“Well, for the women of the house, the coming of electricity in the 1950s brought a little ease and comfort. The first thing to go was the paraffin lamp which had to be filled and trimmed every night – a dirty, smelly job. Running water came next and the washing machine with it. This was a wonderful invention and the twin-tub an even better one. The heavy smoothing iron was replaced by the electric iron and the electric kettle meant that you could have a cup of tea in five minutes. The milk was now going to the creamery so churning day came to an end. This was the beginning of emancipation for the women of Ireland.”
[ Here is a 1957 video of the wonderful twin-tub that helped to set women free. Comms Team ]
We have set aside these pages for any other stories that may be of interest to parishioners – stories written by parishioners; stories about parishioners; stories or articles from books or magazines; stories from anywhere at all.
We have only three stories so far. One is about a parishioner, Neddy Murphy, and his life and death around the Fenor church. Another is about an altar boy and his tribulations in the days of the Latin Mass. The last is a story by the Cork writer Frank O’Connor about First Confession.
It would be grand if we could get some stories from the Dunhill end of the parish as most of our stories come from Fenor. So, if you come across a story or would like to write a story that you feel might interest our readers, please let the communications team know about it. Remember, it’s not just people living in the locality who read these stories – it’s people all over the world.
“Most of the babies were born at home long ago. The midwife would come with her black bag. When we were children, we thought she brought the baby in her bag. I had three stillbirths – my first three children. Eddie Murphy’s father was the grave digger. He came the night they were born with a little box that he made. They are buried in the path around the graveyard, I don’t know where. They weren’t baptised so they weren’t allowed to be buried in consecrated ground. Neither my husband nor anybody from the family went with them to be buried. It was considered unlucky. I often wonder will I see them. Please God, I will! The Church tells us that they are in Limbo. People say that they will have to carry a light for all eternity and that they will never see the face of God.”
“Babies were always christened the day after they were born, not like today where they are nearly able to walk to the church before they are baptised. The mother didn’t go to the baptism. The neighbours would come in after the christening to wet the baby’s head, and silver was put into the shawl with the baby. Usually, two shillings or half a crown. Then, about two weeks after the birth, we had to be churched − that was a blessing for the mother. After Mass the priest would perform the ceremony at the altar rails at the Sacred Heart side [of the Church]. You held a lighted candle in your hands and the priest read prayers over you. You wouldn’t be allowed to receive Holy Communion until you were churched. You where supposed do be unclean. Wasn’t that just like men! I think Pope John XXIII did away with that, God be good to him. He was a great man.”
[ Here is an extract from the 2007 International Theological Commission on The Hope of Salvation for Infants Who Die Without Being Baptised.
“It must be clearly acknowledged that the Church does not have sure knowledge about the salvation of unbaptised infants who die. She knows and celebrates the glory of the Holy Innocents, but the destiny of the generality of infants who die without baptism has not been revealed to us, and the church teaches and judges only with regard to what has been revealed. What we do positively know of God, Christ, and the Church gives us grounds to hope for their salvation…” – Comms Team.]
Children
“We all came from big families so we were never lonely. There were flocks of us in every townland. We spent our lives running wild through the fields and being fed in every house. The bread and butter you got in your neighbour’s house was always sweeter than what you got at home. Of course, we had all our own jobs to do – looking after the fowl; going for the cows; collecting kippins for the fire; helping with the housework and looking after the smaller children. Somehow, we never looked on it as work. We did our lessons at the kitchen table at night. My mother asked us our catechism and taught us our prayers but I don’t ever remember anyone helping us with our exercises. I loved school, even though the teachers were cross. We learned reading, grammar, letter-writing and sums, and things we would need ‘if we went to America’.”
“Our master played the fiddle and taught us all the old Irish songs. I loved poetry and reading. The only reading books we had were our school readers, which was a great pity. They were happy times. We all walked to school barefoot in the summertime. Sometimes we went through the fields. Sometimes we got a lift home on a horse cart. The teacher would say as we left the school, ‘No streeling along the road’. Going home was great.”
“The priests gave the young people a very hard time for dancing. They chased us out of house dances and dance halls and during the forty days of Lent there was no dancing allowed at all. We were terrified of them. Everything that was enjoyable was a sin and we never questioned it at all. If a lad saw you home he would be lucky to get a kiss. Then you would have to tell that to the priest in confession. Company keeping was a sin of course and, unless it was the intention to get married, it was strictly forbidden. We had lots of boyfriends but we were very innocent.”
