell.

No todos los casos pueden cerrarse documentalmente. Algunos apellidos aparecen deformados, castellanizados o mal transcriptos. Pero el patrón general resulta difícil de ignorar: los niños del Fahy parecen ser, en muchos casos, los hijos de las familias que habían llegado a bordo del Dresden.

Mauricio Hickey: una vida después del Dresden

Décadas después del censo de 1895 aparece un presbítero llamado Mauricio Hickey desarrollando actividad pastoral en distintos puntos de la provincia de Buenos Aires.

La Guía Eclesiástica de la República Argentina de 1915 ya lo menciona como teniente cura en Lomas de Zamora.

Más tarde aparece como párroco en Salto, impulsando obras educativas, proyectos comunitarios y la creación de una Escuela y Banda Municipal en 1929.

También dejó huella en Temperley, donde promovió instituciones parroquiales y educativas vinculadas a Nuestra Señora de la Piedad y a la futura Escuela de Comercio Tomás Espora.

Cronológicamente, todo encaja de manera notable con el niño Maurice Hickey del Dresden y con el Mauricio Hickey registrado en el Fahy de Capilla del Señor en 1895.

Todavía no apareció el documento definitivo que permita afirmar que se trata de la misma persona.

Pero la convergencia biográfica, temporal y onomástica es demasiado fuerte para ignorarla.

Un niño inmigrante posiblemente huérfano terminó convertido, quizás, en sacerdote, educador y constructor de comunidad.

Pero sus padres no aparecen en registro alguno en Argentina. Hay una pista que podría ubicarlos en Estados Unidos en un registro de un nuevo nacimiento algunos años más tarde. Serían ellos? Habrían dejado al cuidado del Fahy a Mauricio y ellos re-emigrado? Ya lo sabremos.

La historia del Fahy School obliga a mirar el episodio del Dresden desde otro lugar.

No solamente como una experiencia migratoria fallida.

Sino también como una historia de infancia, desarraigo y supervivencia.

Detrás de cada apellido del censo había un chico que atravesó uno de los episodios migratorios más traumáticos de la historia irlandesa en la Argentina.

Muchos perdieron a sus padres.

Otros quedaron atrapados entre idiomas, instituciones y mundos desconocidos.

Y sin embargo, algunos lograron reconstruir sus vidas.

El Fahy no fue solamente una escuela.

Para muchos de esos chicos, fue probablemente la frontera entre el abandono y una segunda oportunidad.

The Martins of the Dresden

On the cold winter's night of 23rd January 1889, the docks of Southampton were shaken by a momentous farewell. Hundreds of people gathered to say goodbye to the relatives travelling on the maiden voyage of the steamship SS Dresden, under this new migratory scheme of subsidised passages, bound for Buenos Aires—with a stop at Queenstown (now Cobh)—in search of a future that the agents' promises painted as prosperous and bright.

Among those travellers were two families who shared a surname and a story that, more than a century later, I shall begin to reconstruct with the information within my reach. These were the Martins.

Albert Martin, a carpenter and joiner aged thirty-nine, boarded the ship with his wife Eliza Jane and their four young children: Frederick, Edith, Jessie, and Eliza Rose. He was accompanied by his elder brother, Reuben Barker Martin, a bricklayer of forty-two, who travelled with his wife Sarah Ann and their six children, among them Charles William—Charlie, as he was called—a lad of seventeen who would soon share both roof and trade with his uncle Albert in the Argentine capital.

The Martin family's roots stretch back to the heart of Hampshire. Albert was born in 1851 in Brockenhurst, a small village nestled in the New Forest, and was baptised on 30th November of that year in the historic church of St Mary's, Southampton. His parents, Joseph and Mercy Martin, gave him a name that was fashionable in Victorian England. Reuben, the elder brother, was also born in Brockenhurst, in 1847.

By 1881, the English census provides a revealing snapshot of the lives of both brothers. Albert was residing in the district of Southampton St Mary, a dense and bustling area, and worked as a House Carpenter And Joiner 1st Class Army Reserve—that is, a first-class carpenter and joiner in the Army Reserve. This detail, seemingly minor, is significant: Albert was no mere civilian tradesman; he had received military training as an army carpenter, a distinction that undoubtedly conferred a higher status upon his craft. In this census he was already married to Eliza Jane, a native of Shirley, and they had two small children: Frederick A., aged one, and the newborn Edith F.

