Category Archives: Historic Ruins

Signs of Former Greatness



Scattered around the market town of Clones, County Monaghan is evidence that this was once an important religious centre. A monastery was founded here in the first half of the sixth century by Saint Tigernach (d.549) which in due course became a substantial establishment, the abbots of which are mentioned several times in the Annals of the Four Masters. A ruined 12th century church (locally known as the Wee Abbey) and a High Cross in the town centre are two of the remains from this earlier history, as is a Round Tower found set into the walls of an oval graveyard on the outskirts of Clones. Some 75 feet high, it has lost its cone roof but retains the doorway some distance above ground, as well as a number of small window openings on different sides. Around the tower are tombstones of varying dates, some of them going back to the 18th century.



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And Speaking of Ruins



At Coola, a mile to the north of Kilbeggan, County Westmeath and beside the river Brosna stand the remains of a once very substantial corn mill complex. Seemingly, it was initially started c.1770 by the Fitzpatrick family, who also had another such enterprise not far away at Ballynagore. The property was sold in 1781 to the Connollys who greatly expanded both the business and the buildings: by 1790 more flour was being produced here than at any other mill in Westmeath, sending 4,693 tonnes to Dublin.  Further development occurred in the early decades of the 19th century when oatmeal and barley were also milled on the site. Although predominantly utilitarian in design, there are some decorative flourishes such as the brick crenellations on one five storey block, at the base of which is the shell of a cottage with arched door and windows and hooded mouldings. The mill remained in operation until the 1970s, since when it has fallen into its present condition.



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The Country for Ruins

Lackeen Castle, County Tipperary

A request to speak at a forthcoming academic event exploring various perceptions of ruins has led the Irish Aesthete to consider, not for the first time, what might be the particular appeal of historic buildings that have fallen into decay, and why there are so many of them in this country. ‘To delight in the aspects of sentient ruin might appear a heartless pastime,’ Henry James confessed in Italian Hours (1873) ‘and the pleasure, I confess, shows the note of perversity.’ Tumbling roofs and crumbling walls have long exerted a particular appeal, as was noted by Rose Macaulay in her wonderful 1953 book Pleasure of Ruins when she rhetorically enquired ‘what part is played by morbid pleasure in decay, by righteous pleasure in retribution…’ The morbidity of ruins without doubt helps to explain their attraction: in a state of decay, they allow us to engage in romantic speculation which may or may not be accurate. There are certainly many opportunities to engage in such hypothesising in Ireland. In some instances, they can be wonderfully picturesque, a fact highlighted by the clergyman and author William Gilpin who in 1782 published his highly influential book, Observations on the River Wye, and Several Parts of South Wales, etc. Relative Chiefly to Picturesque Beauty; made in the Summer of the Year 1770. Among the points he made was that in landscape painting the presence of a ruined castle or abbey would add to the work what he called ‘consequence.’ The truth of this observation had already been made apparent in the previous century by a number of French artists – Poussin, Claude Lorain, Dughet – based in Italy where they produced paintings in which ruins were often a notable feature.

Clonfert Palace, County Galway

Rappa Castle, County Mayo

Dromore Castle, County Limerick

Graffan House, County Offaly

Works such as those painted by the likes of Poussin et al are known to have had a critical influence on the design of both British and Irish country house landscapes in the 18th century, when the pictures were bought by Grand Tourists and brought back home where parklands and demesnes were laid out to look like them. Sometimes, to enhance the view, they even incorporated artificial ruins as was the case in a number of properties around the country. At Belvedere, County Westmeath, for example, the ‘Jealous Wall’ was constructed. Some 180 feet long, this theatrical sham ruin dates from c.1760 when commissioned by Robert Rochfort, first Earl of Belvedere. Seemingly, it was built in order to block the view south towards Tudenham Park, a house further along Lough Ennell which had been erected some years before by the earl’s younger brother, George Rochfort, with whom he had quarreled. The earl might simply have asked for a high wall, but instead opted for one that romantically looks like the remains of an ancient castle. At Heywood, County Laois – where the grounds were laid out by owner Frederick Trench installed a number of fake ruins in the 1770s, including what appear to be the remains of a ruined medieval church, incorporating a traceried window thought  to be 15th century and to have been brought from the former Dominican friary at Aghaboe, some twelve miles away. Towards the end of the 18th century, the demesne at Lawrencetown, County Galway was similarly enhanced by the addition of a number of follies, including a Gothick eyecatcher, intended to suggest the remains of an otherwise lost building. Back in County Westmeath, at Killua Sir Benjamin Chapman acquired some of the stonework from a medieval Franciscan friary at Multyfarnham and around 1800 used this material to create a charming ‘ruin’ visible from the garden front of the house. 

