 An Gorta Mór Garden, Carndonagh, Co. Donegal Inishowen Workhouse Carndonagh, Co. Donegal, Ireland Have you ever stopped to imagine what life might have looked like in Inishowen a century or two ago? Picture a windswept peninsula in Ireland’s northwest, where rocky soil and tough winters made daily survival an unrelenting task. Now imagine trying to raise a family there in the 1800s, when failed crops, poor health, and economic hardship could push a household over the edge in a matter of weeks. When things fell apart, where could people turn? For many, the answer - grim though it was - came in the form of the local workhouse. In Carndonagh, at the heart of the Inishowen Peninsula, one such institution opened its doors in 1843. Known as the Inishowen Workhouse, it was designed to be a last refuge for those with nowhere else to go.  A Donegal "Sod House" of the 19th century The Poor Law Union and Its Role The Inishowen Poor Law Union was officially formed in 1840 to cover the area of the Inishowen Peninsula with a population of 43,000. Its purpose was to provide some basic relief to the destitute - people who were too old, too ill, or otherwise unable to support themselves. It also extended support to orphaned children and families who could no longer make ends meet. The system was overseen by a locally elected group called the Board of Guardians. Their job was to manage the day-to-day operations of the Union, including admissions, provisions, and discipline within the workhouse. While their aim was to offer support, the underlying logic of the system was deterrence: the help on offer was not meant to be attractive. The workhouse was designed to be stark, even unpleasant, to discourage people from relying on public assistance unless they absolutely had to.  Carndonagh Workhouse - Board of Guardians A Building Meant to Hold the Broken The workhouse in Carndonagh was built to house 600 people from across Inishowen. It served not just the town of Carndonagh, but also smaller communities like Ballyliffin, Buncrana, Clonmany, Culdaff, Malin, Moville, and many others across the peninsula. It was a purpose-built complex, laid out with the cold efficiency of the times: dormitories for men, women, and children; receiving areas for newcomers; an infirmary tucked away at the rear; and separate quarters for the elderly or infirm. Once inside, families were divided - men from women, parents from children. Children under the age of 2 remained with their mothers. Entry came with uniforms, strict schedules, and very little privacy. If you were strong enough to work, you were expected to. If you weren’t, you waited, often in silence.  Teach na mBocht - “The House of the Poor” In Irish, the workhouse was called Teach na mBocht, meaning “House of the Poor.” But the institution’s purpose went beyond simple charity. From its beginnings, the workhouse was part shelter, part deterrent, part correctional facility. Over time, it became a place where all manner of society’s “undesirables” ended up - not just the poor, but also abandoned women, orphans, the elderly without family, and even people considered “disorderly” or “idle.” Those who were able-bodied but refused to work were branded as “sturdy beggars” and could be placed in the workhouse as punishment. By design, the workhouse was never meant to feel like a sanctuary. Its very function relied on being seen as the last resort.
 1890s OSI (Ordnance Survey Ireland) map showing the Union Workhouse in Carndonagh (now the site of Carndonagh Community Hospital) The Famine and the Breaking Point Then came An Gorta Mór - the Great Hunger. Beginning in 1845, the potato crop, the staple of the Irish diet, failed year after year. Hunger and illness swept across the land. Suddenly, the numbers of people needing help overwhelmed the system. Workhouses like Carndonagh were stretched far beyond their limits. Families arrived at the gates skeletal and feverish, having walked miles in search of food and shelter. Many died before they could even be admitted. Others perished within days, consumed by disease and exhaustion.  To try and meet the growing crisis, additional buildings were hastily added. Some houses across the road from the Workhouse building were also rented to accommodate the growing numbers. A fever hospital was constructed to try to manage the rampant spread of illness. But there was little real relief to offer. Beds were full. Food was scarce. The system buckled. Relief Inside and Out Initially, the only form of state welfare available was “indoor relief” - that is, you had to be admitted to the workhouse to receive help. But during the height of the famine, it became clear this wasn’t enough. In 1847, a change in the law allowed for “outdoor relief” for the first time. Now, instead of entering the workhouse, certain people - mainly widows with children, the elderly, and the sick - could receive help while still living at home. Food might be distributed through soup kitchens, or small payments made to keep people afloat.