His brother Reuben, for his part, had achieved an even more prosperous position. In the 1881 census he is recorded as residing in South Stoneham, Hampshire, with the occupation Master Bricklayer & Grocer Employing 9 men & 4 boys. Reuben had diversified his business and become a small entrepreneur in the local construction and retail trade. He was married to Sarah Ann and they already had five children: Charles W., Amy C., William H., Emily E., and Jessie S. The 1871 census, a decade earlier, had placed them in Ashford, Middlesex, on the outskirts of London, where Reuben, then twenty-four, worked as a simple bricklayer.

The decision to emigrate to Argentina in 1889, despite the economic stability they had achieved, remains something of a puzzle. Perhaps the promises of land and railway contracts in South America, spread by immigration agents and the press, led them to believe they might expand their horizons on an even grander scale. What is certain is that, in early 1889, both families sold what they possessed and embarked upon the adventure.

The Letter

The SS Dresden arrived in the River Plate on 15th February 1889, after nineteen days at sea. What followed the disembarkation comes to us thanks to the letter that Albert Martin wrote on 10th March 1889 to a lady friend in Southampton, which was published some weeks later in the local newspaper, the Southampton Observer and Hampshire News.

Albert's account is one of the most vivid and unsparing descriptions of the immigrant experience in Argentina. The so-called Immigrants' Hotel, in the port of Buenos Aires, was "the most filthy, miserable place it has ever been my lot to live in". Upon their arrival, the premises were crammed with four thousand Italians who had landed in the previous two days. "There was no provision made for us, and no accommodation of any sort. They managed to get us some food about six in the evening, and that is about all the attention we received." Hundreds of men, women, and children spent the night in the open air, on the pavement of the courtyard or the tables of the dining shed. "Everybody was hungry, wretched, but fortunately not cold."

The following day, upon occupying the vacant berths left by the departing Italians, they encountered "rats, mice, bugs, fleas, and those other most unmentionable abominations with grey backs, and a wonderful liking for human bodies". On the fifth day, everyone was turned out of the hotel, whether they had anywhere to go or not.

Despite the chaos, Albert quickly found work in a large carpenter's workshop with modern machinery, and his wage of three dollars a day (about seven shillings and sixpence at the exchange rate of the time) was among the best an English tradesman could hope for. Yet the real ordeal was finding lodgings for a family. After two days of fruitless searching, he came upon "two little rooms, a small charcoal stove cooking-place, and a back yard about eight feet by eight feet", for which he paid thirty-four dollars a month, in advance, and without a single shelf, cupboard, or nail upon which to hang his hat.

His brother Reuben, meanwhile, had obtained a post as foreman bricklayer on the construction of a new railway in Córdoba, about a thousand miles from the capital, thanks to the recommendation of Viscount de Bondy, the French ambassador. One of Reuben's daughters went to live with the diplomat's family, and his son Charlie, aged seventeen, remained in Buenos Aires, working and living with his uncle Albert.

Albert's letter is also a settling of accounts with the official propaganda that had driven them to emigrate: "The papers on which most of us founded our hopes, at Southampton and other places, and the plausible tales told us, are nothing but a tissue of falsehoods, and a mean, contemptible, and a cruel fraud, as hundreds of these poor people (both English and Irish) have found to their cost."

And yet his practical spirit prevails at the end: "With perseverance, and a determination to overcome obstacles, I really think that the fortune I am to return to Southampton to find, though still in the far distant future, is not altogether unattainable."

Until now, Albert Martin's letter was merely an anonymous testimony, a tale of despair without a face. But the combination of the SS Dresden passenger list with the Argentine National Census of 1895 has allowed us to identify the family and to reconstruct their daily life in the country.

The Argentine census shows the Martins scattered across Cuartel 04, the rural population of the district of Morón, to the west of Greater Buenos Aires. Albert, his name Hispanicised as "Alberto", is listed as single—a likely census error, given that he was working away from home—and worked as a carpenter. His wife Eliza, aged forty, and their youngest daughter Eliza Rose, aged just nine, were employed as cooks in the home of an English family, the Bournes.