Mass
“Mass went on forever. It was all in Latin on the high altar. The priest had his back to the people. Mass was on Sunday morning and, if you were going to Holy Communion, you had to be fasting from midnight the night before – without even a drink of water. After Mass there would be Benediction. By the time you got home you would be fainting with the hunger. I often remember eating blackberries on the way home from Mass, I’d be so hungry. Once a month you had your sodality or confraternity Sunday. Then you had to sit with your own guild under your own banner. The leader of the guild would sign your name as you arrived to make sure that you were present and received Holy Communion.”
“It was a fright to the world that you couldn’t go to the funeral of a Protestant, even if he was your next door neighbour. You’d have to go the bishop to confession if you did. Wasn’t that dreadful? People are very good Christians now and very compassionate. If you reach out to them they will come to you.”
Rosary
[ Here is a portion of the Litany of the Blessed Virgin. – Comms Team. ]
…
Holy Mary, pray for us.
Holy Mother of God, pray for us.
Holy Virgin of virgins, pray for us.
Mother of Christ, pray for us.
Mother of divine grace, pray for us.
Mother most pure, pray for us.
Mother most chaste, pray for us.
Mother inviolate, pray for us.
Mother undefiled, pray for us.
…
“The rosary was said in every house at night and the trimmings went on forever. My mother ‘gave out’ the rosary, father gave out the second decade, and the three eldest gave out the next three decades. Mother said the litany of the Blessed Virgin without a stop and then prayed for everyone alive and dead who had any connection with the family. Next came prayers for sick neighbours, the animals, and for fine weather. When the last ‘Amen’ was said we were free to get up off our knees. The prayers that I remember are the prayers my mother taught me. I remember well she wore a black apron, always, and I’d sit on her knee. I must have been about three or four at the time, I think.”
Jesus meek and Jesus mild, Look on me a little child
Heart of Jesus, I adore thee.
“After the rosary we would always say”,
I shall die, I do not know where or when or how, But if I die in mortal sin I am lost forever. Sweet Jesus have mercy on me.
“The funny thing is, I still say the prayers I said as a child after the rosary every night.”
The Stations
[ NB. These stations should not to be confused with the Stations of the Cross. – Comms Team.]
“Now the stations are held in the church, but long ago they were held in each townland. They would be held in spring and autumn. When it was our turn for the station the whole house had to be painted, inside and out and whitewashed. The yard was whitewashed and all the doors and gates painted. New oilcloth was put on the kitchen table and a white tablecloth put on the table that was the altar for Mass down in the room. The Mass was at ten o’clock in the morning with confession for all in the parlour before Mass. After Mass the dues were collected and then there would be a big breakfast in the parlour for the priest and the head of each house in the townland (all men). The women had their breakfast in the kitchen, once the men were served. Of course, the house had to be spotless. You couldn’t have people talking.”
[ A confraternity is normally a Roman Catholic organization of lay people created for the purpose of promoting special works of Christian charity or piety, and approved by the Church hierarchy. Confraternity activities are often associated with burial as parishioners sometimes find it difficult to pay for the funeral arrangements. This was particularly so in former times. In this article, Bob Rockett gives us his particular slant on the Confraternity. – Comms Team. ]
“Sunday is Confraternity Sunday”. This was an announcement most likely to be made at the main meal on the previous Thursday or Friday when all the family was likely to be assembled. In most cases it was not entirely welcome, especially by the male members. It involved examination of conscience, trying to sort out the deliberate indiscretions, and making excuses where the prevailing situation created doubt as to the seriousness of the offence. Were the circumstances in your favour to make it a venial or the more serious mortal sin? Not conducive to a carefree weekend.
A further reminder was issued mid-Saturday. How could one forget? You cleaned up Saturday evening making your way to the village to join the other penitents, male and female, in similar frame of mind. Any distraction was welcome to counter the idea of having to bare your soul, only having entertained thoughts of what might be the delight of the aforethought exercise.
Confraternity Sunday in the long summer evenings. The village was busy, lads arriving to the local shop for their cigarettes, razor blades and perhaps hair oil. There would be lads lining up for haircuts. There was a few competent local barbers with the little clippers and there was no charge. Heads and hair were neatly kept.
The church, from the outside, looked calm and peaceful. Perhaps less so inside as penitents took their places at each side of the confessional box, males on the left and females on the right. The old box was not constructed to provide privacy, except for the priest. He was seated in his small cubicle with a small slide on each side which he drew alternately, holding his ear to the grill and listening attentively, issuing the appropriate penance and dispensing absolution.