But even this came with strings attached. A clause known as the Gregory Clause disqualified anyone who owned more than a quarter-acre of land from receiving help. Many poor families had to give up the last bit of land they held simply to qualify. Others still were forced to enter the workhouse regardless. If you managed to stay in the workhouse for two years, you could apply for assisted emigration - a kind of one-way ticket out of poverty, often to places like Canada or Australia. But the heartbreak of leaving behind home and kin made this a painful option.  Cottages which once housed large families lay silent on the hillside as their owners succumbed to the Great Hunger, disease or emigration A System That Faded, But Left a Mark The workhouse system remained part of Irish life until the 1920s, when the newly formed Irish Free State began to dismantle it. Some former workhouses were converted into district hospitals. Others were abandoned or demolished. In the case of the Inishowen Workhouse in Carndonagh, the original buildings stood until 1958. Today, the site is occupied by Carndonagh District Hospital. Very little remains of the old structure. But the stories live on.  Carndonagh Community Hospital, Co. Donegal The Workhouse and Ancestral Research For many families, especially those with roots in Donegal or the broader northwest, the shadow of the workhouse is part of their ancestry. The records from Carndonagh - names written in careful ink, columns tracking admissions and discharges, brief notes about illness or death - can still be found in local archives. They are a sobering but powerful reminder of what it meant to be poor in 19th-century Ireland. As you can see from the original extract from the Inishowen Workhouse Admissions Book 1846 (below) there were many people who were reduced to begging. The passing of the Vagrancy (Ireland) Act 1847, was enacted during the Great Famine to address the surge in begging. This law made public begging an offense punishable by imprisonment, reflecting a shift from previous approaches that focused on charitable relief, albeit often limited to "deserving" poor. Another feature which is shown in these records are women literally left "holding the baby". Illegitimate children, born out of wedlock were frowned upon and those women who got pregnant "out of wedlock" where often cast out of their families due to "community shame" and forced to seek assistance in the Workhouse. Unfortunate descriptions were attributed to these children in these times. Interestingly though, the children were not recorded with the same surnames as their mothers. When being admitted to the Workhouse these young women were forced to give up the names of their child's father. This was to allow the authorities to pursue the father for financial support. However, there is no evidence of this being followed up. From a genealogical perspective though, this could assist in tracing the hereto unknown name of a father. DNA analysis could further prove a link to a particular surname.  Copy of extract from 1846 Inishowen Workhouse Register  Transcription from 1846 (see original above) Workhouse Register (during An Gorta Mor). Transcribed by Jennifer McLaughlin-Doherty from original records Why This History Still Matters For people with Irish heritage living in the US, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, or the UK, the workhouse is often part of the untold story. Emigration didn’t always start with a dream of opportunity. Sometimes it began with desperation. For many who crossed the Atlantic or boarded ships to the southern hemisphere, the workhouse had come too close for comfort - or had taken someone they loved.
Understanding places like the Inishowen Workhouse doesn’t just help us see the past more clearly. It also offers a window into the resilience, grit, and quiet dignity of those who endured. In the face of brutal systems and impossible choices, they carried on. Some stayed. Some left. All left traces. So next time you visit one of the towns where these Union Workhouses were built - or look at a family record with the word “workhouse” in the margin - remember this wasn’t just an institution. It was a crossroads. One that shaped countless Irish lives.  Researched and written by Jennifer McLaughlin-Doherty
© October 2025 Photos - Jennifer McLaughlin-Doherty, Carndonagh Heritage, National Library of Ireland, Ordnance Survey Ireland
1 Comment
John Doherty
10/24/2025 04:45:04 pm
I always enjoy your writings on the history of Inishowen. Your style of writing makes it easy to follow. Books such as The last of the name, Harry Percival Swan, and Fr. Jackie Fitzgerald who's books I lost during moving house were always a pleasure to thumb through every now and again. I must make an effort to replace them as my grandchildren would now get the same enjoyment and maybe fire an interest like you did at you grandmother's. Leave a Reply. |
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