The head of that household was Arthur Mason Bourne, an English mining engineer who had arrived in Argentina around 1887 and who, in 1895, would publish an adventure novel entitled A Mystery of the Cordillera: A Tale of Adventure in the Andes. Working alongside the Bournes was Mary Fitzpatrick, a young Irishwoman of twenty-three who had travelled on the same voyage of the Dresden as the Martins. Her presence confirms the existence of a dense network of British and Irish immigrants who supported one another in the Morón area.

Albert's eldest son, Frederick, aged fifteen, worked as a labourer on the estate of the Balfour family, in the same rural area of Morón. The Balfours—Nelly, aged twenty-six, and her young children Frank and Dolly—were a family of Scottish origin who owned land in what would become the heart of the prestigious Hurlingham Club, founded in 1888 on the initiative of John Ravenscroft and supported by families such as the Robsons, the Campbells, and the Drysdales.

The dispersal of the Martin family—Albert working as a carpenter on rural building projects, Eliza and little Eliza Rose as cooks, and Frederick as a labourer on an estate—reveals a survival strategy typical of immigrants: every member, even the children, contributed whatever they could to keep the household afloat.

Despite having managed to integrate themselves into the British community of Morón, the Argentine adventure of the Martins did not prosper. Without knowing the exact date or how they obtained the means or managed the journey home, I did find in the United Kingdom census records that by 1901, Albert, Eliza, and their daughters were already back in England.

The census of that year places them in Shirley, Hampshire, the very village where Eliza Jane had been born. If I close my eyes, I can imagine her father giving them a helping hand and welcoming them back. I picture an immense emotional blow, given that what they had envisioned in Buenos Aires had not worked out. Lost years. Frustration. Sorrow. Returning with their heads hung low. That is only my imagining.

Albert, now fifty, had resumed his trade of Carpenter & Joiner. His daughter Eliza Rose, fifteen, was working as a dressmaker's apprentice. Little Jessie, who in 1889 had been five years old, now appears as Elsie L. Martin, aged seventeen. The elder children, Frederick and Edith, are not listed in the household: they had probably already become independent or were working as servants in other homes.

Also living in the house was a widow of eighty-two, Sarah Ballard, as a boarder, which suggests the Martins were renting out a room to earn extra income.

Might Sarah have been the lady who received Albert's letter?

Reuben, the elder brother, also returned to England. The 1911 census shows him at sixty-four in Milton, Hampshire, together with his wife Sarah Ann, to whom he had been married for forty-four years. His occupation was given as Builder, and they lived alone, a sign that their children had already set up homes of their own. The American adventure was definitively behind them.

One of the more curious findings of this investigation was the existence of two contradictory records for Albert Martin in the Argentine immigration database. In one, he appears as Albert Martin, aged thirty-nine, married, carpenter, embarked at Southampton. In the other, he appears as Albert Martin, aged twenty-six, single, labourer, embarked at Queenstown.

This duplication, far from casting doubt, confirms the administrative error we suspected. The SS Dresden had sailed from Southampton on 25th January and made a stop at Queenstown, Ireland, the following day to collect hundreds of Irish passengers. Upon disembarkation in Buenos Aires, Argentine officials often recorded the last European port of call rather than the passenger's actual port of origin. The first record, the one indicating Southampton and carpenter, is the correct one. The second is a bureaucratic error, likely committed when processing a group of passengers en masse.

This administrative detail, which might otherwise have gone unnoticed, serves as further proof of the reliability of the investigation as a whole and of the identification of Albert Martin as the author of the letter.

The story of the Martin brothers is a microcosm of the great European migratory epic to Argentina in the nineteenth century. Albert and Reuben represent those thousands of British tradesmen who, lured by promises of prosperity, left behind a modest but stable life to seek their fortune on the pampas.

Unlike many others, the Martins had the opportunity to return, and they did not let it slip away. By 1901, Albert was back in Hampshire, taking up his carpenter's trade once more and watching his daughter begin her apprenticeship as a dressmaker. Reuben, the prosperous master bricklayer who had once employed nine men and four boys before his departure, also returned and continued to work as a builder well into his old age.

