Category Archives: Ruins

An Antiquarian’s Delight


The O’Dwyer family claimed descent from Milesius of Spain who, according to legend, conquered Ireland for the Gaels (hence the term ‘Milesians’ to describe the Irish race). By the late Middle Ages, the O’Dwyers had settled in the Barony of Kilnamanagh, Co. Tipperary, where their primary base was Dundrum, some eight miles to the west of Cashel. In this area, they constructed a number of castles, not least one at Dundrum, later replaced by a house constructed in the 18th century for the Maude family. Not far away, in the 16th century the O’Dwyers built another large castle at Killenure, which remained an important base for them until the Confederate Wars and their aftermath. According to the Civil Survey of 1654, the site had until then been occupied by ‘Charles O’Dwyer of Cullynuer Irish Papist.’ As for the property, it was described as ‘one demolished castle irreparable and one thatched house.’ Like many other such families, in the course of the Cromwellian settlement, the O’Dwyers were dispossessed of their lands, which in this case subsequently passed into the ownership of a branch of the Coppingers, who have featured here before (see Holding Court « The Irish Aesthete). They must have been responsible for adding a small residence to the east of the castle, using this as a shooting lodge. However, in 1746, the Coppingers sold Killenure to William George Cooper. 






The first of Killenure’s new owners to arrive in Ireland was Austin Cooper, originally from Surrey where he inherited property, but having sold it for some £1.500 around 1661, he moved to this country and settled in County Wicklow where he became responsible for the gardens around the house at Blessington built by Michael Boyle, future Archbishop of Armagh. There Cooper was responsible for creating one of the finest baroque gardens in Ireland, its greenhouse was one of the first places in the country where fruit was grown out of season. He became renowned for his feats of strength, such as taking two men, one in each hand, slapping them together and throwing them on a dunghill. Seemingly, if he held onto a cart, the horse pulling it could not move. It was his great-grandson, William, who moved to Killenure, having been appointed Diocesan Registrar of Cashel by Archbishop Arthur Price. Cooper and his wife Jane Wayland would have 14 children, their eldest son Samuel acting as land agent for his neighbours, the Maudes of Dundrum, whose estate management was much admired by Arthur Young when he visited in 1776. One of Samuel Cooper’s younger brothers was Austin Cooper who despite a life working in the Irish Treasury Office in Dublin is today remembered as an ardent antiquarian who measured, described and drew historic monuments, predominantly castles and churches, throughout the country. All this material was donated by the family to the National Library of Ireland in 1993: one of his pictures shows Killenure Castle, as it then looked. 






As can be seen here, Killenure Castle is very much a building in two parts, with a large house built to one side of the old O’Dwyer property. As it exists now, the two-storey house is L-shaped, and dates from two periods, the original five-bay pedimented block c.1770 and what is now the entrance front of four bays added c.1800. Adjoining this to the west stand the substantial remains of the original building, which is a curious blend of an old-fashioned defensive castle and an Elizabethan manor house, with a gable-fronted facade, mullioned windows and tall chimney stacks. Another distinctive feature is that it has a circular defensive tower at each of the four corners. One of these towers has later, larger window openings with brick surrounds, indicating this section was in use relatively recently but otherwise the castle seems little altered since first constructed, although nothing of substance remains inside. The Coopers remained at Killenure until 1963 when the estate was sold and the family moved to England. Happily,after a period when it appears the future of the property was in doubt, almost 20 years ago, it was bought by a family and has remained well cared for ever since.