Having been shrived, you recited your penance and went out the door like a shot. It was notable that confraternity members made an effort to refrain from uttering the usual expletives at least until after Sunday. Sunday morning was a trial, going about the usual routine on an empty stomach, portraying your best devout poise as if you were enjoying it. The church sported the banners denoting the different guilds, i.e., Sacred Heart, St. Joseph. The females on the left side approached the altar first for Holy Communion and then the males on the right. There was always the few hard men who didn’t conform to confraternity discipline. They tended to throw cold water on what they oft called “the holy Joes”.
Their bluff was called back in 1938. The area was subjected to four nights of fierce thunder and lightning. Nothing like it has occurred since. It created fear, especially among hard men, and some were said to have pleaded to be spared until Saturday to make their peace with God. The priest at the time made the observation in his Sunday sermon that a good thunder storm was better than a mission. He had been kept busy hearing confessions the previous evening.
Village life in those times seems to have been more ordered – at least it would seem that way to those of advanced years. Communications and conversation between neighbours is no longer a feature of the 21st Century.
[ The picture on the right shows a typical confraternity banner. It is of Naoṁh Ioseṗ (Saint Joseph). The banners were carried on vertical poles and, when in church, the poles were slotted through the brass rings that can still be seen on the ends of the benches. – Comms Team. ]
This is the name of an article by Mrs. Rita Byrne in the book Fenor 2010 – Growing and Changing. Eight women shared their experiences with Rita who recorded the conversations on an old-fashioned “steam tape cassette” and transcribed them for the book. Isn’t it what we all say we should do when we meet with the older generation and get them talking? But we don’t do it and the memories are lost for ever.
The experiences related by these women are both funny and tragic and may cause you to weep on both accounts. We have taken the liberty of including some extra material (mostly in dark blue type) which, we hope, will provide added interest. You can access the stories from the menu on the left.
[ Here, now, is Rita Byrne’s short introduction to the article: ]
“Mná na hÉireann”
by Rita Byrne
As remembered by the late Mary Long, Nora Crowley, Josie Drohan, Baby (Anna) Hynes, Mary B. and Peig Power, Kathleen Keniry and Josie Gough in taped conversations made in the 1980s. To their memory I dedicate this article. We will never see the likes of them again.
[ Rita ended the article with the following: ]
“It was my privilege during the 1980s and 90s to talk with the senior citizens of the community and to call them my friends. Sadly, they are all now gone to their reward in heaven. While the men told me their marvellous stories of football matches and farming and the spirit world, the ladies talked about their day-to-day lives and the hardships and happy and sad times of their youth.
They were ordinary people with extraordinary faith. By today’s standard their lives were hard and their work load horrendous, but what they had they shared willingly and they thought about others before they thought about themselves. In a society where families of eight, nine, and ten were the norm, there was little time for themselves, yet they were concerned for elderly neighbours, the sick, and the travelling people.
Nádúr, good nature, or being a good neighbour was always on their lips. The strength of women and their strong religious faith helped them to survive. Their belief in the after-life helped them in their understanding of the circle of life. Their relationship with God sustained them. This relationship was a very personal one. God was with them in everything they did and the name of God was never far from their lips.
Edmond Murphy, Fenor, was caretaker of Fenor church from 1910 until his death in 1934. He also served at the first Mass in Fenor church in 1894. His wife Margaret was also caretaker with him until 1960 when Mrs Tom Power took over. Eddie Murphy (Edmond’s son) took over the care of the churchyard at the age of fifteen years on the death of his father.
Jim Phelan of Churchhouse and Richard Hartley of Woodstown were both christened on the same day and were the first baptisms in Fenor church. Michael Hutchinson was the second christening. While the church was being built, Mass was said using the vault (flat tomb) as an altar.
Warts must have been a very common complaint in days gone by because everybody in the parish has a tretment which works. People believed that warts on the hands were caused by washing the hands in water in which eggs were boiled. A fasting spit rubbed on the wart or the froth from the cuckoo’s spit, or water from the forge, all worked a treat. There is a wart well in Drumcannon below Tramore and there was a stone in the orchard of Power’s, Islandtarsnay (the Tailors). This stone had a depression in it where rainwater collected. You just washed the affected part in this water and, appropriately, it was called the wart stone. The dew of the grass before sunrise on May morning removed warts as well as corns, bunions, freckles, and all skin blemishes, and guaranteed eternal beauty. Stranger still are the following cures. If the wart is rubbed with a piece of fat-bacon and the bacon is then buried, the wart disappears as the bacon rots away. A raw potato rubbed on and then thrown away works the same way. A very common cure is the shellakiepookie cure. You get a shellakiepookie (snail), rub the wart with him, stick him on a thorn and, as he withers away, the wart disappeares. Caustic soda and wart plant (spunk) were rubbed on the wart.
