{"id":309,"date":"2008-07-23T10:40:57","date_gmt":"2008-07-23T10:40:57","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/54.229.91.100\/libraryandarts\/library\/ehistory\/?p=309"},"modified":"2024-06-17T15:34:26","modified_gmt":"2024-06-17T14:34:26","slug":"the-wrens-of-the-curragh-part-3-1867-original-pamphlet","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/the-wrens-of-the-curragh-part-3-1867-original-pamphlet\/","title":{"rendered":"THE WRENS OF THE CURRAGH – PART 3 – 1867 ORIGINAL PAMPHLET"},"content":{"rendered":"
IV.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
VISITING the bushwomen of the Curragh in the daytime naturally seemed to an incomplete way of ascertaining how they really lived.\u00a0The wren is, of course, a night bird, and ought to be seen at night by any one who thinks it worth while to learn her real characteristics and the part she plays in the economy of the universe.\u00a0Therefore I ventured on a journey to the bush one evening, making myself as safe as a man can be who goes into haunts of recklessness and crime with nothing about him to tempt cupidity, and with a stout stick for the casual purposes of defence. \u00a0I did not suppose I should have any extraordinary adventures, but the Curragh is a wide place, and very lonely, and such of the Queen\u2019s troops as consort with the bushwomen are often a dangerous character, especially when they happen to be drunk.<\/div>\n
It was already dark when I set out from that miserable little town, Kildare, directing my steps first towards a landmark uncomfortably called the \u201cGibbet Rath.\u201d\u00a0Gibbet Rath I made out without much difficulty ; and from that spot made my way across the dark and silent common to the bush village, which, as I have already said, is far in its interior.\u00a0I had marked the path pretty accurately on former visits ; and, after passing many a bush that might have been a wren\u2019s nest, I presently discovered a glimmer of light here and there in the distance, which assured me that I had not gone wrong.\u00a0These lights were the turf fires of the wrens, burning upon their earthen floors in a homelike way, which, at a distance, was pleasant enough.\u00a0But arrived amongst the nests a difficulty did arise.\u00a0Here were several, but how could I distinguish the one at which I could most rely, from previous acquaintance, upon a civil reception ?\u00a0There were no means of distinguishing it at all ; and after wandering between one and another in a vain attempt to make out No. 2 nest, I resolved to take my chance and enter that which was nearest at hand.\u00a0This particular nest, however, needed no addition to its assembled company.\u00a0Peeping in through the hole that is called a doorway, I observed that the bush was tenanted by six wrens, two soldiers, and two little children.\u00a0The women were smoking, the soldiers roasting potatoes, or \u201cspuds,\u201d as they called them, at the fire ; the children, poor little souls ! were huddled amongst the women, awake and lively, and perfectly contented.\u00a0As soon as my presence was known I was invited to enter.\u00a0So I went in, just to light my pipe ; and still the women smoked, and the soldiers roasted potatoes, and the children stared about them with innocent inquiring eyes, and a pretty picture of humanity they made crouched and crowded together in the low-roofed little den.\u00a0But my visit was not to this<\/em> nest ; and therefore, after a few compliments and the circulation of my tobacco pouch, I ventured to ask my way to No. 2 nest.\u00a0One of the women rose to show me the way.\u00a0The others put away their pipes at the same moment, and getting together the various articles of their evening attire, sallied out to dress in \u201cthe open.\u201d\u00a0Their stockings were already outside, hanging upon adjacent bushes.\u00a0These the women gathered, and then proceeded to dress in the light that streamed upon the common from their fire and their one candle.\u00a0Stockings, boots, the Curragh petticoat, the starched cotton gown, and with a little deft arrangement of the hair, there they stood clean and decent enough-to look at.\u00a0The toilette being completed, each took a glance at herself in the looking-glass, and then they went away into the darkness, the soldiers with them, leaving my guide behind.\u00a0She faithfully showed me to No. 2, and then went back to keep watch till her companions returned from one more excursion into the most dismal swamp of vice where they find their daily bread.<\/div>\n
