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- Herausgeber: The O'Brien Press
- Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
A fascinating history of an ancient place. From its first mention in legend in the Book of Invasions, through early Christian monastic settlements, castles and grand residences, Fenian raids and the Battle of Tallaght, there has been huge change in Tallaght. In more recent times it has seen car and motorcycle racing, an aerodrome, the rise and fall of a chocolate factory and a pioneering telecommunications firm. The massive population explosion and rapid modernisation towards the end of the twentieth century means this once-tiny village in Dublin's foothills is now home to over 80,000 people. Richly illustrated with period photographs and original drawings by Michael O'Brien, Albert Perris tells the often-surprising story of Tallaght.
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Dedication
For Noeleen
Albert Perris is a researcher, writer and blogger, and the founder and author of the acclaimed blog ‘A Ramble About Tallaght’. His articles there have to date received a quarter of a million hits. This is his second book relating to Tallaght. The first, Since Adam Was a Boy: An Oral Folk History of Tallaght, was published by TWS in 1999. Albert was born and lived in Tallaght for over 25 years.
He is happily married and now lives in County Kildare with his wife and their four children, his dog and their cat.
He remains active in the community and voluntary sector in Tallaght and South Dublin, and is a regular guest speaker at events and contributor to discussions there.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Amen. Sanus sit qui scripsit et cui scriptum est. Amen.
Amen. May he who has written and the one for whom it has been written be healthy. Amen.
From the Stowe Missal, probably, almost certainly, written in Tallaght in the ninth century!
I am particularly indebted to Isabel Kiernan Whelan; Niall Callery, Brendan Cullen, College Historian, Clongowes Wood College; Tomas Maher of Tallaght Historical Society; Father Donagh O’Shea OP of St Joseph’s Retreat Centre, Tallaght village; Sharlene Ní Cinnéide, keeper of the graves in St Maelruain’s Graveyard; Rosaleen Dwyer, Heritage Officer, South Dublin County Council; David Power and all the staff of South Dublin Libraries; John O’Neill, Castletymon Library; Michael Whelan, Irish Air Corp & Military Archives; Father Hugh Fenning OP (RIP); Liz Kennedy, TCC; Jeremy Harte, Curator, Bourne Hall Museum, Surrey, UK; ‘Meath History Hub with Noel French’, for information on the Fowler Family; Dr Lars B Nooij, PhD, Department of Early Irish Studies, Maynooth University; Rachel Smyth; Pete Smyth; Mairead Flanagan and the Flanagan Family; John Mullen; Brian MacCormaic and Paddy Cummins.
A particular thanks to John P DuLong, for sharing through private correspondence material from the Palmer family papers, relating to Tallaght House and Major Palmer’s financial affairs and military services, from which I have liberally drawn. I am immensely grateful and appreciative of his generosity of spirit and assistance.
Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland (RCSI); National Archives; National Museum of Ireland; the National Library of Ireland; Tallaght Historical Society; South Dublin Libraries, for permission to reproduce selected images; Royal Irish Academy; Bourne Museum, Ewell, Surrey, UK;
Michael O’Brien for his vision and faith and all at O’Brien Press for their patience and pragmatism.
Preface
The little green prefabricated library on the Greenhills Road, close to where the old Tallaght Courthouse once stood, was a short-lived but important institution in Tallaght in the early 1980s. Important for me anyway. It was presided over by an ageing lady librarian with a stern face that probably belied a more gentle nature. I was ten years old. She was, perhaps, fifty. But she was aging. Of that I am now more certain than ever. As it transpires, we both were.
The gentle waft of plug tobacco, Sweet Virginia, drifting from the pipe in her hand, mingled with the smell of books and dust and sodden anoraks draped on the back of children’s chairs pushed against electric storage heaters. Rainwater from the anorak sleeves dripped upon the floor. She rummaged through the little library tickets – green for children, royal blue for ‘seniors’. She watched over her glasses – ‘Sssh! No talking! No gum!’
She looked like the right person to ask! I held my frayed, rain-damp and crumpled green ticket in my hand. ‘Can I help you, young man?’ she whispered. ‘I want to know how to cut a woman in half,’ I whispered back. She gave me a stare, her eyes magnified behind her thin rimmed spectacles, suggesting she had been doing it herself for years. ‘I want to do magic tricks.’ At that moment I wanted to disappear. ‘Like Harry Houdini,’ I continued.
She briskly walked from behind the counter and took eight or ten steps that brought her, and me, halfway across the little library. ‘There you go – bottom shelf. B for Bongo, Ali; C for Card Tricks; D for Daniels, Paul; H for Houdini, Harry.’
All I learned from the books in Tallaght Library that day was how to cut a deck of cards in half. I was crestfallen. I quickly tired of magic tricks when I came to the premature conclusion that there was no such thing as real magic. But I grew to love that little library.
Some years later, I was allowed to get a royal blue card, like my mother’s – a senior card. Around this time, I picked up a brown and tattered paperback book covered in clear plastic. Within its pages were the memories of a very old man – memories of Tallaght; memories of Killinarden. The man in the book was nearly a hundred years old, and he had died 40 years earlier. Memories of Tallaght 140 years ago! When you are fourteen years old, 140 years is a very long time indeed, ten lifetimes ago.