There were two people from the parish who had the charm to cure warts. They used a straw from the rick and made the sign of the cross on the wart, then they buried the straw and the wart just disappeared within a few days. If all of these failed, a hair from the horse’s tail was tied tightly around the wart until it withered. Take your pick, they all work if you have faith.
To stop bleeding
The charm to stop bleeding was most peculiar because it worked on animals as well as people and it worked at a distance.
William Kiely from Killfarrasy had the charm. A mare of Bob Phelan’s jumped a gate and burst a vein in her leg when she hit the top rail. The workman ran for William. He had a prayer that he used to say to stop the bleeding. The workman urged him to come quickly but he answered, “I said the prayer, it will be stopped when I get there” – and it was. The charm to stop bleeding was passed from a man to a woman to a man and could not be used unless someone requested it. (I was privileged to be given the prayer to stop bleeding by Tommy Drohan, who got it from his grandmother.) St. Martin’s blood was also used to clear bleeding. On St. Martin’s eve (November 10th) a cock or some domestic animal was killed and the blood was sprinkled on the door-post and also on a cloth. This cloth was kept safely and applied to any bleeding wound.
For every ailment there was a folk-cure – an eelskin for tralach [tráileaċ], or cork under the matress for cramps in the legs, boiling potato-water for hangnail, oatmeal water for freckles, a cobweb or a key down the back of the neck for nosebleed. Many of the old cures are lost and very few of them are used. Nowadays, however, there are still people to whom we turn in times of specific need – the healers and the people with “the cure” .
Children who survived the rigours of childbirth had then to face childhood illnesses – without the medical services and antibiotics that are available to us today. Scalds were treated with the first snow of the year. The snow water was melted and kept. Burns were treated with bread soda or linseed oil, or country butter and egg yolk made into a paste. A badly burned or scalded child was plunged into the churn of buttermilk and, of course, there was always the dog’s lick, which had great curative powers.
Cod-liver oil and Scott’s Emulsion were taken by children to build up their strength and prevent cold and childhood illnesses. Adults took raw eggs beaten up with warm milk and a drop of whiskey, or a glass of mulled stout with sugar was almost as good. Vick was used on the chest and a spoon of honey soothed a chesty cough. For pneumonia, a poultice of candle wax on brown paper was wrapped around the body. People who suffered from backache always carried a small potato in their pocket and Our Lady’s flower was carried in the pocket to prevent stroke. This little blue flower grows commonly in the month of May. Of course, red flannel worn across the back, was especially good for low back pain. This flannel should be washed. Pepper, especially Cayenne pepper, taken fasting, mixed with a drop of water and followed by a big glass of milk or water, was a marvellous cure for arthritis, rheumatism, lumbago or sciatica.
Most of us have spent a sleepless night or two counting the hours until dawn. The cure for insomnia is very simple – onions boiled in milk, sprinkled with pepper, and taken as a bedtime drink. This was also very good for the kidneys. Hives were common in children, probably because of deficiency in the diet, so boiled nettles were eaten in March to clear the blood. Slouchán was boiled in March, too, and given to children for worms. This dose was repeated after eight days. Three drinks of barnacle water in March kept a child free from worms for the year, and “yalla male” (yellow meal) stir-about cleared a child of tape worms.
Whooping Cough
[ “In my mouth, you say?” ]
Many of us remember the horror of whooping cough for which there was no medical cure, but of folk cures there were many – most of them hair-raising. A live frog put into the child’s mouth when fasting should cure the whooping. The usual cure was to ask a man riding a white horse for his cure, which was usually to pass the child over and under the horse three times. Ferrets’ leavings were given to the patient as a good cure. A plate of bread and milk was given to the ferrets and whatever was left was fed to the patients. Paddy Power has an Irish cure which goes like this: “Bhí fear ag marcaíocht go dtí an margadh i nDún Ghearbhán agus ag an droichead in nDún na Mainistreach bhí seanbhean ina suí agus d’iarr sí air., ‘A fhear a chapall bháin, cad é an leigheas ar an triuc?’ D’fhreagair sé í, ‘A Dhún Ghearbhán beirig an “whey” (boiled whey). Sin é an leigheas ar an triuc?'” (Whooping cough was also called pioc or chin-cough).
A stocking filled with warm salt was put around a sore throat and salt and water was gargled. I got a cure for jaundice from an elderly neighbour twenty-five years ago which really works. The blossom of the furze was boiled with vinegar, beer, brown sugar, and saffron. This was taken, about a wineglass per day, for nine days. Another good cure, which is still in use, is the inner bark of the barberry, infused with porter and brown sugar, and taken three times. These cures work on dogs as well as humans.