No. 2 nest had also a turf fire burning near the door ; by the light of which I saw, as I approached it, one wretched figure alone.\u00a0Crouched near the glowing turf, with her head resting upon her hands, was a woman whose age I could scarcely guess at, though I think by the masses of black hair that fell forward upon her hands and backward over her bare shoulders that she must have been young.\u00a0She was apparently dozing, and taking no heed of the pranks of the frisky little curly-headed boy whom I have made mention of before ; he was playing on the floor.\u00a0When I announced myself by rapping on the bit of corrugated iron which stood across the bottom of the doorway, the woman started in something like fright ; but she knew me at a second glance, and in I went.\u00a0\u201cPut back the iron, if ye plaze,\u201d said the wren, as I entered ; \u201cthe wind\u2019s blowing this way to-night, bad luck to it.\u201d\u00a0The familiar iron pot was handed to me to sit upon, my stick was delivered over to poor little Billy Carson, my whisky flask and tobacco were laid out for consumption, and I laid myself <\/em>out for as much talk as could be got from the watching wren.\u00a0Billy Carson had not the splendid appearance he wore when I last saw him, in his Sunday frock.\u00a0His clothes were rags, and they were few and foul.\u00a0The face of the poor child was of the colour of the earth he sprawled upon ; but there were his thick curly black locks and his great big eyes, so full of fun and sense, of innocence and spirit, as if he wasn\u2019t a wren\u2019s child at all.\u00a0While I looked at this unfortunate little fellow, wondering what was likely to be the end of him, and what my own end might have been had I begun life as a wren\u2019s little boy, the woman still sat crouched near the fire, with her face hidden on her folded arms, in a very miserable and despairing attitude indeed.\u00a0I asked her whether the boy was hers, by way of starting a conversation ; she bluntly answered me without looking up that \u201cit wasn\u2019t, thank God.\u201d\u00a0I tried again.\u00a0\u201cHave some whisky ; you\u2019re cold.\u201d\u00a0\u201cIndade I am, but it\u2019s not whisky that will warm me this night,\u201d said she.\u00a0But next minute, she jumped up, turned some whisky into a cup, tossed it off with a startling rapid jerk of hand and head, went to the looking glass (an irregular fragment as big as the palm of your hand), and wisped her hair up in a large handsome knot.\u00a0Then the whisky began to operate ; her tongue was loosed.\u00a0She readily answered all the trifling questions I asked of her, meanwhile putting Billy to bed, who had got sleepy.\u00a0I was very curious to see how this would be done when she proposed it to Billy, but there was nothing remarkable in the process to reward expectation.\u00a0The straw was pulled from under the crockery shelf, and Billy was placed upon the heap dressed as he was, with an injunction to shut his eyes.\u00a0He did so, and the operation was complete.<\/div>\n
Of course I wanted to know how my wretched companion in this lonely, windy, comfortless hovel came from being a woman to be turned into a wren.\u00a0The story began with \u201cno father nor mother,\u201d an aunt who kept a whisky-store in Cork, an artilleryman who came to the whisky-store, and saw and seduced the girl.\u00a0By-and-by his regiment was ordered to the Curragh.\u00a0The girl followed him, being then with child.\u00a0\u201cHe blamed me for following him,\u201d said she.\u00a0\u201cHe\u2019d have nothing to do with me.\u00a0He told me to come here and do like other women did.\u00a0And what could I do ?\u00a0My child was born here, in this very place, and glad I was of the shelter, and glad I was when the child died-thank the blessed Mary !\u00a0What could I do with a child ?\u00a0His father was sent away from here, and a good riddance.\u00a0He used me very bad.\u201d\u00a0After a minute\u2019s silence the woman continued, a good deal to my surprise, \u201cI\u2019ll show you the likeness of a betther man, far away !-one that never said a cross word to me-blessed\u2019s the ground he treads upon!\u201d And, fumbling in the pocket of her too scanty and too dingy petticoat, she produced a photographic portrait of a soldier, inclosed in half a dozen greasy letters.\u00a0\u201cHe\u2019s a bandsman, sir, and a handsome man he is, and I believe he likes me too.\u00a0But they have sent him to Malta for six years ; I\u2019ll never see my darlint again.\u201d\u00a0And then this poor wretch, who was half crying as she spoke, told me how she had walked to Dublin to see him just before he sailed, \u201cbecause the poor craythur wanted to see me onst more.\u201d\u00a0The letters she had in her pocket were from him ; they were read and answered by the girl whose penmanship I have already celebrated, and who seems to be the only woman in the whole colony who can either read or write.\u00a0I could not find another, at any rate.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