The Jealous Wall, Belvedere, County Westmeath

Heywood, County Laois

Lawrencetown, County Galway

Killua Castle, County Westmeath

Even without the addition of fake examples, Ireland has never been short of ruins. The observations of  German writer and geographer Johann Georg Kohl who visited Ireland in 1841 have been cited before. ‘Of all the countries in the world’, he wrote, ‘Ireland is the country for ruins. Here you have ruins of every period of history, from the time of the Phoenicians down to the present day…down to our own times each century has marked its progress by the ruins it has left. Nay, every decade, one might almost say, has set its sign upon Ireland, for in all directions you see a number of dilapidated buildings, ruins of yesterday’s erection.’ What this suggests is that the Irish have a particular affinity for decay and dilapidation, given that the stock of ruined buildings seen by Kohl has only further increased since his time, although too often these additions could not be described as picturesque or romantic. Last week, the Irish Times reported on two substantial 19th century houses in Phibsborough, Dublin which in 2009 were added to the city council’s list of derelict sites. A decade later, after the buildings had fallen into still worse condition, they were compulsorily purchased by the authority which then announced plans to restore them for use as social housing. Now, after a further seven years of decline, the council has announced that the cost of undertaking such a restoration would be excessive and that there were currently ‘no plans’ for the properties. Of all the countries in the world, Ireland retains its title as the country for ruins.

Ightermurragh Castle, County Cork

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A Partial Restoration



In the first decades of the 19th century, many old places of worship in Ireland were restored or rebuilt thanks to funds from the Board of First Fruits. In Lorrha, County Tipperary, St Ruadháns church is thought to have been constructed on the site of the early monastery founded by the eponymous Ruadhán in 540. On the south wall, an arched doorway features a carved head which may represent Walter de Burgh and have been taken from the nearby Augustinian Abbey (see Former Greatness « The Irish Aesthete). Below it, a pointed doorway with decoration was added in the 15th century; it is decorated with rose motifs, vine leaves and a pelican drawing blood from its breast. According to Samuel Lewis writing in 1837, the building had been ‘recently repaired by a grant of £113 from the Ecclesiastical Commissioners.’ While the nave was left a ruin, the chancel was restored to provide a church suitable for a relatively small congregation.



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A Funeral is Passing


‘It is curious to observe how customs and ceremonies degenerate. The present Irish cry, or howl, cannot boast of such melody, nor is the funeral procession conducted with much dignity. The crowd of people who assemble at these funerals sometimes amounts to a thousand, often to four or five hundred. They gather as the bearers of the hearse proceed on their way, and when they pass through any village, or when they come near any houses, they begin to cry—Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Agh! Agh! raising their notes from the first OH! to the last AGH! in a kind of mournful howl. This gives notice to the inhabitants of the village that a FUNERAL IS PASSING and immediately they flock out to follow it. In the province of Munster it is a common thing for the women to follow a funeral, to join in the universal cry with all their might and main for some time, and then to turn and ask—”Arrah! Who is it that’s dead?—who is it we’re crying for?” Even the poorest people have their own burying-places—that is, spots of ground in the churchyards where they say that their ancestors have been buried ever since the wars of Ireland; and if these burial-places are ten miles from the place where a man dies, his friends and neighbours take care to carry his corpse thither. Always one priest, often five or six priests, attend these funerals; each priest repeats a mass, for which he is paid, sometimes a shilling, sometimes half a crown, sometimes half a guinea, or a guinea, according to their circumstances, or, as they say, according to the ability of the deceased. After the burial of any very poor man, who has left a widow or children, the priest makes what is called a COLLECTION for the widow; he goes round to every person present, and each contributes sixpence or a shilling, or what they please. The reader will find in the note upon the word WAKE, more particulars respecting the conclusion of the Irish funerals.’





‘Certain old women, who cry particularly loud and well, are in great request, and, as a man said to the Editor, “Every one would wish and be proud to have such at his funeral, or at that of his friends.” The lower Irish are wonderfully eager to attend the funerals of their friends and relations, and they make their relationships branch out to a great extent. The proof that a poor man has been well beloved during his life is his having a crowded funeral. To attend a neighbour’s funeral is a cheap proof of humanity, but it does not, as some imagine, cost nothing. The time spent in attending funerals may be safely valued at half a million to the Irish nation; the Editor thinks that double that sum would not be too high an estimate. The habits of profligacy and drunkenness which are acquired at WAKES are here put out of the question. When a labourer, a carpenter, or a smith, is not at his work, which frequently happens, ask where he is gone, and ten to one the answer is—”Oh, faith, please your honour, he couldn’t do a stroke to-day, for he’s gone to THE funeral.” Even beggars, when they grow old, go about begging FOR THEIR OWN FUNERALS that is, begging for money to buy a coffin, candles, pipes, and tobacco.’