The common cure for headache and also for throat ailments was the Brat Bríde or the St. Brigid’s ribbon. The ribbon, which was left outside on the eve of St. Brigid’s Day, was blessed by the saint. The ribbon was put around the head or throat of the patient. The brat or ribbon was also put across the cow’s back when calving or if she was sick. On St. Brigid’s eve men also put out their braces or galluses so that the saint would bless them also. This blessing gave the men strength to do their daily work for the whole year. It was believed that thin, skinny children got over measles more easily than fat children and that any ailment that came with measles stayed with the person for their life. Deafness and sore eyes and often blindness or partial blindness resulted from measles, so the patient was kept in darkness to protect the eyes. Sore eyes were treated with cold tea or by twisting a gold wedding ring around the eye nine times, and the thorn of the gooseberry bush was used to let out the puss in a stye. The blessed well of St. Declan was the place to go on pilgrimage for people who feared blindness and many people went on horseback or by pony and trap to Ardmore to wash in the water and do the rounds.
[ Declan founded a seminary in Ardmore circa 416. The Holy Well served as a baptistery to the primitive Christian missionaries. Declan Christianised the area of Decies before St. Patrick came in 431. ]
Leg ulcers, which were a common complaint in the elderly, especially in women, were treated with a bandage of green cabbage or slánlus (or slanns). Skin cancer was treated with pennyleaf or dock leaf and so were nettle stings. Bee stings were rubbed with the blue bag and wasp stings were cured by rubbing a raw onion on the affected area.
The Blacksmith Doctor
Water from the forge had magical cures and was used to cure itch, chilblains, eczema, to remove warts, and to get rid of freckles. The blacksmith could diagnose and cure most of the ailments of animals, especially horses. Tom Power (RIP), who was the local blacksmith and was the seventh generation of blacksmiths of that name, could cure rickets. Rickets caused deformed limbs in children and was common early this century. He made the sign of the cross on the thumbnail of the child with a piece of iron over the anvil. He said a prayer also – perhaps the Ár nAthair.
People who have suffered from shingles tell me that it is a very painful ailment, sore and difficult to cure. There is a charm to cure shingles which works and the shingles clear up within a few days. The person with the charm pricks the finger and makes a circle of blood around the affected area. This is repeated three times. Cahills and Caulfields have the cure for shingles, so the cure is known as Cahill’s blood or Caulfield’s blood. Seventh sons have the cure for ringworms and they are also blessed with the ability to set bones and cure sprains. When a seventh son or, better still, the seventh son of a seventh son was born, a worm was put into its hand and, if the worm curled up and died, the child had the charm. In the last century, when football and hurling matches went on from after second Mass to the onset of darkness, the bonesetter was as important as today’s casualty unit in Ardkeen. Goose grease was always preserved in a jam jar for the treatment of sprains in humans and animals. Geese were killed at Christmas for St. Martin – turkeys did not take on until the 1930s.
[ This is a Catholic parish web site and the cures and customs described here do not form part of our Catholic beliefs. But the parishioners of 1894 were not theologians like we are and their belief system was part Christian, part pagan, part Irish – a bit tangled, in fact. So we have published Rita Byrne’s wonderful article because, although it is full of heresies, they are the very best of heresies. – Comms Team.]
What was life like for the people who built our church?
The Fenor of 1894 was very different from the Fenor of today. It is difficult to visualise houses without running water or electricity, no TV in the living room, and no car outside the door. The lives of our grandparents were hard by comparison with ours and were still dominated by the old ways. Practices and customs that had been handed down from their forefathers were faithfully adhered to. There was a time and a way to do all things and there were spirits to be respected and deferred to.
Our grandparents had tremendous faith in God and in the saints but they also respected the power of the fairies and the spirit world. For centuries these traditions, customs, beliefs, and cures remained alive. Now, with the coming of the age of technology, they have virtually disappeared. Much of what is here will, no doubt, be dismissed as piseóga or superstition. However, for some, they are a never-ending source of delight and curiosity.
From birth to death and in between
The coming of a baby into a family was a great and happy event. The time of birth was important. Babies came, usually, with the phase of the moon and, if a baby was overdue, the old people would be out watching the moon to see how close to the full moon or new moon it was. May Day was a very lucky day on which to give birth, but Whitsun was deemed to be the most unlucky time. Before birth it was possible to predict the baby’s sex by swinging a string, which was threaded through a needle and stuck into a cork like a pendulum, over the tummy of the expectant mother – right to left for a boy, and in a circle for a girl. “Tá sé ag teacht abhaile” was a way of letting adults know that somebody was pregnant while shielding the fact from children. Babies were sometimes lazy and took their time in coming. A full bottle of castor oil taken fasting by the mother was sure to do the trick and bring on the birth. Most babies were delivered by the local handy woman or midwife but Tramore and the area surrounding were served by a trained midwife. There were precautions taken even before birth to preserve the mother and baby and keep them free from harm and safe from the evil eye.
