Originally from Cornwall, the Codd family is thought to have come to Ireland as part of the Cambro-Norman invasion. One Hivelot Cod witnessed a charter of Raymond FitzGerald (otherwise known as Raymond le Gros) at some date between 1175-1185, and within a decade or so Hugh Cod who attested a grant to Dunbrody Abbey before 1200, indicating that by then the Codds already had become established in what is now County Wexford where they built and occupied a number of castles. So it remained until the upheavals of the 17th century when, while some branches of the family converted to the Anglican faith, others remained resolutely members of the Roman Catholic church and suffered in consequence. One of them, James Codd of Clougheast Castle near Carne, a captain in the Confederate army, was killed at Duncannon in 1643, seemingly leaving one daughter. The Down Survey of 1655 notes that in 1641 James Codd, an Irish Papist, had owned 194 acres in Carne parish 186 of which, including Clougheast Castle, were then granted to Edmond Waddy, a cornet in the Cromwellian army. His descendants lived in the old building until the late 18th century when Dr Richard Waddy, described as a physician and yeoman, began constructing a new three-storey house to one side of the castle.  It has been proposed that this building was burnt by insurgents during the 1798 Rising.

Perhaps because of the assault on his property, Dr Waddy became a loyal supporter of the British government and following the collapse of the rising in June 1798, he led a search party that discovered two key figures in the Wexford rebellion, John Henry Colclough and Bagenal Harvey, who had been hiding on the Greater Saltee Island several miles off the coast: both men were subsequently hanged. While toasted by government authorities for his actions, Waddy then attracted widespread opprobrium in the area, so much so that he retreated to Clougheast Castle and barricaded himself there with a handful of servants. However, in February 1800, the
Gentleman’s Magazine carried a report of ‘an occurrence of a very extraordinary kind’ which had occurred there some time before. According to the article, Dr Waddy was in such fear for his own security that the entrance to his bedroom was secured by an antique portcullis. It then explained that ‘A few days ago, a mendicant popish friar of Taghmon, named Burn, visited the doctor in his castle, and was hospitably entertained at dinner – in the evening, when it was time to part, Burn begged to be allowed to remain, and after some difficulty on the part of his host, was permitted to lie in a second bed in the vaulted chamber. While the Doctor and the friar were going to their beds, the friar expressed great anxiety that his host should say his prayers, a duty which the Doctor, who had drank freely, seemed disposed to neglect; in the middle of the night, Doctor Waddy heard somebody drawing his cavalry sword, which hung at his bed’s head, and immediately after was attacked by the friar, and was now endeavouring to murder his host; the latter received several wounds in the head and arm, and at length the friar supposing that he had accomplished his purpose, attempted escape under the portcullis. Doctor Waddy had just strength enough remaining to loose the cord which supported it, and it fell on the priest with such violence, almost to sever his body, which fell down lifeless into the apartment below. The next morning the body of the friar was found, and the servants, going into their master’s apartment, found him covered in his own blood – Immediate medical aid was had, and we have the satisfaction of hearing that Doctor Waddy is now out of danger. A Coroner’s Inquest was held on the body of Burn, and the jury (composed of the Roman Catholic inhabitants of the neighbourhood) found a verdict of “accidental death”.’ Several decades later, in the first volume of his entertaining but unreliable Personal Reminiscences, Sir Jonah Barrington told the story of Dr Waddy and the friar but embellished it by describing how half of the deceased (that part which lay inside the portcullis) was eaten by the castle’s occupant, too fearful to leave his home in search of other food. A fanciful story, but quite without basis in fact. Dr Waddy remained in possession of Clougheast Castle until his death in 1826 when it was inherited by his only son John, also a physician and a local Justice of the Peace.

Dr John Waddy appears not to have lived in Clougheast Castle but instead to have built a new residence nearby, a two-storey thatched house. Through his mother, Oscar Wilde was related to the Waddys and is said to have visited Clougheast Cottage, as the building was called, on several occasions. Dr John Waddy died without issue in 1875, and while his widow remained there for at least a decade, the property was later sold and passed through a succession of hands before being bought by the present owner more than 20 years ago. By then, the adjacent house, built by Dr Richard Waddy but then left a shell, had been turned into a family home (and the courtyard converted into a number of residences) but the castle itself needed the complete renovation it has since received.  Thought to date from the 15th century when constructed by the Codds, it rises three storeys over a barrel-vaulted chamber, climbing to the attic gable which incorporates a dovecote. Above, this a walled walk around the pitched roof provides superlative views across the surrounding landscape. Many of the rooms below, given new floors and ceilings, still retain their fireplace and window openings. During the course of the restoration, many items were discovered spanning the centuries since the castle was first raised; these have been carefully preserved and help to explain the building’s evolution. This has been a long and carefully considered enterprise, as so often embarked upon by the owner without necessarily appreciating how much time and effort (and indeed cost) would be involved. An philanthropic undertaking that merits everyone’s gratitude.

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