‘Those who value customs in proportion to their antiquity, and nations in proportion to their adherence to ancient customs, will doubtless admire the Irish ULLALOO, and the Irish nation, for persevering in this usage from time immemorial. The Editor, however, has observed some alarming symptoms, which seem to prognosticate the declining taste for the Ullaloo in Ireland. In a comic theatrical entertainment, represented not long since on the Dublin stage, a chorus of old women was introduced, who set up the Irish howl round the relics of a physician, who is supposed to have fallen under the wooden sword of Harlequin. After the old women have continued their Ullaloo for a decent time, with all the necessary accompaniments of wringing their hands, wiping or rubbing their eyes with the corners of their gowns or aprons, etc., one of the mourners suddenly suspends her lamentable cries, and, turning to her neighbour, asks, “Arrah now, honey, who is it we’re crying for?”’


Extracts from Castle Rackrent by Maria Edgeworth (1800)
Photographs of a graveyard in Ballingarry, County Limerick
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The Subject of Dispute


In the early 1670s, an unseemly dispute broke out between members of the Franciscan and Dominican orders over which of them were entitled to occupy a priory in Carlingford, County Louth. Following appeals by both sides to Pope Clement X, Oliver Plunkett, then Roman Catholic Primate of Ireland, was required to settle the matter and in July 1671, following a visitation to the site, he wrote the the Papal Internuncio, ‘I find that the monastery formerly belonged to the Dominicans and that they had a convent there, the walls of which are still standing. But the Franciscans argue that for many years, and almost within the memory of man, the Dominicans were not permanently in these convents, that therefore they must be considered as abandoned, and that a prescription now exists in favour of the Franciscans. The Dominicans answer that during persecution prescription is of no avail.’ Following further consultations, Plunkett decreed in favour of the Dominicans, declaring that they had produced the authority of Ware [the historian Sir James Ware, ironically a Protestant], who says that the convent of Carlingford, under the patronage of the Earl of Ulster, belongs to the Dominicans. They, moreover, produced an instrument of the 10th year of Henry VIII, by which a citizen of Carlingford named Mariman made over a house and garden to the Dominicans of the convent of Carlingford. Again in the Dublin Register, called Defective Titles, mention is made of this convent, and they also adduced the evidence of old persons who had seen Dominicans residing near the convent before the reign of Cromwell.’ Nevertheless, the Franciscans refused to relinquish their claim, and it was not until 1678 that the matter was finally settled when Clement’s successor, Innocent XI, issued a Papal decree ordering that the Dominicans be left peacefully in the monastery.




Carlingford Priory is traditionally said to owe its origins to Richard Óg de Burgh, 2nd Earl of Ulster, who in 1305 invited the Dominican Order to settle in a site within the town. On the other hand, the Irish Historic Towns Atlas records, however, that the Dominican priory was endowed by the merchants of Carlingford in 1352. Whatever the truth, it certainly thrived although, having initially stood within the town walls, following a decline in population during the mid-14th century as a result of the Black Death, the buildings came to lie immediately outside Carlingford to the south. Dedicated to St Malachy, like so many other religious establishments in Ireland, the priory was fortified during the 15th century, as a result of almost constant warfare between different familial alliances. In 1540, when the priory was surveyed as part of the Dissolution of the Monasteries, it was described as a ‘strong mansion in need of no expenditure on repairs’ and being on ‘every side strongly fortified.’ In 1552, the property, along with others formerly held by religious orders in Newry, was granted by the English crown to Sir Nicholas Bagenal, Marshall of the Army in Ireland. How long he and his descendants held the former priory is open to question since by 1613 a number of Franciscan friars were in residence, hence their later altercation with the Dominicans over which order was entitled to be there. The latter may have won that fight but they do not appear to have lingered too long in the priory, described by a visitor in 1703 as being an old chapel and monastery in ruins and in 1726 the place was ‘defaced’ by William Stannus, then in the process of constructing Ghan House to the immediate north. In 1767 the Dominican friars moved to Dundalk, which remained their base thereafter. Meanwhile, over the next couple of centuries parts of the old friary came to serve various purposes: as a base for local herring fishermen, as a barracks and as a handball alley. 