Should the unfortunate woman meet a hare, her baby would surely be born with a harelip. Of course this could be prevented simply by the turning up of her skirt and putting a tear in her petticoat. Men who hunted the hare always cut off the scut (tail) immediately after killing the animal for fear of the damage that it would do if it met an expectant mother. It was also considered very bad form and very dangerous for a pregnant woman to attend a funeral, since there was the fear that the baby would be born dead or deformed. Club foot was caused by the mother slipping or stumbling in the graveyard and I was told of one lady who was foolish and who went to a funeral when heavily pregnant. She leaned against a headstone and, when her baby was born, it had a birthmark in the shape of a headstone on its back. “And that’s as true as God”.
The Saddest of All Customs
The saddest of all customs were those that dealt with the death of babies and young children. Unbaptised babies could not be buried in consecrated ground so they were buried between sunset and sunrise outside the walls of the graveyard or in a disused graveyard, a cillín, or a ring fort. The souls of the little babies had to carry a lighted candle forever. Those baby-lights were often seen at night outside graveyards, especially in the month of November. People believed that the lonely little souls were searching for their parents or relations inside the graveyard.
Up to fifty years ago, unbaptised babies in Fenor were buried in the path around the graveyard. Parents did not go to the grave with the dead child, particularly if it was their first child, believing that, if they brought one child to the grave, they would bring the next and possibly all of their children there also. Should more than two infants from the same family be born dead, the cycle could be broken by changing the place in which the infants were buried.
[ How many gravestones do we see that record family deaths with a simple statement like “And four children who died young”? Young, nameless, unbaptised, unrecognised, and buried God knows where. Harsh indeed. And what about the treatment of suicides? “In England until 1823 a suicide’s body was buried at a crossroads with a stake through the heart. Until 1882 it was buried at night. All the property of a suicide was confiscated until 1870.” Time magazine, November 2nd, 1959. – Comms Team. ]
Babies born with a caul were blessed with a great talent or gift. A caul is a membranous tissue which covers the head and neck. This caul was always preserved by the child’s mother and sailors valued it above all other things, believing that, if they had a caul on board ship, they would never be drowned.
Babies and Fairies
The evil eye, the fairies and the púicín had the life scared in most people and parents were especially vigilant. A piece of silver was placed in the cradle to preserve the baby from evil and salt was rubbed on the forehead. Neighbours and friends, on first seeing the baby, would place a silver coin in its hand or shawl. Under no circumstances could the baby’s nails be cut until after the first birthday since, if the nails were cut, the child would grow up to be a thief. Instead, the nails were bitten off by the parent and placed in the bottom of the cradle.
Baby boys, of course, were in greater danger than baby girls because the fairies were always on the lookout for little boys, so great care had to be taken to keep them safe. Young boys were dressed in petticoats until they were six or seven years old to fool the fairies. Despite this they sometimes succeeded in switching babies and, instead of a beautiful happy thriving child, a “sheevra” [siaḃra] was left. This sheevra was a cross, contrary little fellow who would fail to thrive. He was sometimes called an “auaichin” [aḃacín]. Baby girls were sometimes marked by fairies also. Late in the last century, a woman in the parish who was thinning turnips, left a baby girl wrapped in a shawl on the headland of the field. She heard the baby scream and ran to see what was wrong. One of the child’s legs had withered, and stuck out at an angle. She remained like that until the day she died. The place where she had been left was a fairy pass – or so it was generally believed.
Cures
Children who survived the rigours of childbirth had then to face childhood illnesses – without the medical services and antibiotics that are available to us today. Scalds were treated with the first snow of the year. The snow water was melted and kept. Burns were treated with bread soda or linseed oil, or country butter and egg yolk made into a paste. A badly burned or scalded child was plunged into the churn of buttermilk and, of course, there was always the dog’s lick, which had great curative powers.
Cod-liver oil and Scott’s Emulsion were taken by children to build up their strength and prevent cold and childhood illnesses. Adults took raw eggs beaten up with warm milk and a drop of whiskey, or a glass of mulled stout with sugar was almost as good. Vick was used on the chest and a spoon of honey soothed a chesty cough. For pneumonia, a poultice of candle wax on brown paper was wrapped around the body. People who suffered from backache always carried a small potato in their pocket and Our Lady’s flower was carried in the pocket to prevent stroke. This little blue flower grows commonly in the month of May. Of course, red flannel worn across the back, was especially good for low back pain. This flannel should be washed. Pepper, especially Cayenne pepper, taken fasting, mixed with a drop of water and followed by a big glass of milk or water, was a marvellous cure for arthritis, rheumatism, lumbago or sciatica.
