Wagga Wagga: where the scent runs dry.

As I mentioned in my last post, Bridget and George Merritt were veritable vagabonds constantly on the move through regional New South Wales. After getting married in Sydney, having their first three children in Mudgee and then moving to Morpeth, Tamworth and down south to Borrowa, I found a baptism for their daughter Charlotte Merritt in Wagga Wagga in on the 5 May 1878.

Charlotte Merritt

Interestingly, their names had all been Latinised in the records. Charlotte became Charlotta Maria Agnes. George became Georgius and her mother became Birgitta Donovan. Charlotte was baptised at St Michael’s Catholic Church, Wagga Wagga, New South Wales, Australia. This Church building pre-dates the beautiful old stone Church which is St Michael’s today.

Of course, I can not presume that either Bridget or George were living in Wagga Wagga at the time. While these days a 14 year old is still almost considered a child and certainly too young to be living out of home, that wasn’t the case back in in the 1870s. She was old enough to work and could have had an independent position as a domestic servant perhaps.

Wagga Wagga is located on the Murrumbidgee River. The original Aboriginal inhabitants of the Wagga Wagga region were the Wiradjuri people and the term “Wagga” and derivatives of that word in the Wiradjuri aboriginal language is thought to mean “crow”. To create the plural, the Wiradjuri repeat a word, thus ‘Wagga Wagga’ translates to ‘the place of many crows’. However, it wasn’t just the crows which were attracted to the area and poet and author Dame Mary Gilmore noted that the locality was the breeding-ground of birds of all kinds. Food abounded on land and in the water, consequently eggs were plentiful (young birds too), and the crows fared well. So did the eagles, some of which were of great size- Jennifer Strauss, Collected verse of Mary Gilmore,, University of Queensland Press, 2007, p. 642.

WAGGA in the 1870s…

In 1870 Wagga Wagga had been established as a municipality. There were some 2,500 people within its boundaries and about 7,000 in the surrounding districts with about 7,000 acres under agriculture.

In the 1870s the Presentation Sisters established a school in Wagga Wagga. You can read through their history here: http://presentationsociety.org.au/congregations/wagga-wagga/history/

The Capture of Captain Midnight

I am just doing some very quick research about Wagga Wagga in the day and it is interesting to note that at the same time that the Presentation Sisters were setting up a convent and school in Wagga Wagga, the infamous bushranger Captain Midnight who was, appeared near the district and was subsequently captured.  On 15 November 1879, Captain Midnight arrived  looking for work at Wantabadgery Station which is situated about 38 km east of Wagga. When work was refused, Moonlite and his band of 5 others returned and held up all 39 people at the station. Later one of the hostages escaped and three mounted police from Wagga Wagga arrived and were engaged  in a shoot out. When the police retreated, Moonlite and his gang escaped only to be captured at another nearby property when police from the neighbouring townships of Gundagai and Adelong arrived. Moonlite was later hung for his crimes. Wikipaedia.

This is obviously very early dates in my research and I am just pasting bits and pieces in as I find them at this stage. I really do like to explore the local context in my research but with Bridget and George moving around so much, my interest in wearing a bit thin…especially as I still haven’t found enough conclusive evidence to order possible death certificates for George Merritt and I have still found no traces of a death for Bridget Merritt at all.

I’ll keep you posted and as usual welcome any contributions.

xx Rowena

Sources:

http://presentationsociety.org.au/congregations/wagga-wagga/history/

Welcome to Morpeth 1864

Goodness knows what lead George and Bridget Merritt to move from Mudgee to Morpeth. My sense of direction and where all these country towns are plonked on the map has never been good but thanks to Google, you can pretty much find the answer to anything!!

Google very knowledgeably informed me that it will take 3 hours and 19 minutes to drive  283.4 KM from Mudgee to Morpeth under current traffic conditions. Hmm…wonder how long it took George, Bridget and their three young sons and how they moved from A to B?

A copy of Charlotte Merritt’s Birth Certificate. The original had been completed by the midwife. Bridget was illiterate.

I don’t know exactly when the Merritt family arrived in Morpeth or how long they stayed. What I do know is that their fourth child and eldest daughter, Charlotte, who is my Great Great Grandmother, was born there on the 5th January, 1864. Her birth certificate provides a good snapshot of the family at the time. George, a labourer, was 38 years old and had been born in Overton, Hampshire. Bridget was 29 years old and was born in Middleton, Cork, Ireland. The couple had 3 males living. The informant was Sophia Wiseman, Midwife, Morpeth.

Charlotte Curtin nee Merritt was born in Morpeth.

At the time of Charlotte Merritt’s birth, Morpeth was a thriving town. Located on the Hunter River, North of Newcastle, it was a significant river port.

Flooding in Maitland 1864-Image courtesy of the National Library.

It turns out that 1864 was a particularly bad year for flooding in Morpeth and surrounding districts. A La Niña event spanning 1860–1864 brought repeated widespread flooding to settlements across NSW and the floods in 1863 and 1864 were the most severe with much of the New England and Hunter Valley regions inundated with floodwaters. There was a bad flood throughout the Hunter Valley in 13th February, 1864 when Charlotte was just over a month old.