The Irish Aesthete is generously supported by

Norman Wisdom


Nine years ago, Wexford County Council opened the first phase of ‘The Norman Way’, a 65-kilometer self-guided heritage trail along the south-east coast, which leads to a variety of mediaeval buildings in diverse stages of repair. According to the website promoting this route, while the Normans invaded England in 1066, ‘a century later they came to Ireland,’ thereby suggesting that their arrival in this country was an altogether peaceable affair. Furthermore, apparently, ‘as generations of Normans made their home here, their Norman way of doing things enhanced everyday life in Ireland.’ It’s open to question whether the native Irish were delighted to welcome the arrival of Norman wisdom. As Tony Canavan of History Ireland has observed, ‘from a historian’s point of view, on the trail’s website and information panels, ‘the presentation of the Normans (setting aside questions of definition) may raise an eyebrow’ since they are portrayed not as invaders but as though they were modern-day immigrants. It is easy to understand the appeal of creating such a route – the official site expresses hope that this initiative will stimulate commercial and community benefits in the areas through which it runs – but this ought not to be at the expense of historical accuracy. 





Although of Norman origin and hard to miss as it rises above the flat Wexford countryside, Ballyteige Castle is not one of the sites included in The Norman Way. For several hundred years, this was one of the seats of the Anglo-Norman Whitty family, with references to its members being found in Irish documents from 1247 onwards; in 1418 Robert Whitty of Ballyteige became Bishop of Ferns, an office he held for the next 40 years. The original castle is said to have been burned by Art Mac Murrough Kavanagh in 1408, so what can be seen today – a four-storey tower house – was constructed after that date. What makes the site particularly fascinating, and important, is that so much remains, including much of the bawn wall and two large circular towers at the north-east and north-west. Attached to the tower house and running along the east side is a later house, now abandoned and boarded up, and behind this is what would have been a substantial courtyard enclosed by the western wall. It is known that the Whittys remained in occupation of Ballyteige until the mid-1650s when, like so many other Roman Catholics, Richard Whitty had the property taken from him. Ballyteige was then granted to the Colcloughs of nearby Tintern Abbey (see The Little Sister « The Irish Aesthete) and it was later sold to an Edward Meadows. It appears to have been occupied until relatively recently, but is now abandoned and falling into dereliction. 





Some two miles north-east of Ballyteige Castle can be found a cemetery surrounding what remains of a mediaeval church called Grange, thereby suggesting it was once part of a monastic estate. On the church’s interior north wall is a large and well-preserved monument to Walter Whitty of Ballyteige. In April 1594 he had been kidnapped by Spanish sailors whose vessel was then passing along the Wexford coast, and carried back to their country after they declined payment for his release, declaring that ‘they desired more the credit in Spain of having taken a great gentleman prisoner, than any ever so great ransom.’ (cited in Journal of the Waterford & South-East of Ireland Archaeological Society, Vol IV, 1898). Somehow, Walter Whitty managed to find his way back home and spend the rest of his days at Ballyteige where he died in 1630, but the marble monument inside the church dates from 1647. The Whitty coat of arms features a lion rampant, but locals, perhaps unfamiliar with these animals, preferred to believe it was a cat. This, in turn, gave rise to a legend that a feline murderer was responsible for Whitty’s demise. There seem to be two versions of the story. In one, Walter Whitty, having failed to shoot any rabbits while hunting, took out his wrath on a cat he saw sitting on a sandbank. When he returned home to Ballyteige Castle, a cat on the premises took its revenge by lunging at his throat and killing him. In the other version, Whitty seduced the daughter of a local witch and then, having taken her out to see in a boat, drowned the girl. Hearing of this, the witch transformed herself into a cat, lunged at Whitty’s throat and killed him. Strangely, neither account features in the Norman Way literature. Neither does Ballyteige Castle, which could benefit from official attention as a building that holds evidence of human habitation across many centuries, from the Normans to the present day. 