Most of us have spent a sleepless night or two counting the hours until dawn. The cure for insomnia is very simple – onions boiled in milk, sprinkled with pepper, and taken as a bedtime drink. This was also very good for the kidneys. Hives were common in children, probably because of deficiency in the diet, so boiled nettles were eaten in March to clear the blood. Slouchán was boiled in March, too, and given to children for worms. This dose was repeated after eight days. Three drinks of barnacle water in March kept a child free from worms for the year, and “yalla male” (yellow meal) stir-about cleared a child of tape worms.
Whooping Cough
Many of us remember the horror of whooping cough for which there was no medical cure, but of folk cures there were many – most of them hair-raising. A live frog put into the child’s mouth when fasting should cure the whooping.
[ The picture of a live frog was provided by the Comms Team. It will surely cure the whooping! ]
The usual cure was to ask a man riding a white horse for his cure, which was usually to pass the child over and under the horse three times. Ferrets’ leavings were given to the patient as a good cure. A plate of bread and milk was given to the ferrets and whatever was left was fed to the patients. Paddy Power has an Irish cure which goes like this: “Bhí fear ag marcaíocht go dtí an margadh i nDún Ghearbhán agus ag an droichead in nDún na Mainistreach bhí seanbhean ina suí agus d’iarr sí air., ‘A fhear a chapall bháin, cad é an leigheas ar an triuc?’ D’fhreagair sé í, ‘A Dhún Ghearbhán beirig an “whey” (boiled whey). Sin é an leigheas ar an triuc?'” (Whooping cough was also called pioc or chin-cough).
A stocking filled with warm salt was put around a sore throat, and salt and water was gargled. I got a cure for jaundice from an elderly neighbour twenty-five years ago which really works. The blossom of the furze was boiled with vinegar, beer, brown sugar, and saffron. This was taken, about a wineglass per day, for nine days. Another good cure, which is still in use, is the inner bark of the barberry, infused with porter and brown sugar, and taken three times. These cures work on dogs as well as humans.
The common cure for headache and also for throat ailments was the Brat Bríde or the St. Brigid’s ribbon. The ribbon, which was left outside on the eve of St. Brigid’s Day, was blessed by the saint. The ribbon was put around the head or throat of the patient. The brat or ribbon was also put across the cow’s back when calving or if she was sick. On St. Brigid’s eve men also put out their braces or galluses so that the saint would bless them also. This blessing gave the men strength to do their daily work for the whole year. It was believed that thin, skinny children got over measles more easily than fat children and that any ailment that came with measles stayed with the person for life. Deafness and sore eyes and often blindness or partial blindness resulted from measles, so the patient was kept in darkness to protect the eyes. Sore eyes were treated with cold tea or by twisting a gold wedding ring around the eye nine times, and the thorn of the gooseberry bush was used to let out the puss in a stye. The blessed well of St. Declan was the place to go on pilgrimage for people who feared blindness and many people went on horseback or by pony and trap to Ardmore to wash in the water and do the rounds.
[ Declan founded a seminary in Ardmore circa 416. The Holy Well served as a baptistery to the primitive Christian missionaries. Declan Christianised the area of Decies before St. Patrick came in 431. – Comms Team. ]
Leg ulcers, which were a common complaint in the elderly, especially in women, were treated with a bandage of green cabbage or slánlus (or slanns). Skin cancer was treated with pennyleaf or dock leaf and so were nettle stings. Bee stings were rubbed with the blue bag and wasp stings were cured by rubbing a raw onion on the affected area.
The Blacksmith Doctor
Water from the forge had magical cures and was used to cure itch, chilblains, eczema, to remove warts, and to get rid of freckles. The blacksmith could diagnose and cure most of the ailments of animals, especially horses. Tom Power (RIP), who was the local blacksmith and was the seventh generation of blacksmiths of that name, could cure rickets.
Rickets caused deformed limbs in children and was common early this century. The blacksmith made the sign of the cross on the thumbnail of the child with a piece of iron over the anvil. He said a prayer also – perhaps the Ár nAthair.