Their story is a reminder that emigration was not always a one-way journey with no return. For many, the "American dream" turned into a nightmare of overcrowding, low wages, and disease. And for others, like the Martins, the solution was to pack their bags and go back home, bearing with them the scars of an adventure that, despite everything, left an indelible mark upon their family history.

Albert Martin's letter, rescued from the pages of the Southampton Observer, still resonates today, more than a century later, as a living testimony of that experience. And thanks to the cross-referencing of censuses, immigration records, and newspapers of the period, I have been able to imagine a face and to weave theories and thoughts about one of the protagonists.

The truth is that this story requires the descendants of the Martins of the Dresden to shed light upon these unknowns. While these matters fall within the private sphere of the family, being able to understand the reality of those days through letters containing first-hand accounts of impressions, thoughts, sorrows, and so forth, makes it possible to construct history from the authority of the testimony of the ship's own descendants.

Departure from Southampton

Southampton Departure | Partida desde Southampton

ENGLISH VERSION

When the SS Dresden sailed from Southampton in January 1889, it did so quietly, without the drama that would later surround its arrival in Buenos Aires. Yet this moment marked the true beginning of one of the most complex and misunderstood migration stories of the late nineteenth century.

Southampton was not merely a port of call. It was a recruitment point, a place of selection, and a symbolic threshold between old lives and uncertain futures. From here embarked dozens of families—English and Irish alike—many drawn from the surrounding districts of Hampshire. They were tradespeople, labourers, laundresses, domestic servants, men and women accustomed to work rather than speculation. For some, like Charles and Charlotte Ware, Southampton was home; for others, it was the last familiar ground before crossing the Atlantic.

The departure was carefully staged. Contemporary newspapers describe the presence of Argentine consular officials, immigration commissioners, and representatives of the Norddeutscher Lloyd line. Emigrants were addressed on deck, reassured that passage costs would be advanced by the Argentine government and repaid later through structured instalments. Employment, housing, and food were promised upon arrival. In these early accounts, the scheme appeared orderly, generous, and benevolent—an example of modern, state-supported migration.

From Southampton, the Dresden proceeded to Queenstown (Cobh), where the largest contingent boarded: more than a thousand emigrants from Limerick, Clare, Dublin, and the Irish Midlands. Together, these groups formed one of the largest single assisted-emigration movements ever undertaken to Argentina.

What followed is well known: overcrowding in Buenos Aires, improvised shelters, illness, death, and the ill-fated attempt to relocate many families to the agricultural colony of Napostá. But focusing solely on the collapse risks obscuring something essential. The people who boarded the Dresden were not passive victims or “undesirable emigrants,” as later narratives would suggest. They were families making rational decisions in a world marked by economic pressure, land insecurity, and limited opportunity.

Some returned. Some re-emigrated. Others dispersed across Argentina, Britain, Canada, and the United States. The Southampton connection reminds us that the Dresden was not an endpoint, but a node—one moment within longer trajectories of movement, adaptation, and survival.

To begin the story at Southampton is to restore dignity to its protagonists. It allows us to see the Dresden not only as a failed migration experiment, but as the starting point of many lives that continued, transformed, and endured well beyond the shadow of that single voyage.

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VERSIÓN EN ESPAÑOL

En la noche del 23 de enero de 1889, el vapor SS Dresden zarpó del puerto de Southampton rumbo a Buenos Aires. Era un barco nuevo, imponente, recientemente construido en los astilleros de Govan, y navegaba bajo el mando del capitán H. Bruns como parte de la flota de la Norddeutscher Lloyd. A bordo viajaba un primer contingente de 245 emigrantes, en su mayoría familias del sur de Inglaterra, seleccionadas dentro del nuevo programa de emigración asistida del Gobierno argentino.

La escena del embarque fue solemne y cuidadosamente organizada. Funcionarios consulares, representantes diplomáticos y el propio comisionado jefe de emigración europea, Samuel Navarro, estuvieron presentes. Antes de la partida, los emigrantes fueron reunidos en cubierta y se les explicó el funcionamiento del sistema de pasajes adelantados: el Estado argentino financiaba el viaje, que luego sería devuelto mediante cuotas firmadas en Buenos Aires por los jefes de familia. Todo parecía indicar que se trataba de un proyecto serio, planificado y respaldado al más alto nivel.