The old man told stories of fellas getting hanged on the banks of the Dodder, of the Battle of Tallaght in 1867, of cock-fighting and of body snatchers – the ‘sack-em-ups’ – in the local graveyard. I knew, intimately, the banks of the Dodder. I knew Tallaght village. I knew my way around the graveyards. Reading that book transported me back in time.
Malachi Horan Remembers by Dr George Little has become something of a classic in Irish oral history. Nobody could have predicted it. Malachi, a very elderly small farmer from atop Killinarden Hill – poorly educated, untraveled, his sight failing – had something to say, which, as it turned out, thousands of people wanted to hear. Or read. At fourteen years old, I was one of them. Without even trying, I had discovered time travel.
Dr George Little was a poor historian. He lacked qualification, competence and experience to write a ‘history’ book. The book should have been a dust collector, but it ran to numerous editions. Its first edition is now a collector’s item. It was a local history book, that appealed to many who had never even visited the locality. It was a book about life, related in lore and set in a community not dissimilar to many, indeed most, in Ireland. I have read it a dozen times. I have visited the headstones of some of the characters remembered by Malachi Horan. And I have paid my respects at his. The mortal remains of old Spooner of Killinarden Hill lie at peace in Tallaght Churchyard at St Maelruain’s. If all dogs go to heaven, Spooner’s old dog may have joined him there.
A Ramble About Tallaght, I hope, will inhabit the same space as Malachi Horan Remembers. It may take its place in the modest canon of local history of Tallaght publications. This is not an academic history, nor is it intended to be. I have studiously avoided the inclusion of footnotes and references, for fear that the presentation of such might lull the reader into a false sense of academia. This book is for the inquisitive citizen of Tallaght, interested in Tallaght and its people in times gone by.
In a sense, all of this work is of course based on the work of others. Sometimes that ‘work’ was a simple newspaper article from 1867. I have not evaluated the credibility, reliability, objectivity or veracity of sources. Indeed, in researching this book, I have often stumbled across inconsistency, apparent error or indeed politically biased accounts or reportage. But this book is for the layperson, not the academic, the scholar or the historian.
Between 1965 and 1975, the community of Tallaght experienced unprecedented development. But the following two decades was to be utterly transformative. Few places in Ireland, at that time, had undergone such a transition.
Born in Tallaght in 1972, my own development seemed to reflect the growing pains of the community I was born into. Innocence and potential was for a time eroded by cynicism and stasis. But fifty years on, as maturity approaches, it is time for reflection, time to take stock. What has made Tallaght what it is? Where did it come from? And what went before?
This book will have fulfilled its intended function if it finds its place on the bedside locker of a young Tallaght citizen and instils a sense of wonder, a sense of timelessness and a sense of place – when they look out at Tallaght Hill or Mount Pelia or Mount Seskin and know with confidence, that I am of Tallaght.
Albert Perris, 7 July 2023
Malachi Horan’s cottage in Killinardan.
Tallaght and the surrounding area, from Taylor’s map of the environs of Dublin, 1816.
Chapter 1
Genesis – Tallaght in Pre-History
In the Beginning – Tamhleacht Muintire Parthalon
Parthalon came, Parthalon died and his people were buried in Tallaght.
The myth of Parthalon, a foundation story of both Tallaght and Ireland, tells us that in Anno Mundi 2242 (2242 years after creation) a prince was banished from his father’s kingdom in Greece, after attempting to overthrow his rule. He and his followers set sail and wound up in Ireland, in Ballyshannon of all places. Later his descendants settle on Moy-Ealta-Edar, ‘the plain of the bird flocks of Edar (Howth)’.
Three hundred years after his arrival, the descendants of Parthalon and his people were wiped out by a great plague. In one week, all 9000 Parthalonians – 5000 men and 4000 women – died. They were buried in prominently marked graves in the hills around Tallaght or ‘Tamh-Leacht’ (Tamh is an epidemic pestilence and Leacht a plague monument).
The story of Parthalon has come to us from the Lebor Laignech (The Book of Leinster, c.1160) and the Annála na gCeithre Máistrí (the Annals of the Four Masters, compiled between 1632 and 1636 in the Franciscan friary in Donegal Town).
Drawing of a small cist found on Tallaght Hill.
The story of a prince attempting to displace his father, the King, and failing and fleeing, later to establish his own colony elsewhere, is not a unique one. That this new colony should then be wiped out by a plague or a pestilence – that it fails due to the wrath of nature or of the gods – is an appropriate and just end to this morality tale. Nothing great or enduring ever came from a son betraying his father, of one generation betraying the previous. In the myth or legend of Parthalon, we find the earliest story of Tallaght and the earliest story of Ireland entwined.
The story is also entwined with the Old Testament, starting as it does ‘after the deluge’, the great biblical cataclysm that set Noah’s Ark on its voyage. Parthalon, we are told, arrived in Ireland 287 years after the biblical flood. As late as the ninteenth century, Irish scholars were debating the genealogy of Parthalon, descended as he must have been from Noah – the great man himself!