From this woman, so strangely compounded, I learned, as I sat smoking over the turf fire-and the night was bitterly cold-much that I have already related.\u00a0I also learned the horror the women have of the workhouse ; and how, if they are found straying over the limits allotted to them, they have to appear at Naas to be fined for the offence (a half-crown seems to be the fine commonly inflicted), or to be sent for seven days to gaol.\u00a0There, according to this woman, they get about a pint of \u201cstirabout\u201d for breakfast, at two o\u2019 clock in the afternoon some more stirabout and about a pound of bread, and nothing more till breakfast time next day.\u00a0I cannot but think this a false statement, and yet she spoke of the workhouse as a place still more unlovely.\u00a0However, she had suffered so much privation last winter that she had made up her mind not to stay in the bush another such season.\u00a0\u201cAt the first fall of the snow I\u2019ll go to the workhouse, that I will !\u201d\u00a0she said, in the tone of one who says that in such an event he is determined to cut his throat.\u00a0\u201cWhy, would you belave it, sir, last winter the snow would be up as high as our little house, and we had to cut a path through it to the min, or we\u2019d been ruined intirely.\u201d\u00a0In this way she talked, and I listened, and heard how one of the inhabitants of the place I was in had been seduced at the age of thirteen years and four months by an officer in a rifle regiment-a circumstance of which my companion seemed to think there was some reason to be proud.\u00a0\u201cA rale gentleman he was.\u201d\u00a0In some such spirit one woman declared to me, with a scornful air, \u201cIt wasn\u2019t one man brought me<\/em> here, but manny ! and that\u2019s the truth bedad !\u201d\u00a0I also heard that in winter some of the women knit stockings to sell at the camp market, adding a little money to the common stock that way ; and further, that sometimes an officer took a fancy to the companionship of some particular wren, and smuggled her into his quarters.<\/div>\n
Presently the report of a gun was heard.\u00a0\u201cGun fire !\u201d cried my companion.\u00a0\u201cThey\u2019ll soon be back now, and I hope it\u2019s not drunk they are.\u201d\u00a0I went out to listen.\u00a0All was dead quiet, and nothing was to be seen but the lights in the various bushes, till suddenly a blaze broke out at a distance.\u00a0Some dry furze had been fired by some of the soldiers who were wandering on the common, and in search of whom the picket presently came round, peeping into every bush.\u00a0Presently the sound of distant voices was heard ; it came nearer and nearer, and its shrillness and confusion made it known to me that it was indeed a party of returning wrens-far from sober.\u00a0They were, in fact, mad drunk ; and the sound of their voices as they came on through the dense darkness, screaming obscene songs, broken by bursts of horrible laughter, with now and than a rattling volley of oaths which told that fighting was going on, was staggering.\u00a0I confess I now felt uncomfortable.\u00a0I had only seen the wren sober, or getting sober ; what she might be in that<\/em> raging state of drunkenness I had yet to find out ; and the discovery threatened to be very unpleasant.\u00a0The noise came nearer, and was more shocking because you could disentangle the voices and track each through its own course of swearing, or of obscene singing and shouting, or of dreadful threats which dealt in detail with every part of the human frame.\u00a0\u201cIs this your lot ?\u201d I asked my companion, with some apprehension, as at length the shameful crew burst out of the darkness. \u201cSome ov \u2019em, I think.\u201d\u00a0But no, they passed on ; such a spectacle as made me tremble.\u00a0I felt like a man respited when the last woman went staggering by.\u00a0Again voices were heard, this time proceeding from the women belonging to the bush where I was spending so uncomfortable an evening.\u00a0Five in all, two tipsy and three comparatively sober, they soon presented themselves at the door.\u00a0One of them was Billy\u2019s mother.\u00a0At the sound of her voice the child woke up and cried for her.\u00a0She was the most forbidding-looking creature in the whole place ; but she hastened to divest herself, outside, of her crinoline and the rest of her walking attire (nearly all she had on), and came in and nursed the boy very tenderly.\u00a0The other wrens also took off gown and petticoat, and folding them up made seats of them within the nest.\u00a0Then came the important inquiry from the watching wren, \u201cWhat luck have you had ?\u201d-to which the answer was, \u201cMiddling.\u201d\u00a0Without the least scruple they counted up what they had got amongst them-a poor account : it was enough to make a man\u2019s heart bleed to hear the details and to see the actual money.