It seemed that quite a lot of major building was going on in Morpeth around the time the Merritt’s were there. Morpeth Court House and Morpeth Public School were both opened in 1862.  In May 1864, a branch railway from East Maitland to Morpeth was opened.

I have reblogged a post I wrote on my other blog: http://www.beyondtheflow.com about a few day trips I made to Morpeth. These days, it is such an enchanting, historic place. The buildings which were built around the time of Charlotte’s birth are now much loved historic landmarks and over 150 years old. That’s an interesting thought.

I will be researching Bridget and George’s time in Morpeth in more detail down the track.

xx Rowena

Sources

http://climatehistory.com.au/2012/09/27/la-nina-brings-flooding-rains-to-nsw-in-the-early-1860s/

The Irish Famine Memorial, Hyde Park Barracks

So often we blink and we miss it…even something blatantly obvious or significant. 

Somehow, despite my long standing interest in my own Irish roots, I didn’t find out about the Irish Famine Memorial at Sydney’s Hyde Park Barracks until quite recently. That’s right…until I a Google search.This was the same  Google search which showed that my Great Great Great Grandmother, Bridget Donovan, was a Irish Famine orphan who had arrived in Sydney on board the John Knox on the 29th April, 1850. 

No doubt, I’ve walked past the Famine Memorial many times since its completion in 1999. Yet, I missed it. If you know me, that isn’t exactly surprising. With my head up in the clouds or my attention focused through a camera lens, I frequently miss even the blatantly obvious.

It’s a pity because this monument is so much more than a static reminder of the Famine. Rather, it has become something of a living, breathing focal point not just for people exploring their Irish roots like myself but also for the modern Australian-Irish community, especially at it’s annual commemorative event. You could say any excuse for a Guinness will do!

While you might be wondering why anyone would build a monument commemorating an Irish famine which took place over 150 years ago in modern Sydney, it is worth remembering that many, many Irish emigrated to Australia particularly during or soon after the famine. This means that the Irish Famine is, in a sense, part of Australia’s story as well. 

Moreover, the Irish Famine wrought such devastation that it must be remembered. We should never forget that an estimated 1 million people lost their lives and a further 1 million emigrated and what a loss of that magnitude meant for the Irish people…those who left and also those who stayed behind.

While I grew up as an Australian understanding that my Dad’s family had emigrated due to the potato famine, this was a simplistic view. The causes of the Irish Famine were much more complex than the potato blight itself and certainly our family didn’t emigrate until the tail end of the famine, or even a few years after the famine had “ended”. This is interesting food for thought and I can’t help thinking the Australian Gold rushes also attracted its share of struggling Irish searching for their pot of gold at what must have seemed like the end of a very long rainbow.

While I recommend visiting the Memorial in person, the Irish Famine Memorial’s website also provides helpful background information about the Irish Orphan Girls and the Irish Famine Memorial. It includes a searchable database you can find out if you, like me, can claim an Irish Orphan girl. There are over 4,000 up for grabs and the good news is that you don’t even have to feed them.You have a better chance than winning Lotto!

You can click here to access the web site: Mmhttp://www.irishfaminememorial.org/en/

About the Monument

Although I have visited the monument a couple of times, I have learned so much more about it since deciding to write this post.

Bridget Donovan wasn’t on the list… missing in action yet again!!

The Australian Monument to the Great Irish Famine (1845-1852) is located at the Hyde Park Barracks, on Macquarie Street, Sydney, Australia. It was designed by Angela & Hossein Valamanesh (artists) & Paul Carter (soundscape). I must admit that I didn’t notice the soundscape on my visits and I missed much of the detail and symbolism in the monument itself. My attention at the time was focused on the list of names etched into the glass and finding out that Bridget Donovan, as usual, was missing…lost, silent. The artists had selected 400 names to represent the over 4,000 Irish orphan girls so you had to be lucky for your girl to be chosen. However, the artists had chosen the girls above and below Bridget on the shipping list and had left Bridget out. I swear it is like Bridget has activated some kind of privacy block from the grave. “Leave me alone”. She really doesn’t want to be found.

The Plaque

The web site provides a detailed explanation of the monument:

“On the internal side of the wall, the long table represents the institutional side of things. There is a plate, a spoon and a place to sit on a three legged stool. There are also a couple of books including a Bible, and a little sewing basket. In contrast, on the other side, is the continuation of the same table, but much smaller in scale. There sits the bowl which is hollow and actually cannot hold anything, representing lack of food and lack of possibilities. There is also the potato digging shovel, called a loy, leaning against the wall near a shelf containing some potatoes. The selection of 400 names, some of which fade, also indicates some of the girls who are lost to history and memory.”

Anyway, even if you can’t claim Irish blood, the Irish famine Memorial is certainly worth a visit and you can check out the Hyde Park Barracks Museum while you are there.

Bridget would have worn something like this simple dress…Hyde Park Barracks Museum.