If nothing else, this detail helps us estimate an earliest date for the mythology of Parthalon, and to recognise that the tale was set within the Judaeo-Christian narrative. The ‘Parthalonians’, we are told, were among the first people to colonise Ireland ‘after the Flood’. This must have seemed eminently sensible to the earliest generations of Christians in Ireland, explaining how people came to be in Ireland in the first place, and firmly placing Ireland and Tallaght in the biblical chronology of the Christian world. No doubt the story of the Parthalonians also helped Tallaght’s first Christians understand why the place seemed to be so generously littered with ancient features – enclosures, raths, barrows and cists, passage graves and portal tombs.
The story of the Parthalonians is perhaps best now interpreted as a poetic transmission of an account of the earliest people arriving in Ireland, and of their ultimate demise. They came from far away, they lived on the island of Ireland, and they died of a pestilence. They were buried in accordance with their own established tradition, leaving indelible impressions on the landscape around Tallaght.
Passage tombs, such as those in Tallaght, are the most common type of megalithic monument in Europe. However, unlike many of their European contemporaries who favoured inhumation and buried their dead in similar tombs, Tallaght’s earliest citizens were ordinarily cremated before their ashes were deposited, often in ornate vessels, in these cists and tombs.
Urns in Kiltalown
In June 1848, John Lentaigne of Tallaght House presented some curious finds to the Royal Irish Academy.
Peter Quin, a labourer on the lands of John Robinson of Kiltalown House, had been clearing furze near the top of the ridge of Tallaght Hill, close to the boundary of Killinarden. He was raking over the surface clay of a low mound when he found a quantity of broken stones, and under them a larger one. On trying to move the large stone with a crowbar, the thin slab broke into pieces, revealing a man-made chamber, a cavity or kiswain underneath. It was a small tomb, containing ancient skeletal remains and an urn, placed to the north of the remains. The urn was filled with a black sooty substance. Quin emptied the urn, not thinking its contents to be of any value. The black sooty substance drifted off in the gentle summer breeze.
Near the tomb, a number of other chambers were found, mostly empty and uncovered. All that remained in some were fragments of burnt bone. To the east of the kiswain, was discovered a great pit, about five foot deep with walled sides. It contained a great many fragments of burnt bone and ashes. It had clearly been used as a depository.
Another urn was found in the ground, close to the surface, very different in style to the one found in the tomb. The urns were decorated with zig-zag lines, likely made with a special tool or stamp. It was posited that the urns had been made on a wheel. One of the smaller urns contained broken fragments of a larger urn.
John Lentaigne was a noted collector and antiquarian, and recognised the importance of the finds. Local peasants or labourers would turn to him on occasion, presenting finds, no doubt hoping for a shilling or two in return for their ancient curios.
Fifty years after the find at Kiltalown, on the August bank holiday weekend of 1898, labourers were quarrying sand from a sandpit on Larry Dunne’s land at Greenhills, when they made a similar discovery. On working a face of the sandpit, they came upon a vertical stone slab. As they removed more sand, the slab fell away, revealing an enclosed chamber lined with stones, a cist containing three earthen vessels, pieces of broken pottery and what appeared to be fragments of bone.
Urns in a stone cist found in the Tallaght area.
It was not the first time such antiquities had been found at this site. A few years earlier, similar vessels had been found by labourers working the pit. One of the vessels, intact, had been claimed and retained by Larry Dunne, as it had been found on his land. The labourers sold the other fragments of broken vessels and a couple of flint scrapers to a Mr Halbert, a dealer on High Street in Dublin.
On that bank holiday Monday, the men removed the contents of the cist, placing the three earthen vessels in a nosebag filled with straw. They made a parcel of other fragments of broken vessels, and another containing fragments of bone. On the morning of Tuesday, 2 August 1898, they made their way into the Dublin Museum of Art and Science, to try to sell their wares.
More recent excavations, in 1978, turned up similar finds in Glassamucky. Two burials were found during the removal of topsoil from a quarry there. One was a pit burial, containing a cinerary urn inverted over a cremation. The second burial came from a cist. A weaver’s comb made of horn, believed to date from the Iron Age, was also found in this district. It is now in the National Museum.
In 1945, the family of the late Laurence Dunne of Greenhills gifted the intact prehistoric piece of pottery – a ‘beautiful food vessel’ – and several other pieces of ancient urns, found on his land, to the National Museum. The pieces date from the early Iron Age, and had been ‘a source of anxiety’ for the Museum for many decades.
Portal, passage, cist and wedge
Archaeological evidence of those who have lived and died in Tallaght dates back at least 5000 years. People have been burying their dead here since the Neolithic period.
In 1988, in Ballinascorney Upper, a Megalithic passage tomb, eight metres in diameter, was partially excavated. Two years earlier, parts of it had been displaced in the course of forestry work. The archaeologist Patrick Healy recorded that the ‘monument consists of an incomplete circle of boulders with a hollow in the centre in which are four disconnected stones. It was probably a tomb with a burial chamber or cist in the middle and a kerb of boulders retaining either a cairn of stones or a tumulus of soil’ (Archaeological Survey of Ireland). No finds were recovered during the excavation.
Stone circles, barrows, mounds, ring-ditches and cairns have all been found and recorded in the same neighbourhood.