The Irish Aesthete is generously supported by

A Very Superior Style of Sculpture and Architecture


‘Abbey of Sligo: A monastery was founded in this town A.D. 1253 by Maurice Fitz Gerald, then Lord Justice, under the invocation of the Holy Cross, for friars of the Order of St. Dominick. It is seated pleasantly, on the river Gitley, and near the sea.
In 1270, 1360, and 1394, the town was destroyed by contending factions, and the monastery pillaged; and in 1414 there were but 20 Friars resident in it. The next year the whole pile was consumed by fire. This misfortune being represented to Pope John XXIII, then present at the Council of Constance, he issued the following Apostolic letters:’ 






‘ “John, bishop, servant of the servants of God, to all Christian believers, who shall see these present letters, salvation and apostolic blessing.
It having been represented unto us, that the church and house of the Dominicans at Sligo, in the diocese of Elphin, in which it is affirmed twenty brothers have long devoutly served God, were lately burnt by fire, and that the prior and some of the brethren of the order desire to repair said church and house, a work of considerable expense, the means to defray which they do not possess. We, consulting the honour of said church, and willing that it should be repaired, that the faithful may resort thither more freely for devotion, and be desirous to contribute more liberally towards its repairs when they shall find themselves replenished with celestial gifts: relying, as we do on the mercy of the Omnipotent God, and by the authority of his blessed apostles, Peter and Paul, do compassionately relax ten years, and as many forty days of penance (decem annos et totidem quadragenas) enjoined on all penitents and those who have confessed, on the feasts of the assumption of the blessed Virgin Mary and St. Patrick shall devoutly visit the aforesaid church, and contribute to its repairs.
Our will is, that if there is any indulgence, either for ever or for a certain time, granted by us, to those who shall visit and assist in repairing said church and house, that it shall from henceforth be null and void. Dated at Constance, the 16th of the Calends of February, in the 5th Year of our Pontificate, A.D. 1415”.’






‘The present building was now begun in a very superior style of sculpture and architecture. Among its principal benefactors were O’Conor, Lord of Sligo, and Peirce O’Timony, a man of considerable wealth and property, whose statue was placed in the cloister. There are two large chapels, divided by a square belfry: the tower is entire, except the battlements at the top. The arches are lofty, and enriched with foliage and angels. The three sides of the cloisters are covered by an arched roof. The front and sides of the altar are ornamented with Gothic arches, foliage, and tracery, and there are pedestals for statues. The eastern window is very beautiful, and a stone gallery surrounds the nave. Several feet from the ground is the tomb of O’Conor and his lady, kneeling on each side of an altar. The Gothic arches, fluted pillars, and multiplicity of minute and curious ornaments, make us wonder at the high degree to which the arts of sculpture and architecture were now carried, and particularly how much money could be procured for the accomplishment of such a work in a country torn by rebellion and domestic dissension, as was the case with Ireland at this time… An inquisition, on the 27th of Elizabeth, finds this monastery had a church, a steeple, cemetery, and two other stone buildings, a fishing weir, with some parcels of land.’ 


From The Antiquities of Ireland by Francis Grose, Vol. I (London, 1791)
The Irish Aesthete is generously supported by

Castle Hackett


Castle Hackett, County Galway dates back to the 13th century when, as the name indicates, it was built by the Anglo-Norman Hacketts who had arrived in the country during the previous century and mostly settled in the south-east (for example, in County Carlow, where the settlement of Hacketstown testifies to their presence). By the 15th century, the castle had passed into the possession of the Kirwan family, one of the 14 Tribes of Galway and the only one to be considered of Gaelic origin. They continued to occupy the building until the early 18th century when a new house, also called Castle Hackett, was constructed nearby: this was burnt by anti-Treaty forces in 1923 but subsequently rebuilt. As for the old castle, still surrounded by portions of a bawn wall, it makes for a striking ruin on the landscape.


The Irish Aesthete is generously supported by

Playing Peekaboo




After Monday’s post about Ardfinnan Castle, here are the remains of a religious house found a little to the south on the other side of the river Suir. This is known as Lady’s Abbey, a Carmelite friary dating from the early 14th century and most likely closed down just over 200 years later during the Dissolution of the Monasteries. Little survives other than the walls of the church which has a nave separated by a central tower from the chancel concluding in a two-light east window. A south transept also contains a window, the jambs of which feature a carved head, one of a bearded man, the other looking distinctly unhappy, perhaps because he and his companion are now almost lost in the dense ivy that covers so much of the building.