Today, what remains of the Dominican Priory of St Malachy is the church, a tall and narrow shell being 125 feet long and 22 feet wide. Like so many others, the roofless building is divided into two sections of nave and chancel, the transition from one to another marked by a bell tower which was added in the 15th century. This was likely when the west wall of the building was crenellated, with a square turret at each corner and between them a machicolation resting on corbels. Between this and the small door is evidence of a blocked-up round arched window. The same is true for many of the openings on the north and south sides of the building. Where windows remain, they have lost everything but their outline; this is especially evident at the east end, which was once almost filled by a great arched window some 15 feet wide. Nothing of great consequence survives of the conventual buildings which would have stood to the immediate south of the church, with a cloister off which would have opened a number of spaces including refectory, kitchen and dormitories. All now gone, with just the gable end of a now-lost building, perhaps added during the Bagenal period of occupation and attached to what looks like the lower part of a tower house.. A short distance to the east are scant remains of a water-mill, and what may have been a fish-pond. Hard to believe that this spot was once the subject of fierce dispute between two religious orders.

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Clients of God



Díseart Aonghasa, or Dísert Óengusa, was founded in 780 by Saint Óengus of Tallaght. The monastery was associated with the Céile Dé or Culdees (meaning client of God), an early Christian ascetic movement. Today the site comprises the remains of a multi-period church, a round tower and a graveyard, all originally surrounded by a stone enclosure. Much altered over the centuries, the first of these was used as a parish church until 1418, while the graveyard ceased to be used after 1868. Although now incomplete and missing its conical cap, the limestone round tower still rises 20.65 metres and five storeys. Dating from the 11th/12th centuries, it has three windows as well as a doorway on the first level with carved sandstone used for their dressings.



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King John was not a Good Man


‘King John was not a good man –
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days…’
From King John’s Christmas by A.A. Milne

Historic buildings tend to attract myths, as anyone who has consulted the Dúchas national folklore collection can confirm. As an example, the number of properties in Ireland which Oliver Cromwell is held responsible for destroying would have required him to spend considerably longer than the nine months he did in this country. Similarly, the construction of a large number of Anglo-Norman castles here are often attributed to King John, although he only and briefly visited Ireland twice: the first time in 1185 when, as Lord of Ireland, he failed both to strengthen the administration of his lordship and to bring Norman colonists like Hugh de Lacy under royal control. His second visit in 1210, by which time he had become King of England, was more successful but very short, lasting two months. Nevertheless, in popular memory he is held responsible for commissioning many castles around the country, including that in Athenry, County Galway, even though he never made it to this part of the island and the castle was built some 20 years after his death in 1216.




Seemingly the earliest recorded association between Athenry Castle and King John can be found in John Dunton’s Teague Land: or A Merry Ramble to the Wild Irish published in 1698. According to Dunton, ‘When King John came into Ireland to reduce some of his rebellious people here, he built the town of Athenry, and environed it with a good stone wall to be a curb upon them in those parts.’ This association with the long-deceased monarch then became embedded in local mythology and when the peripatetic German Prince Hermann von Puckler-Muskau visited Athenry in 1828, after lamenting the wretched state of the town, he wrote that ‘Here stood a rich abbey, now overgrown with ivy, the arches which once protected the sanctuary lie in fragments amid the unsheltered altars and tombstones. Further on is a castle with walls ten feet thick, in which King John held his court of justice when he came over to Ireland.’ Likewise, a decade later the historian John O’Donovan, who worked in the Topographical Department of the first Ordnance Survey decided that Athenry seems to have been built by King John in the year 1211 to put down the Hy-Briuin, Hy-many and Hy-Fiachrach Aidhne, three most ferocious Connachtan tribes.’ On the other hand, the ever-reliable Samuel Lewis in his Topographical Dictionary of Ireland (1837) noted that Athenry was ‘the first town established by the De Burgos and Berminghams, the Anglo-Norman invaders of Connaught, and at a remote period was surrounded by walls, and became a place of importance.’ 




Meyler de Bermingham was the great-grandson of Robert de Bermingham, an Anglo-Norman knight who had arrived in Ireland in the early 1170s and settled in what is now County Offaly. In the 1230s, Meyler and his father Peter de Bermingham participated in the Norman invasion of Connaught. As part of this, the former built a castle by a fording point on the river Clarin at a spot known as Áth na Rí (Ford of the Kings), from which derives the name Athenry. As for the castle, set inside enclosure walls, it is a large three storey rectangular hall-keep with base-batter, with a basement that would have been used for storage, a great hall on the first floor and an attic above. The battlements date from the 13th century as do the arrowslits in the merlons. In the 15th century, these parapets were incorporated into gables at the north and south ends for a new roof. When first built, the castle’s entrance was at first-floor level, accessed via an external wooden stairs. Carvings on the exterior of the doorcase and inside two of the window openings feature floral motifs in a local style, transitional between Romanesque and Gothic and known as the ‘School of the West.’ The castle appears to have been abandoned in the 16th century and old photographs show it as a roofless ruin. However, in 1991, the Office of Public Works initiated restoration work on the site and it is now open to visitors during the spring and summer periods.