Passage tombs have been found and recorded to the south of Tallaght at Montpelier Hill and Seahan Mountain, to the southwest at Knockanvinidee and to the west on Tallaght Hill and Saggart Hill. To the southeast in the distance, the Fairy Castle on Two Rock Mountain, a three-metre-high cairn measuring 27 metres in diameter, is believed to contain a Neolithic passage tomb. Portal tombs from the late Neolithic period have been recorded at Larch Hill and at Mount Venus (Rockbrook).
The prevalence of passage tombs across Europe has led to speculation that Irish passage tombs were a result of immigration or acculturation of people from overseas. Some of the oldest passage tombs in Europe can be found in Brittany, France, and they have similarities to those found in Ireland, in terms of structural design and artwork.
The remains of a wedge tomb, a comparatively rare type of megalithic tomb in the district, was discovered in Massy’s Wood in Killakee in 1978. It dates from between 2400 and 2000 BC. Only two other such tombs had been recorded within a 10km radius – the ‘giant’s grave’ at Ballyedmonduff (Glencullen), discovered around 1830; and Kilmashogue (within 3.3km of Killakee). Only one other wedge tomb is recorded within a 55km radius, that at Laughanstown. An excavation of the wedge tomb at Ballyedmonduff was undertaken by Rúaidhrí de Valera, son of Eamon, in the spring of 1945. Cremated human bone (a few pieces of rib and a lower molar tooth), a polished stone hammer, 27 flints and 150 pieces of pottery, some quite minute, were discovered.
In recent years, a long overdue and exciting archaeological appraisal of the tomb on Montpelier, at the Hell Fire Club, has been undertaken by Abarta Heritage. Artefacts dating to the Neolithic period have been discovered in the vicinity of the possible tombs on Montpelier Hill, indicating activity there from as early as 3500 BC. In 1986, Dr Stefan Bergh (now of University of Galway Archaeology Department) was visiting the Hell Fire Club when he found a chert scraper, a small prehistoric stone tool, approximately twenty metres northwest of the larger of the two tombs.
Evidence of ancient enclosures have been found in Killinarden, Whitestown, Ballymany and closer to Tallaght village, dating from various pre-Christian periods.
Under the tree at Spar
In 1973, a Middle-Bronze Age palstave axe was found at the rear of a house in Bancroft Estate, close to Tallaght village.
When the Village Green in Tallaght was being developed in 1990, due to its proximity to the ancient site of St Maelruain’s Monastery, an archaeological appraisal of the site was required. Investigations there revealed the remains of a ‘curving fosse’ or enclosure. Traces of an inner bank of 2.6 metres were revealed. Within the enclosure, traces of iron slag, charcoal and animal bones were found. Radiocarbon dating of one of the bones indicates that it was relatively recent – around 680–90 AD. It strongly suggests human habitation in the immediate vicinity of what is now Tallaght village, before the foundation of St Maelruain’s Monastery in 774 AD.
Taken together, the archaeological evidence suggests that for at least 3000 years before the Christian era, the lands at Tallaght were stomped by our ancestors. The town of Tallaght is situated within a prehistoric ritual landscape. All around it lie the remains of those who have lived here, and those who have died.
Tallaght in Celtic mythology
The neighbourhood of Tallaght features prominently in a number of critical texts of Irish mythology, most notably those relating to ‘The Destruction of Dá Derga’s Hostel’ from the Ulster Cycle and the story of Tír na nÓg from the Fenian or Ossianic Cycle that follows it.
It is to the valley of Glenasmole that Oisín, son of Fionn McCumhaill, returns from Tír na nÓg after 300 years. Here he met a group of men building a road, who appeal to him to lift a large flagstone. Oisín obliges and, succeeding in lifting the stone, his saddle-girth breaks and he falls from his horse. On touching the ground, he loses his youth, ageing at once to become a blind old man.
The association of Fionn McCumhaill with the area is perhaps reflected in local placenames, such as Ballymorefin Hill and Seafin.
The tale of ‘Togail Bruidne Dá Derga’ (The Destruction of Dá Derga’s Hostel) dates from at least the eleventh century, and describes Dá Derga’s Hostel as one of the great houses of hospitality in ancient Ireland.
In the story, the court of a first-century Irish King, Conaire Mór, is recorded as visiting the great house. The court included sixty nobility, visitors, hostages, twenty-seven British nobles in exile, nineteen Saxons, three Picts and three royal druids. The hostel is filled with jugglers and poets, judges of the first rank, nine harpers and pipe players, three jesters, three charioteers, nine apprentices, swine-herds and janitors.
Nine guardsmen composed the King’s military retinue, and were charged with the care of the hostages. The court included three cooks, drink-bearers, six cup-bearers, two table attendants and a steward.
It is generally accepted that the name Bohernabreena relates to the ‘road to Bruiden’. When Eugene O’ Curry of the Ordnance Survey visited the area in 1838 he found a number of connected mottes, mounds and cairns on ‘the brink of Maureen’s Brook’, the source of the River Dodder. They had neither been opened nor named. The location of the mottes coincided with the location, in lore, of Dá Derga’s Hostel. They are no longer visible.
While the academic assertion that Bother Na Breenam is the road to ‘Bruidhean Dá Derga’ has periodically been challenged, it has generally been accepted by those best qualified to contribute to the debate.