Desde Southampton, el Dresden se dirigió a Queenstown (actual Cobh), donde embarcaría el grueso del pasaje irlandés. Allí subirían entre 1.300 y 1.500 personas provenientes principalmente de Limerick, Clare y Dublín. La prensa de la época describió las disposiciones como “excelentes”, destacó la buena provisión de alimentos y subrayó que prácticamente no se registraron quejas durante el embarque. Incluso se relatan aplausos y agradecimientos dirigidos a los representantes argentinos al momento de la partida.

Sin embargo, otras crónicas contemporáneas —especialmente desde ciudades inglesas como Portsmouth— ofrecen una imagen menos optimista. Relatan familias empujadas por la falta de trabajo, hombres que abandonaban oficios duros pero estables, padres que vendían la ropa de sus hijos para poder pagar un depósito mínimo. Para muchos, la emigración no era tanto una oportunidad como una huida desesperada: “no puede ser peor que aquí”, decía uno de ellos antes de partir.

La partida del Dresden desde Southampton marca así el inicio de una historia compleja. Bajo una apariencia de orden, optimismo y promesas de prosperidad agrícola, comenzaba un viaje que pronto pondría en evidencia la distancia entre el discurso oficial y la experiencia real de los inmigrantes. 

Este fue el primer acto de una trama mayor, en la que expectativas, políticas públicas y vidas concretas quedarían profundamente entrelazadas.

The Southampton Connection – The SS Dresden and a Forgotten Journey (1889)

In January 1889, the steamship SS Dresden left Southampton carrying 250 of emigrants bound for Argentina. Among them were families from Hampshire, whose stories are now slowly being reconstructed through newspapers, passenger lists, and private letters.

Recent research has brought to light a remarkable letter published in 1889, written by C. & C. Ware, former residents of Southampton, addressed to John Clarke of Woodmill Laundry, Portswood. Writing from Temperley, Buenos Aires Province, they describe starting a laundry business shortly after arrival, their first customers, the difficulty of roads and transport, and the networks of local support that helped them settle.

photo credit: Colin Lee | Southampton Heritage Photo

LIFE IN THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC

WHAT HAMPSHIRE IMMIGRANTS THINK OF IT

The Hampshire Independent, July 27th 1889 (*)

We have been favoured with letters received from former residents of Southampton by friends in the “old country,” from which we call some interesting particulars as to the experiences of some who have started a new career in the Argentine Republic.

One of the letters, from “C. and C. Ware,” addressed to Mr. John Clarke, Woodmill Laundry, Portswood, and dated from Temperley, F.C.S., Buenos Ayres, says:

“We started our laundry this week, and got through satisfactorily, for all we had to manage without the copper, for a native built it, and didn’t he take his time about it! He commenced Monday morning and finished on Wednesday afternoon, but he made a good job of it.

All the young people round are so interested in it; they have never seen such a thing before, nor a lot of the grown people either.

We are getting nicely settled now. We had a start last week. Mr. B——— sent his coachman round with C——— with his trap to pick up the linen, and again yesterday to deliver it, and the people were so pleased with it; all of them have never seen such ironing as mine.

Mr. B——— bought a light cart for us on Friday, and he has a horse and a set of harnesses for us of his own. You cannot do much out here without a horse and cart, for the roads are awful. Directly there is any rain they are all mud. You put your foot down in a place where you think it is nice, and in you go up to your knees in a crack. The poor horses and oxen often get stuck in the bad places. Some roads cannot be used in wet weather.

All the ladies round are very much interested in us; it is a good thing they found some in the Dresden that would try to get on, for they are almost TIRED OF TRYING TO HELP THE IRISH, for so many were fit for nothing but to drink and smoke and beg for money. I don’t think any of us would have been in the Emigrant’s House so long if it had not been for them, for directly a lady or gentleman showed themselves we got very nearly knocked down if we were near enough to speak to anyone.

I am glad to say it is all over and the place begins to feel more homely, especially now I am doing the work in my own way. We are all ever so much better since we came to Temperley.