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Easily Overlooked



Some distance to the east of the main site at Clonmacnoise, County Offaly, and easily (although unwisely) overlooked, are the remains of the Nuns’ Church. This little building was built in 1167 under the patronage of Dearbhfhorghaill, wife of Tighearnan O’Rourke, King of Breifne. Famously, 15 years earlier, she had eloped with/been abducted by Dermot MacMurrough Kavanagh, an incident often deemed to have precipitated the Norman invasion of Ireland. The church later fell into disrepair, but both the entrance doorway and the chancel arch were reconstructed in the mid-19th century and are now outstanding examples of Hiberno-Romanesque design, both replete with geometric designs, along with human and animal forms on the chancel capitals. 



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A Site Lonely and Desolate


‘Adjacent to a branch of “the Bog” are the interesting ruins of Clonmacnois, the school where, according to Dr O’Conor, “the nobility of Connaught had their children educated, and which was therefore called Cluain-mac-nois, the secluded recess of the sons of nobles.” It was also, in ancient times, a famous cemetery of the Irish kings, and for many centuries it has continued a favourite burial-place, the popular belief enduring to this day, that all persons interred here pass immediately from earth to heaven. The abbey is said to have been founded by St. Kieran around the middle of the sixth century, and soon became “amazingly enriched”, so that, writes Mr Archdall, “its landed property was so great, and the number of cells and monasteries subjected to it so numerous, that almost half of Ireland was said to be within the bounds of Clonmacnois.” The ruins retain marks of exceeding splendour. In the immediate vicinity there are two “Round Towers”.’
From Ireland: Its Scenery, Character, &, by Mr & Mrs S.C. Hall, Vol. 2 (1842) 






‘We now pass the Grand Canal, and at Shannon Bridge see, on the right, the celebrated ruins of Clonmacnoise, the most recent description of which is given by Dr. Rodenburg, as follows: “Close to the shore stands Clonmacnoise, one of the most remarkable ruins in this island of the saints. The banks rise here slightly, and on the grass-clad mound stand two round towers, ruins of churches and a cemetery. On the first hillock are the sunken walls of an old ecclesiastical building; on another hill is the great round tower. The roof has disappeared, and a broad belt of ivy winds like a garland round its centre. Down in the bottom, rather further inland, is the second round tower, still perfect, and behind it, M’Dermott’s Church with its splendid round arched portal, fresh as if carved but yesterday. From the mound of the great round tower to the second the ground is covered with upright gravestones, among which stands a ruin, St Kieran’s Church, where the saint himself is said to be buried. The wonder of Clonmacnoise is St Kieran’s Stone, a cross of rare beauty, covered with sacred images. A wall surrounds the holy spot, which is to this day the scene of many pilgrimages and processions”.’
From How to Spend a Month in Ireland, and What it Will Cost by Sir Cusack Patrick Roney (1861) 






‘Like most of these sites, Clonmacnoise occupies a site lonely and desolate, significant of that spirit of asceticism which was wont to exclude the world and repel its busy life. The loneliness of Glendalough is that of the secluded valley; that of Clonmacnoise of the desolate flat in the midst of a wild moorland country, over which the Bog of Allen stretches its almost interminable waste. “If ever,” says Otway, “there was a picture of grim, hideous repose, it is the flow of the Shannon from Athlone to Clonmacnoise.” Round a swampy flat of meadow the river winds in an amphitheatre, upon the southern curve of which the seven churches are erected. To obtain the best view of the group, one should ascend the green hill which rises at the northern extremity like an oasis in the desert. From this he will see the churches, the two round towers, the overhanging bastions of the old castle of O’Melaghlin, all rising, ruinous and desolate, as if out of the brown bog that stretches away southward…In the extensive churchyard most of the churches are situated, and the intervening spaces are crowded with tombs and graves ancient and modern – for it is still a favourite place of burial with the people – with inscriptions in the oldest form or Irish characters to the modern Roman and Italian letters. But perhaps the most remarkable and interesting objects are the numerous antique crosses, some of the most exquisite workmanship and richly carved with scriptural subjects.’
From Picturesque Europe: A Delineation by Pen and Pencil, by Bayard Taylor, Vol. 1 (1875)  


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