On 28 June 1788, fifty years before O’Curry visited the area for the Ordnance Survey and noted with interest the location of the moat at Maureen’s Brook, the following appeared in Faulkner’s Dublin Journal:
Last week some labourers belonging to Mr Dogherty of Glenasmole were cutting turf when one of them discovered a gold crown at about four feet deep. It is about seven inches in diameter and weighs eleven ounces. It is perhaps the crown of some provincial king, before the introduction of Christianity. There are several figures raised on it but no such thing as a cross.
No doubt there are still ancient riches buried in them there hills, waiting to shed further light on the legends of Fionn and Tír na nÓg, on Conaire Mór and perhaps even the Parthalonians.
Chapter 2
Christianity, Comets and Cholera
At twelve noon on 12 June in the year of our Lord 1832, Patrick McDonald was at work in a field, digging a ditch in Bohernabreena, when he saw five strangers approaching at a distance from across the hills. The five men were barefooted and each carried a bale or bundle of turf under his arm. One of the figures was a balding, grey-haired man. The other four were stout and bareheaded. They approached McDonald and informed him they had been sent by the Catholic priest in Kilbride and told to deliver ‘blessed turf’ to local residents to protect their homesteads.
McDonald was advised that a ‘comet’ had dropped from heaven and that the town of New Ross, Co. Wexford, had been destroyed. The six men solemnly prayed over the sods of turf, saying seven Paters, seven Marias, a Gloria Patria and the Apostles’ Creed. They instructed McDonald to burn a sod of the blessed turf on the threshold of his cabin (where he lived with his mother Nelly), and to make the sign of the cross with it on the door.
The men directed that once this was done, he should then take some turf and visit seven other houses within seven miles and request that those residents do the same thing. McDonald was asked to inform the residents he met of the urgency needed in protecting all homesteads in the district with the blessed turf.
Map of Tallaght, 1654, by Robert Newcomen.
McDonald did as he was advised. Having protected his own home, he dutifully set off in the direction of the city to distribute the holy turf, requesting each man he met to likewise visit seven houses. He met with five or six labourers, with whom he shared his turf and instructions, before he arrived at Roundtown (Terenure), where he was taken into custody by the police. He made a sworn statement the following day, 13 June 1832, detailing the above account. He noted that the unnamed five men from Kilbride, all having visited seven houses, had returned in a homeward direction.
While Pat McDonald had been listening attentively to the five strangers in his field in Bohernabreena, in Ballymore Eustace the greatest confusion was sown among the townsfolk as a consequence of people running through the town carrying seven pieces of turf. At each house, they left a piece, with directions to burn the bit of turf at the door and say some prayers.
In nearby Rathcoole, hundreds of country people were seen running in all directions with pieces of peat turf in their hands. According to the Chief Constable at Rathcoole, ‘the priests of every parish from Wexford to Tallaght were blamed as the originators of the report about the comet … but on being asked by respectable persons whether this was true, [they] denied [it], and said it was all nonsense, that the people were really mad’.
Early Christianity in Tallaght
By 1832, the people of Tallaght had been devoutly Christian for over 1000 years. By the middle of the eighth century, the Christians of Tallaght had already concluded that the Irish Christian Church was losing its way and in need of reform. They found themselves at the heart of a reform movement, the Céilí Dé or ‘Servants of God’. What became the monastery at Tallaght in the eighth century was by no means the first Christian centre in the district. Monastic foundations had been laid long before then, in Glenasmole by St Sanctán and in Kilnamanagh by St Eoghan. There may have been others.
Kilnamanagh – Cell manach Eascrach
Some 200 years before a monastery was established in Tallaght, early Christian monks established churches and abbeys in the area. In the first half of the sixth century, St Eoghan established one of the first such foundations – Cell manach Eascrach, or Kilnamanagh, a mile north of Tallaght.
St Eoghan (or St Eugene in Latin) is believed to have been born in Leinster. He was one of many young people, including Tiarnach of Clones and Cairbre of Coleraine, who were captured by pirates and brought to Britain. On gaining his freedom, he became a student at Candida Casa in Whithorn in Galloway, southern Scotland, founded by St Ninian. About 397, while the Roman legions still occupied Britain, St Ninian had established the first Christian mission north of Hadrian’s Wall. He erected a small stone church, the Candida Casa or ‘White House’, which was Scotland’s first Christian building. And this is where one of Tallaght’s earliest monks had his schooling.
On returning to Ireland, St Eoghan came to Tallaght and founded his monastery at Kilnamanagh. He spent about fifteen years here training young priests, several of whom would go on to be bishops. Among his students at Kilnamanagh was his nephew Caoimhín – later St Kevin, who would go on to found his own monastery at Glendalough, Co. Wicklow.
According to legend, Eoghan had a vision, a divine command, to travel north. He obeyed the command with great reluctance and against the wishes of his monks. It has been suggested, however, that he was invited north to the See of Ardstraw, Co. Tyrone, because of his reputation for learning and sanctity. He went to Ardstraw about 540 and established his second foundation, for which he is best remembered.
His foundation at Kilnamanagh continued to flourish after his departure. Saint Eoghan died on the evening of 23 August, while his monks were chanting their evening office. He is buried somewhere in Ardstraw graveyard.