Are you a descendent from one of these Irish Orphan girls? If so, I would love to hear your story and you are welcome to post a link to your Irish orphan girl in the comments below.

xx Rowena

Welcome to Bridget Donovan’s Journey

Through a strange twist of fate otherwise known as a Google search, I recently found out that my Great Great Great Grandmother, Bridget Donovan, was one of the Irish Orphan Girls who emigrated out to Australia as part of the Earl Grey Scheme 1848-1850.

This discovery has launched a personal quest to find the scattered pieces of Bridget’s life and glue them back together again. Not only to get to know her better but also to pass her legacy onto our children. I want them to grow up knowing that even when we are seemingly weak, feeling battered and beaten that we can often find a way to conquer our personal mountain and that we can actually overcome a great deal of our personal difficulties. We should never give up. When we set out on a journey, we don’t know what is possible and we might just reach the stars… in effect soaring so far beyond our wildest dreams. This is a road I have traveled myself through a severe, long-term chronic illness and I personally know what it is to be a survivor and experience such miracles.

Here I am following in Bridget’s footsteps at the Hyde Park Barracks, formerly the Immigration Depot.

Unfortunately, like so many little people throughout history, Bridget has become invisible, silent and I am struggling to even find her footsteps let alone squeeze my feet in her shoes.

However, I have been able to put some details together.

Bridget Donovan was born in Midleton, Cork, Ireland in about 1835 and her parents were Dennis and Mary Donovan. Dennis died during the Irish Famine but Mary was living in Cloyne at the time Bridget emigrated. After losing her father, Bridget ended up in Midleton Workhouse where she was chosen to board the John Knox bound for a new life in Sydney, New South Wales.  As Anais Nin wrote: “…the day came when the risk it took to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom”. The John Knox sailed from Plymouth on the 10^th December 1849 and arrived in Sydney 4.5 months later on the 29^th April, 1850. Along with the other girls on the ship, Bridget would have been escorted up Macquarie Street to what is now the Hyde Park Barracks, which acted as a recruitment agency of sorts. It appears that Bridget went into service and I am chasing up details there. On 5^th August, 1853, Bridget married George Merritt, a 33 year old Englishman from Overton, Hampshire. They had 5 children including my Great Great Grandmother, Charlotte Merritt, who was born in Morpeth. The family moved around country New South Wales from Mudgee, to Morpeth, Tamworth and South to Wagga Wagga. That is where the trail ends and as yet I have been unable to find Bridget’s death but it is only early days.

So who was Bridget Donovan who later went on to become Bridget Merritt?

Did Bridget look something like this in older age? Photographed this image at the Hyde Park Barracks on Sunday.

Obviously, I have no idea. I didn’t know Bridget personally. I didn’t grow up being bounced up and down on her knee or falling asleep in her lap as she sang me lullabies in her Irish brogue or perhaps read me a story. Well, she couldn’t have read me a story as Bridget could neither read nor write but as I grew up, I could have read her the newspaper instead. No doubt, she would have loved to hear me play my violin which she knew as a fiddle, even if screeched like a scalded cat. Or perhaps she would have taught me how to play the very same way I have been teaching my own daughter the violin more off than on. The one thing I do know about almost all grandmothers is that they love you to bits and you can do no wrong. Indeed, I’m sure Bridget would even have loved my son’s many, many knock-knock jokes.

A copy of Bridget’s daughter’s birth certificate.  The original had been completed by the midwife. Bridget was illiterate.

Despite growing up in a close knit family of Irish-Catholic descent who has always been interested in our family history and stories, Bridget was a stranger to me. She was simply a name on her daughter’s birth certificate which had been printed off for some reason in 1900 and kept in the safe at the family business. I was unraveling her daughter Charlotte’s life when a chance Google search showed that a Bridget Donovan who matched mine, was listed as an Irish Orphan Girl on the Irish Famine Memorial website. Last Sunday, I attended the annual commemoration of the Irish Famine Monument at Sydney’s Hyde Park Barracks and I now feel compelled to tell Bridget’s story.

We do not have a photo of Bridget. This is a photo of her daughter, Charlotte Merritt. Did she look like her mother?

The trouble is that I need to find Bridget first and that’s proving so much harder than I thought. As much as I want to have a cup of tea and chat with Bridget, she remains obstinately silent. Talk about a one-sided conversation. Birth records, death records, these are still elusive let alone finding out anything personal. Her lips are sealed.

Yet, just because I am struggling to reassemble the puzzle pieces, doesn’t mean that Bridget’s story shouldn’t be told. It just means I have to work harder, smarter and reach out for some help…especially trying to pick up the Irish threads. Even if I could afford unlimited travel to Ireland, I am still an Australian with Australian eyes and an Australian heart (even though a good portion of it does have Irish roots). However, I would really love build a connection with Ireland to recreate Bridget’s story in a truly authentic way. By joining hands we can hopefully reconstruct Bridget’s journey as an Irish-Australian story.

So what’s the plan?

I am going to start posting the information I already have about Bridget’s journey onto this blog and I will keep adding to each post as further information comes to hand. You can add your information to the blog under the comments section and then I can look at it and then work it into the main text with acknowledgement.

Like most journey’s, I don’t know where this road is taking me but I am looking forward to whatever lies ahead.

xx Rowena