People who have suffered from shingles tell me that it is a very painful ailment, sore and difficult to cure. There is a charm to cure shingles which works and the shingles clear up within a few days. The person with the charm pricks the finger and makes a circle of blood around the affected area. This is repeated three times. Cahills and Caulfields have the cure for shingles, so the cure is known as Cahill’s blood or Caulfield’s blood. Seventh sons have the cure for ringworms and they are also blessed with the ability to set bones and cure sprains. When a seventh son or, better still, the seventh son of a seventh son was born, a worm was put into its hand and, if the worm curled up and died, the child had the charm. In the last century, when football and hurling matches went on from after second Mass to the onset of darkness, the bonesetter was as important as today’s casualty unit in Ardkeen. Goose grease was always preserved in a jam jar for the treatment of sprains in humans and animals. Geese were killed at Christmas for St. Martin – turkeys did not take on until the 1930s.
Warts and Bleeding
Warts must have been a very common complaint in days gone by because everybody in the parish has a treatment which works. People believed that warts on the hands were caused by washing the hands in water in which eggs were boiled. A fasting spit rubbed on the wart or the froth from the cuckoo’s spit, or water from the forge, all worked a treat. There is a wart well in Drumcannon below Tramore and there was a stone in the orchard of Power’s, Islandtarsnay (the Tailors). This stone had a depression in it where rainwater collected. You just washed the affected part in this water and, appropriately, it was called the wart stone. The dew of the grass before sunrise on May morning removed warts as well as corns, bunions, freckles, and all skin blemishes, and guaranteed eternal beauty.
Stranger still are the following cures. If the wart is rubbed with a piece of fat-bacon and the bacon is then buried, the wart disappears as the bacon rots away. A raw potato rubbed on and then thrown away works the same way. A very common cure is the shellakiepookie cure. You get a shellakiepookie (snail), rub the wart with him, stick him on a thorn and, as he withers away, the wart disappeares. Caustic soda and wart plant (spunk) were rubbed on the wart.
There were two people from the parish who had the charm to cure warts. They used a straw from the rick and made the sign of the cross on the wart, then they buried the straw and the wart just disappeared within a few days. If all of these failed, a hair from the horse’s tail was tied tightly around the wart until it withered. Take your pick, they all work if you have faith.
To Stop Bleeding
The charm to stop bleeding was most peculiar because it worked on animals as well as people and it worked at a distance.
William Kiely from Killfarrasy had the charm. A mare of Bob Phelan’s jumped a gate and burst a vein in her leg when she hit the top rail. The workman ran for William. He had a prayer that he used to say to stop the bleeding. The workman urged him to come quickly but he answered, “I said the prayer, it will be stopped when I get there” – and it was.
The charm to stop bleeding was passed from a man to a woman to a man and could not be used unless someone requested it. (I was privileged to be given the prayer to stop bleeding by Tommy Drohan, who got it from his grandmother.) St. Martin’s blood was also used to clear bleeding. On St. Martin’s eve (November 10th) a cock or some domestic animal was killed and the blood was sprinkled on the door-post and also on a cloth. This cloth was kept safely and applied to any bleeding wound.
For every ailment there was a folk-cure – an eelskin for tralach [tráileaċ], or cork under the matress for cramps in the legs, boiling potato-water for hangnail, oatmeal water for freckles, a cobweb or a key down the back of the neck for nosebleed. Many of the old cures are lost and very few of them are used. Nowadays, however, there are still people to whom we turn in times of specific need – the healers and the people with “the cure” .
“Sunday is Confraternity Sunday”. This was an announcement most likely to be made at the main meal on the previous Thursday or Friday when all the family was likely to be assembled. In most cases it was not entirely welcome, especially by the male members. It involved examination of conscience, trying to sort out the deliberate indiscretions, and making excuses where the prevailing situation created doubt as to the seriousness of the offence. Were the circumstances in your favour to make it a venial or the more serious mortal sin? Not conducive to a carefree weekend.
Having been shrived, you recited your penance and went out the door like a shot. It was notable that confraternity members made an effort to refrain from uttering the usual expletives at least until after Sunday. Sunday morning was a trial, going about the usual routine on an empty stomach, portraying your best devout poise as if you were enjoying it. The church sported the banners denoting the different guilds, i.e., Sacred Heart, St. Joseph. The females on the left side approached the altar first for Holy Communion and then the males on the right. There was always the few hard men who didn’t conform to confraternity discipline. They tended to throw cold water on what they oft called “the holy Joes”.
This is the name of an article by Mrs. Rita Byrne in the book Fenor 2010 – Growing and Changing. Eight women shared their experiences with Rita who recorded the conversations on an old-fashioned “steam tape cassette” and transcribed them for the book. Isn’t it what we all say we should do when we meet with the older generation and get them talking? But we don’t do it and the memories are lost for ever.
The charm to stop bleeding was most peculiar because it worked on animals as well as people and it worked at a distance.