Born about 498, Caoimhín had been baptised by Cronan of Clondalkin. Like his predecessors, there is a great deal of ambiguity and uncertainty about much of his life. His date of death is recorded as sometime between 618 and 622. Early Christian litanies suggest he lived for up to 120 years, perhaps more indicative of the veneration bestowed upon him by those who came after than his physical longevity.
What is more certain is his association with Kilnamanagh in Tallaght and Glendalough, Co. Wicklow. What is equally certain is that within 100 years of his death, the cult or veneration of Caoimhín had become established. In addition to the ‘Litany of Irish Saints’, he is invoked in the Stowe Missal. By the time monks came to establish a monastery at Tallaght, the reputation of St Kevin and his early formation under Eoghan at Kilnamanagh was already widely known. Relics of Caoimhín were taken on tour, along with those of Cronan of Clondalkin.
The foundation at Kilnamanagh likely endured for many hundreds of years, but given its proximity to Tallaght, its importance was perhaps overtaken by that of St Mael Ruain from the early ninth century. The monastery at Kilnamanagh may have been sacked by Vikings when they raided Tallaght in 811. The monastery at Tallaght was rebuilt and Kilnamanagh was later the site of a medieval church, a subsidiary church of Tallaght.
By the mid-thirteenth century, Kilnamanagh was occupied by Sir John de Caucer. It is mentioned in a list of Wax Rent dated 1256–66 as subject to a rent of 2lb of wax. In 1306, Rolph de Rathdowne released a portion of land in Kilnamanagh to John le Ken and his heirs. In 1366, Richard Gyfford recovered the Manor of Kilnamanagh and a castle was constructed here as part of the Pale embattlements, part of which would endure into the twentieth century.
Remnants of an old monastic site and medieval church at Kilnamanagh could still be seen in 1837, by which time they had been incorporated into what had, several hundred years earlier, become Kilnamanagh Castle. Adjoining the ancient church had been a burial ground, believed to have been used for many generations, though by the 1770s it had long been forgotten.
From 1778, Kilnamanagh was occupied by the Farrell Family. Jane Farrell, a daughter of the house, married Laurence Steen, a gentleman from Co. Meath, in 1880. About 1778, Mr Farrell attempted to make a vegetable garden at the site and he found the plot to be full of long-decayed human remains. Indeed for the next 150 years, ancient human remains would frequently be upturned close to what had once been Cell manach Eascrach. Human bones were found here in 1778, in 1886, in 1944 and again in 1956, when a concrete path was being laid, leaving little doubt that this was indeed an ancient burial ground.
Pilgrims and progress
In addition to human bones found in this neighbourhood before its development, large quantities of ancient oyster shells had also been unearthed. In 1960, an old tree close to Kilnamanagh Castle fell, revealing a great mass of shells underneath. Oyster shells were an important part of the early monk’s diet and indeed they have become a symbol of pilgrims travelling throughout Europe at that time. (In French, the scallop is called coquille Saint Jacques and in German Jakobsmuscheln, after St James.)
Later history of the site
In 1909, a young nephew of Mr and Mrs Steen, Ambrose Flood, found an old Irish pike head, seven inches by ten inches, in the ancient moat close to Kilnamanagh Castle. Their son Herbie inherited the property and lived there for some years. Herbie Steen’s wife Angela, better known as ‘Dolly’, a nurse from Thurles, died from pleurisy in 1929, at 32 years of age. They were only married a year and Herbie was left with a baby daughter. He married Mary Bowen in 1934, but she too died young, after only eleven years of marriage.
The small Castle at Kilnamanagh was still held by Herbie Steen in 1944. There had once been a doorway from the Castle into the old church. The door was cased with oak, thickly studded with iron nails with thick heads, about three quarters of an inch square. Herbie Steen presented the old studded door to the National Museum.
In September 1958, Steen put his 203-acre farm at Kilnamanagh Castle up for auction. Much of the land had been in his mother’s family since 1778. After disposing of Kilnamanagh Castle, he lived in ‘The Bungalow’ on the Greenhills Road. Herbie Steen died in August 1983, aged 91. It is a legacy from Herbie Steen that gifted the nation the last remaining remnants of a medieval church – Cell manach Eascrach, at Kilnamanagh.
In 1974, the land at Kilnamanagh was transformed into a modern residential housing scheme. In 1976, as winter gave way to spring, Kilnamanagh Castle was levelled by developers Brennan and McGowan, as the swinging scythe of unfettered development laid waste to Tallaght’s ancient past. The old monastic site of Cell manach Eascrach and its later castle were swept away in the name of progress.
Two hundred years after Mr Farrell had unearthed ancient human remains close to Kilnamanagh Castle, the land was still offering up the secrets of its past. In 1975, a Mr Moore, a newly arrived resident in the new Kilnamanagh Estate, was digging in his back garden when he happened upon a yeomanry sword dating from 1790, made by Reid’s of Parliament Street in Dublin – a testament to more recent history.
St Kevin’s Well is the last remaining feature to give an indication that this was once a most important ecclesiastical foundation. It was retained in the middle of a compact residential street by the developers. This was not out of respect for the history and heritage of the site, nor out of deference to the sacred burial ground. It was retained only because the site was waterlogged from numerous underground springs. What the developers had intended to be the sites of 37, 39, 41 and 43 Elmcastle Walk are still an open site. It is perhaps symbolic of the great void left in Tallaght by residential and commercial developers in the 1970s and since.