The bread is not staying enough; besides, it is eight cents for a small loaf, and they bake them so. I wish very often that I had brought a sitting or two of eggs with me. You can set the hens all the year round here. A lady that I work for came to see me last Sunday, and she advised me to KEEP POULTRY, for the people have such trouble to get eggs. They were 40 cents the half-dozen a little while ago, and I expect they are more now that the winter is on.

I think it a very good start indeed, and we are very pleased with it ourselves. It does not cost us anything for firing, and it will not for the horse’s food, as they turn them out when not working. There is such abundance of grass, and we have a nice field of clover to put our horse in.”

The writer was found in the SS Dresden passenger list as: Charles and Charlotte (C & C Ware) as fathers and Annie, Charles and Alfred as their kids.

This letter is especially important because it:

• Confirms the presence of Southampton emigrants from the Dresden in early Temperley

• Shows how skilled trades allowed families to rebuild quickly

• Describes daily life, food prices, roads, poultry keeping, and relations among immigrants

• Offers a rare, unfiltered voice of emigrants only weeks after leaving England

At the same time that the story of the SS Dresden has long been told as one of failure — collapse, broken promises, hunger, and displacement — individual family trajectories invite us to rethink what this episode actually meant, both then and afterwards.

A particularly revealing case is that of Charles and Charlotte Ware, who travelled from Southampton aboard the Dresden with their children. Far from being migrants without skills or support networks, Charles already appeared in the 1881 British census as a laundryman in South Stoneham, Hampshire. Charlotte, née Clarke, came from a family closely connected to the laundry trade in the Portswood area. This combination of transferable skills and family networks helps explain not only the letter written from Temperley, Buenos Aires, describing the opening of their own laundry business, but also a longer and more complex migratory trajectory.

After their time in Argentina, the Ware family returned to England and resumed their trade in the Southampton area, as confirmed by later census records and numerous newspaper advertisements linked to Woodmill Laundry. Even more suggestive is the appearance of their son Martin Alfred Ware, recorded as having been born in Canada — strongly indicating that the child listed as “Alfred” on the Dresden passenger list is the same individual, and that the family had already experimented with migration to North America either before or after their Argentine experience.

This case highlights a crucial point: prosperity did not always take the form of immediate success within an agricultural colony. Instead, it often emerged through mobility, adaptability, and the ability to transfer skills across borders. For families like the Wares, the Dresden was not the end of the story, but one chapter within a much broader transnational life history.

Revisiting the Dresden through these personal narratives allows us to move beyond a monolithic interpretation of failure. It reveals lives shaped by repeated attempts, returns, and reinvention — trajectories in which even difficult experiences became part of longer processes of survival, learning, and, ultimately, continuity.

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Newspaper reports from Britain, Ireland, New Zealand, and Argentina also show how closely this migration was followed abroad, especially after the failure of the Napostá colony, where many Dresden passengers were initially sent. While some returned to Europe, others — like the Wares — re-emigrated internally, finding work and stability near Buenos Aires.

We are currently cross-referencing:

• SS Dresden passenger lists

• Southampton and Hampshire census records

• British Newspaper Archive reports

• FamilySearch and Ancestry records

If you have family letters, photographs, shipping, census, or parish records and/or stories passed down about relatives who went to Argentina — especially from Southampton / Hampshire between 1888–1895 — we would love to hear from you.

CONTACT US

This is an open, ongoing research project, and the Southampton connection is proving to be a vital piece of a much larger Atlantic story.

* (Content provided by THE BRITISH LIBRARY BOARD. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED)

Bolster Family

Dear Juan Pablo,

I only recently discovered that my grandfather and his parents, brothers, and sisters were part of the "Dresden Affair".They travelled from Ireland with eight children, ranging in ages from 14 to 2 years old.

Here are their names from the passenger list at the Immigrant Ships Transcribers Guild (http://immigrantships.net/irish_arg/irish_arg1889a.html)

788 Bolster George 38 m carpenter l 16 [my great-grandfather]
789 Bolster Mary 39 m dressmaker l 16 [my great-grandmother]
790 Bolster Elizabeth 14 s misstress l 16
791 Bolster Richard 13 s l 16
792 Bolster William 11 s l 16
793 Bolster George 9 s l 16
794 Bolster Annie 7 s l 16
795 Bolster Thomas 5 s 16
796 Bolster Robert 4 s 16
797 Bolster Joseph 2 s 16 [my grandfather]

Interestingly, they came from a different social background to most of the passengers on the Dresden.