\u00a0In order to continue my observations a little later in a way agreeable to those wretched outcasts, I proposed to \u201cstand supper\u201d-a proposition which was joyfully received, of course.\u00a0Late as it was, away went one of the wrens to get supper, presently returning with a loaf, some bacon, some tea, some sugar, a little milk, and a can of water.\u00a0The women bought all these things in such modest quantities that my treat cost no more (I got my change and I remember the precise sum) than two shillings and eightpence halfpenny.\u00a0\u00a0 The frying-pan was put in requisition, and there seemed some prospect of a \u201cjolly night\u201d for my more sober nest of wrens.\u00a0One of them began to sing, not a pretty song, but presently she stopped to listen to the ravings of a strong-voiced vixen in an adjoining bush.\u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s Kate,\u201d said one, \u201cand she\u2019s got the drink in her,-the devil that she is.\u201d\u00a0I then heard that this was a woman of such ferocity when drunk that the whole colony was in terror of her.\u00a0One of the women near me showed me her fact torn that very right by the virago\u2019s nails, and a finger almost bitten through.\u00a0As long as the voice of the formidable creature was heard, every one was silent in No. 2 nest-silent out of fear that she would presently appear amongst them.\u00a0Her voice ceased ; again a song was commenced ; then the frying-pan began to hiss ; and that sound it was perhaps which brought the dreaded virago down upon us.\u00a0She was heard coming from her own bush, raging as she came.\u00a0\u201cMy God, there she is !\u201d one of the women exclaimed ; \u201cshe\u2019s coming here, and if she sees you she\u2019ll tear every rag from your back !\u201d\u00a0The next moment the fierce creature burst into our bush-a stalwart woman full five feet ten inches high, absolutely mad with drink.\u00a0Her hair was streaming down her back, she had scarcely a rag of clothing on, and the fearful figure made at me with a large jug, intended to be smashed upon my skull.\u00a0I declare her dreadful figure appalled me ; I was so wonder-stricken that I believe she might have knocked me on the head without resistance.\u00a0But, quick as lightning, one of the women got before me, spreading out her petticoat.\u00a0\u201cGet out of it !\u201d she shouted, in terror.\u00a0\u201cRun !\u201d\u00a0And so I did.\u00a0Covered by this friendly and grateful wren I passed out of the nest and made my way homeward in the darkness.\u00a0One of the girls stepped out to show me the way.\u00a0I parted from her a few yards from the nest, and presently \u201clost myself\u201d on the common.\u00a0It was nearly two o\u2019 clock when I got to Kildare from my last visit to that shameful bush village.<\/div>\n
This scene, which I shall never forget, gave me, so to speak, a bellyful.\u00a0As I wandered over the common for two good hours, I saw that dreadful woman in imagination at every turn, and her voice disturbed my sleep when at last I did get to bed.\u00a0I resolved to go no more a-nesting, but to return and write what I have now written, hoping that some good may come of it.\u00a0I suppose it is not possible to allow such things to continue in a Christian country ?<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
PART 3 of the pamphlet on The Wrens of the Curragh to celebrate the 300th ARTICLE<\/u> on <\/em><\/strong>EHISTORY<\/em><\/strong><\/a><\/div>\n
[Apparently the pamphlet (based on the original newspaper article) was written by a reporter of the Pall Mall Gazette, James Greenwood, who visited the Curragh in 1867 – all spellings etc. have been retained – typed and edited by Claire Connelly – re-edited Roy O’Brien]<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

PART 3 of the pamphlet on The Wrens of the Curragh to celebrate the 300th ARTICLE<\/u> on <\/em><\/strong>EHISTORY<\/em><\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":12,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[118,119],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-309","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-people","category-places"],"blocksy_meta":[],"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"author_info":{"display_name":"Kildare Local Studies","author_link":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/author\/localstudies\/"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/309","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/12"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=309"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/309\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=309"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=309"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kildarelibraries.ie\/ehistory\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=309"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}