St Annes, Kilmesantan (variously Kylmesantan; Collmesantan; Kipcopsentan)
What is now well known as St Anne’s Church in Bohernabreena is named after an earlier church – a much earlier church, some remains of which can still be seen in Glenasmole, on an elevated site overlooking the Waterworks. Also locally referred to as St Anne’s for generations, the name was in fact an Anglicisation or corruption of ‘Sanctán’ or St Sanctán.
In the early sixth century, a church was founded here by Sanctán, Bishop and Abbot of Cill-easpuig-Sanctán, placing him around Tallaght some 200 years before St Mael Ruain and in the same period as St Eoghan and St Kevin in Kilnamanagh.
Sanctán was a Briton, born the son of two notable families, and indeed a brother and half-brother of other notable characters recorded in the history of these isles. According to the Martyrology of Tallaght, Bishop Sanctán was the son of Samuel Chendisel, ‘the Low-headed’, a King of Britain, and Drechura, a daughter of Muiredac Muinderg, ‘the Red Necked’, King of Ulster.
A brother of Sanctán, St Matoc Ailithir or ‘Matoc the Pilgrim’, came to Ireland first, and Sanctán may have followed his brother over. Sanctán, Matoc and Espoc Lethan, another brother, may have been closely connected with many of the Cambrian and Armorican (Breton) saints who came to Ireland in the late fifth and early sixth centuries. St Cybi of Holyhead may have been a half-brother.
Sanctán is included in the list of bishops in the Book of Leinster. His cult was later brought to the Isle of Man, where he is commemorated in the name of Santon Parish. Just as in Glenasmole, in the Parish of Santon on the Isle of Man, the name also erroneously morphed into ‘St Ann’. Their Parish history acknowledges both the saint and the Church of St Sanctán in Glenasmole:
Its Parish Church, which is dedicated to St Sanctain, who was an Irish saint and Bishop, and a disciple of St Patrick. Records show how the word ‘Sanctain’ has gone through different stages of spelling to arrive today at the more frequently used ‘Santon’. ‘Sanctain’ appears as ‘Sanctain’, ‘Santain’, ‘Santan’, and ‘Santon’. The latter two spellings are today recognised widely, but that of ‘Santon’, seems to have taken over and is the one that is more generally used … Sometime in the seventeenth century, in post-Reformation times, it would appear that St Sanctain’s connection with Santon had been forgotten, for at that time there took place an even further corruption, which was quite erroneous, when the dedication was mistakenly attributed to St Ann. How this occurred is lost in antiquity, but it is not difficult to appreciate the easy way in which Santan could be mistaken for St Ann, and vice versa … It is interesting to note that in addition to Santon Church at least one Irish church had its name similarly altered in error, for Kell Easpuig Sanctain, near Dublin, was changed to St Ann’s Chapel.
The church in Glenasmole endured, in one form or another, for close to 1000 years, from the early sixth century to the early 1600s. The Annals of the Four Masters, at 952, record the obit of ‘Caenchomraic, abbot of Cill Easpuig Sanctán’. In 1179, this church and its lands were a sub-manor of Tallaght and from 1216, formed part of the extensive church lands of the See of Dublin.
The church of Mo Sanctán or Cill Easpuig Sanctáin was granted in 1192 to St Patrick’s and in February 1207, John, Archbishop of Dublin, was granted permission by the King to build a deerpark and erect a deer leap here.
In 1547, in the taxation of the diocese of Dublin, it is called ‘Temple Sauntan’. Repairs to the chancel and a curate’s stipend were noted, suggesting the church was still, or again, in use. The church measured approximately 13.3m by 4.9m. It may have been in a nave-and-chancel form.
Remains of the medieval Church of St Sanctán, Glenasmole, 1988
The church fell into disrepair by the early 1600s. It had been succeeded by the somewhat larger and later church at Templeogue (16m by 4.13m), likely reflecting the lawless character of the hills and mountains above Tallaght during that period, when the O’Tooles and O’Byrne’s were at the height of their influence.
Máirín Ní Mharcaigh notes in ‘The Medieval Parish Churches of South-West County Dublin’:
Earlier generations, from Neolithic to Early Christian, preferred upland habitations … possibly for defensive reasons but mainly because they were engaged in a predominantly pastoral economy. With the advent of the Anglo-Normans, the farming economy of the area was transformed into an arable one, based on the lowland plains. The churches were located on the lower ground to serve the greater number of people and also to distance them from possible aggression from the Irish chieftains of the Wicklow Mountains.
By 1875, what had once been the medieval church, built from coarse granite believed to have been quarried from Corrig Mountain, was in a ruinous state. The poorly preserved remnants of the church remain on the site. A pre-Norman font and St Sanctán’s (or St Anne’s) Holy Well also remain, bearing witness to this truly ancient ecclesiastical foundation.
St Anne’s (St Sanctán’s) Graveyard, 1988.
The feast day of St Sanctán is 9 May. Local parishioners continue to celebrate mass in the graveyard in late July to mark the Feast of St Anne, rather than the Feast of St Sanctán. The local football team, St Anne’s, further perpetuates the corruption of the ancient name. The old graveyard on this site was in use until the 1950s, when concerns were expressed about water running off from the graveyard into the waterworks.