Originally, they were both from the Protestant land-owning class. They married without their families' permission and against their wishes, and as a result were "cut off" and had to adapt to working in trade to make a living and provide for their (large) family.

From what I can see, there were several other members of the Bolster family living around Buenos Aires before the Dresden arrived. Certainly they come from the same parish in County Cork in Ireland, and were members of the British/Irish Protestant community in Buenos Aires. So perhaps my ancestors had been in contact with their emigrant relations and found them more liberal and less intolerant than their own families at home? Or perhaps they simply heard the wonderful tales that were being broadcast by the agents of the 'Dresden Affair', and fell victim to the dream of a better life, like so many of their compatriots.

However, I suspect they may have gone to Napostá. I base this on one thing - as a small child, my mother's Aunt Annie told her stories about how they had trekked in wagons across a long distance through open prairies and wilderness. It must have been a long journey, as my aunt remembered how they had animals with them that were killed for food on the journey, and also that my great-grandmother made soap and candles with the fat from these animals (and suffered chemical burns on her hands from the lye used in the process - my mother's aunt told the story that my great-grandmother had been born a 'lady' so her hands were white and spotless before going to Argentina, but after the chemical burns she always wore gloves when in public). Unfortunately, my mother didn't ask more questions (she was only a child and didn't realise it might be important, and of course everybody who knew the facts is now dead).

Anyway, wherever they went in Argentina, it wasn't a success, and in 1891 they sailed on the Helvius and returned to Ireland. (Again, according to my mother's aunt) they had a child in Argentina, but he/she didn't survive. It must have been a very emotional time for them to decided to return.

I have nothing linking them to Argentina other than the passenger lists and the stories my mother heard as a child. I only discovered the whole Dresden story through your website and SILAS. I wish I could find out more, and intend to do more research to see if I can discover more about what they did while they were there, and if they did indeed form part of the ill-fated expedition to Napostá.

The irony is that I took my son to Buenos Aires only a couple of years ago, and at that time we knew nothing about our family connection via the Dresden. We shall have to return before too long!

Anyway, I thought I would get in touch, and add another story to your collection. If you ever find more records pointing to Napostá and other Irish settlement, I will read about it with great interest!


Kind regards
Hugh (Bolster) Grant


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Whitepages in Argetina says that there are only 3 Bolster living in Buenos Aires city:

- Bolster Eduardo A - Monserrat, Ciudad de Buenos Aires
- Bolster Haydee M De - Flores, Ciudad de Buenos Aires
- Bolster Yolanda B  - Flores, Ciudad de Buenos Aires

Lista de Inmigrantes / Immigrant's List

Pasajeros de tercera clase en la cubierta de un barco de la NDL
Theird class passengers on board a NDL ship.

Foto: Gentileza Norddeutscher Lloyd Archives

A continuación encontrarán el link a la lista de pasajeros con toda la información. Poco a poco vamos actualizando datos. Actualmente estamos trabajando el puerto de origen de cada uno de los pasajeros. De ésta manera podrás ir viendo quiénes llegaron desde Queenstown (actual Cobh, Irlanda) y quiénes llegaron desde Southampton (Inglaterra). En esta planilla podrás utilizar las opciones de filtro para buscar apellidos específicos. Acceda a la lista de inmigrantes haciendo click aquí. Saludos cordiales,

Following you will find the link to the passenger list with all the information. Little by little we are updating the list with new details. Now we are working in the Original port of departure of each passenger. So you will be able to see whom they came from Queenstown (now Cobh, Ireland) and whom came from Southampton (England). In this spreadsheet you will be able to filtre specific names and surnames you are looking. Get the immigrant list by clicking here. Kind regards,


JP

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Reconocimientos: Gracias a SILAS y a Michael Geraghty, quienes generosamente nos brindaron la lista de pasajeros del SS Dresden, trascripta originalmente por el Centro de Estudios Migratorios Latinoamericanos (CEMLA). | Acknowledgements: Thanks SILAS and Michael Geraghty, who generously submitted the passenger list of the SS Dresden, originaly transcribed by Centro de Estudios Migratorios Latinoamericanos (CEMLA).

