The Dunfanaghy Workhouse

Dunfanaghy is a small town on the north-west coast of Ireland. To me it seemed to combine all the best elements of the world so far – mountains like Switzerland, moors like Yorkshire, and a quiet coastal fishing village which reminded me of Gerroa, a town on the coast south of Sydney, where I spent summer holidays with my family when I was small.

The Dunfanaghy Workhouse was the reason for my visit here. Built in 1842, a couple of the original buildings still remain and have been converted into an exhibition which tells the story of the workhouse’s construction and original use.

Workhouses have been built across Britain and Ireland from the 1600s, places where those unable to support themselves found work, food and a roof over their heads. They must have been desperately miserable places, as they were deliberately designed to give the poor what they needed and not an iota more – and that goes for their morale just as much as their material needs. Indeed, there appeared to be an emphasis on ensuring workhouses were dreary places, so that only the most desperate would seek refuge there, and leave as soon as they were able.

At Dunfanaghy, the workhouse consisted of separate buildings and yards for men, women, boys and girls (families were split up in the workhouse, but parents were able to see their children; however they weren’t able to leave except as a unit, making it impossible for, say, the man of the house to leave his family in comparative safety while he sought work). There was also a fever hospital, infirmary and a main building housing dormitories, day rooms, a workshop and school room.

Model of Dunfanaghy Workhouse in its heyday

Children were expected to spend 3 hours a day in the workhouse school, while adults spent most of their time working – the women undertaking all the domestic chores of the workhouse and making clothes and bedding, while the men typically had a choice between breaking stones for road construction or oakum picking (separating the fibres of old ropes for use as caulking on ships).

In 1845, the daily rations for adults and children over 13 comprised:

• 170g oatmeal and 378ml buttermilk for breakfast
• 1.3kg potatoes and 378ml buttermilk for dinner
• 140g oatmeal and 378 ml buttermilk for supper

Hardly kingly fare, but I imagine it would have seemed like manna from heaven if your only alternative was literally starving in the streets, which in 1845, at the start of the Great Famine, was the case for many. The 5 paupers resident at the start of that year grew to 600 over the next two years, with the workhouse having to be extended to accommodate those desperate enough to seek refuge within its walls as the famine tightened its grip.