The Irish Aesthete is generously supported by

A Sadder Sight than One would Think



‘It was a sadder sight than one would think,
To see that ruined church upon the hill,
Deserted, dreary, lone and desolate;
But then its spire would point to heaven still.
Like standard-bearer wounded in the fight,
Who, with his last remaining strength, upholds
His nation’s banner; so this dying church,
In its last hours, seemed bent on saving souls.

‘Twas sad to see the windows broken through;
But then they let God’s air and sunshine in:
The church, once closed to keep all errors out,
Now seemed as if it prayed more light to win.
And early spring-birds entered fearless there,
Within the church-pale unconverted came,
And built their nests within the pulpit’s shade,
And never dreamed there could be any blame…’





‘I wondered if the ancient fathers slept
In peace, within the churchyard just away,
While this, their pride, their consecrated dome,
So all unheeded crumbled to decay;
And more, if creeds escape while churches fall,
If they’ve no broken doors and windows, too,
By time’s or progress’ hand,—through which the light
Of higher truths comes brightly streaming through.

I climbed with fear the staircase weak and old,
That tottered like a ship by tempest driven,
And wondered if the saints had feared as much,
When through its creed they groped their way to heaven;
And stood within the galleries that ran
From end to end, and bent and gazed below
With heart that trembled like the saints of old,
Lest all should crumble, and I “sink to woe.”…’





‘And, as I gazed, and thought how sad that now
No feet of worshippers its old aisles trod,—
Alike forsaken by its builder, man,
And him to whom they gave, its owner, God;
I heard the voice of children in their mirth,
A group of little faces gathered there,
All unbaptized, some fresh from God’s own hand,
Who played and sported where they knelt in prayer.

I lingered till the human angels passed,—
Until the sun was growing faint and dim,
When, soft and sweet, amid the, stillness there,
The birds—Heaven’s choir—began their vesper hymn;
And while I listened to their “Te Deum,”
That made the ruin with its echo ring,
I said, “Not half so sweet the anthems loud,
That many souls in dim cathedrals sing!”‘



Extracts from The Ruined Church by Achsa Sprague (published posthumously, 1864)
Photographs show the ruins of Coolaghflags church, County Kilkenny, a late mediaeval chapel which was enlarged c.1750.

The Irish Aesthete is generously supported by

A Memorial



The remains of a late medieval church at Templecross, County Westmeath. The building was once part of the adjacent Tristernagh Abbey estate, granted by Elizabeth I to the soldier William Piers as a reward for his efforts to clear the Scots from Ulster. Tristernagh was then inherited by his son Henry, who despite marrying a daughter of Thomas Jones, Archbishop of Dublin, seemingly converted to Roman Catholicism in his late 20s. The south wall of the church features a large stone memorial tablet to Henry Piers who died in 1623 (although the tablet itself carries the date 1620). 



The Irish Aesthete is generously supported by

Handy for Methodists




A number of derelict outbuildings are all that now remain to indicate the former Coolalough estate in County Westmeath. In the mid-18th century, this property was owned by Samuel Handy who, after being introduced to the Wesleys, became a fervent advocate of Methodism, so much so that he named his son Samuel Wesley Handy. When in Ireland John Wesley regularly came here to stay and proselytise. On late July 1752, for example, he left Dublin and, after preaching in five places en route, arrived at Coolalough, ‘where he met many of his friends from all parts. This was probably the beginning of the quarterly meetings, which were held here for many years, to which the Methodists resorted from far and near. An abundant provision was made by Mr. Handy for their entertainment, and they were generally seasons of great spiritual enjoyment.’ Of the Handys’ house, there now appears to be no trace.




The Irish Aesthete is generously supported by

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

The Irish Aesthete is generously supported by

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.

The Irish Aesthete is generously supported by