Stephens Family

Me contactó Stella Zuccarelli. Ella es descendiente de los Stephens que vinieron en el SS Dresden. Su bisabuela fue Mary Anne Stephens, hija de Robert y Rose. Mary Anne tenía 2 años cuando llegó a Buenos Aires en Febrero de 1889.

Stella me comenta que su padre solía contarle cómo era la vida por parte de su mamá y su familia irlandesa. Nunca le contaron el por qué habían venido para Argentina, pero sí que habían parte de la familia que se había quedado en Irlanda.

Los Stephens que vinieron en el barco fueron Robert (31) y Rose (23), los padres y John (14), Mary Anne (2) y Margaret (3 meses), los hijos. Junto a la familia vino la madrina de la pequeña Mary Anne, Mary Bennett (24) (figura en el Certificado de Bautismo).

Stella se decidió por investigar a su familia una vez que su padre falleció. Ella se encontró con la partida de nacimiento de su bisabuela Mary Anne junto con un puñado de historias que recordaba y fotos viejas de la familia.

Cuenta Stella "respecto a Mary Anne creo que el recuerdo de ella me trajo hasta aquí. Siempre se dedicó a la costura en casonas de Hurlinghan. Los Stephens eran de familia humilde. Solo su madrina Bennett adquirió otro estándar de vida. Siempre contaban de una artista hermana de ella en Irlanda. Esto es toda la información que tengo".

Stella está tratando de encontrar familiares tanto en Buenos Aires como en Irlanda que le puedan contar más qué fue de su familia y además sobre Mary Bennett.

Y finalmente agrega que "No quiero la ciudadanía ni nada por el estilo. Solo quiero saber de donde vienen mis raíces. De Italia solo tengo el apellido y el nombre. Pero las costumbres no se pueden evitar."

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Stella Zuccarelli has contacted me. She is descendant from the Stephens who came on board the SS Dresden. Her great-grandmother was Mary Anne Stephens, daughter of Robert and Rose. Mary Anne was 2 years old when she arrived to Buenos Aires in February 1889.

Stella told me that her father used to tell her how was his mother’s life about and of the rest of the Irish family. Nobody ever told her why the Stephens came to Argentina, but what they did to tell her was that some relatives had remained in Ireland.

The Stephens who came on the ship were Robert (31) and Rose (23), the parents, and John (14), Mary Anne (2) and Margaret (3 months), the children. Along with them, it came the Mary Anne's godmother, Mary Bennett (24) (contained in the Baptism certificate).

Stella decided to investigate his family after his father died. She found the baptismal certificate of her great-grandmother, Mary Anne, along with a handful of stories that she remember and some old family pictures.

Stella says "about Mary Anne I think that her remembrance brought me up to here. She was devoted to sewing in Hurlingham’s mansions. The Stephens were a humble family. Only her Godmother, Mary Bennett, got another standard of living. It was always said that Mary Bennett had an artist sister in Ireland. This is all the information I have."

Stella is trying to find relatives both in Buenos Aires and in Ireland that could tell her more about what was about her family and also about Mary Bennett’s life.

She finally adds that "I do not want the citizenship or anything like that I just want to know about my roots. From Italy I have only my name and surname. But habits ones cannot avoid."

Stella Zuccarelli

Mary Anne's Baptismal Certificate
Parish of St. John the Baptist - Blackrock Co. Dublin

Mary Anne Stephens

Mary Bennett

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Passenger List

Apellido	Nombre	Sexo	Ciudadania	Fecha de Partida	Puerto de Partida	Clase	Página de Registro	Edad
Stephens	Margaret	f	English	15/02/1889	Queenstown	3	19	905
Stephens	Robert	m	English	15/02/1889	Queenstown	3	19	31
Stephens	Rose	f	English	15/02/1889	Queenstown	3	19	23
Stephens	John	m	English	15/02/1889	Queenstown	3	19	14
Stephens	Mary	f	English	15/02/1889	Queenstown	3	19	2