St Anne’s Roman Catholic Church, Bohernabreena.
In August 1868, the foundation stone for the new Church of St Anne’s on the Bohernabreena Road, Friarstown Upper, was laid. The Parish celebrated the 150th anniversary of the Church of St Anne in 2018. Rather curiously, according to the ‘Inventory of Architectural Heritage’, it was built in 1876. It was constructed on the site of an earlier chapel, dating from the penal times.
St Mael Ruain’s Monastery
Saint Mael Ruain founded a monastery in Tallaght about the year 774 AD. The lands may have been granted by Cellach mac Dunchadh, King of Leinster, as an offering ‘to God and St Michael and Mael Ruain in perpetual freedom’. Cellach is also understood to have been a major benefactor of Glendalough.
The old St Maelruain’s Church, some time before it was rebuilt in 1829.
Little is known of the early life of St Mael Ruain (Mael means ‘one who is tonsured’, i.e. ‘follower of’, and Ruan (Ruadan) was the Abbot at Lorrha). It is believed he was likely born in Lorrha, north Tipperary, about 720 and studied in the monastery there under Ruadan. Relations between the monasteries at Lorrha and Tallaght would endure for several centuries.
The standards of monastic life had, it was felt, slipped in the period since the time of Eoghan in Kilnamanagh and Sanctán in Glenasmole. Mael Ruain became a central figure, perhaps even the founder, of the monastic reform movement known as the Céilí Dé or Culdees (the ‘Servants of God’). He is credited as the author of the rule of the Céilí Dé, sometimes referred to as the Rule of Tallaght or the Rule of St Mael Ruain.
Austerity was a prevailing value in the monastery of Mael Ruain. Music was not allowed, save for the singing of office or vespers. The consumption of beer was strictly prohibited and a strict and modest diet, or pittance, was adhered too. The consumption of meat was a very rare privilege, and ordinarily only deer or wild swine was eaten on feast days or a portion may have been granted to a monk in poor health.
Mael Ruain was prevailed upon to allow his monks to consume beer, but only on long journeys or visits to other monasteries. (The monks of Tallaght maintained relationships with similar monasteries at Clonmacnoise, Terryglass, Lorrha and Iona.) He was reluctant to concede the principle, believing lust, sloth and other harmful inclinations were related to diet. Fasting and abstinence were encouraged to help regulate the body. In the years after Mael Ruain’s death, his teachings continued to be transmitted, one of which noted:
When at the end of a meal the body happens to be roused to lust, slightly or strongly, it was considered not amiss to cast that meal back upon the Lord in displeasure at him as if to say, ‘there, keep thy meal for thyself’, and believed that by this trial, will not often be made thereafter. Or else to subtract a part of a meal and to pray to God and repeat ‘Lead us not into temptation’ and Deus in adiutorium as far as festina.
Her pittance and her portion
The story of a monk’s sister, as related in Tallaght during Mael Ruain’s time (755–92) is instructive. The girl’s name was Copar.
Desire lay heavy upon the girl, for it is a third part as strong again in woman as in men. Then he [the monk] regulated her portion and her pittance for a year: that is, a measured pittance. On that day year she came to him and confessed that her desire still persisted. Now he was busy sewing before her. Then he thrust the needle thrice into her palm and three streams of blood flowed from her hand. ‘No wonder,’ said he, ‘If it is hard for the body, wherein are these strong currents, to contain itself.’ Then he diminished her meals a second time. She was on that ration for a year, and her desire still persisted. So after that time he thrust the needle into her palm thrice, and three streams of blood flowed from it. So he reduced her meals again for a year, and at the end of the time, he thrust the needle again into her hand. This time however, not a drop of blood came out of her. ‘In future,’ said he, ‘keep on this pittance until thy death.’
Individuality was a value not prized – everything was directed to the welfare of the community as a whole. A strict daily and weekly routine was maintained. Structure and routine were essential components of monastic life in Tallaght. Tonsuring, or head shaving, was ordinarily carried out on one Thursday a month. If, for whatever reason, it couldn’t be carried out, it could be done on the Friday or Saturday of that week. If not, however, the monk would have to wait until a month later. No monk could have his head shaved on a Sunday.
Fifty years after its establishment, by the early ninth century, the monastery at Tallaght was an important and influential monastic centre. Tallaght, together with Finglas, became known as one of the ‘two eyes of Ireland’.
St Mael Ruain died on 7 July 792. For almost 1100 years after, the annual Pattern of Tallaght was held on 7 July in his honour. (By the nineteenth century, the practice had descended into an annual occasion for drunkenness, revelry and debauchery, akin to the Donnybrook Fair. The Dominican Prior put an end to it in 1874.)
In 806, the Uí Néill – descendants of Niall, King of Ireland – plundered Tallaght, its sanctuary and termon lands. In response, the monks of Tallaght prevented the Taillteann Games from going ahead, pending compensation for the infringements of their rights and their material loss. The monks seized and retained their chariot horses on the eve of the Games, which were held annually at Taillteann, Co. Meath. Neither horse nor chariot were let run until the King of Ireland had made full reparation for injuries inflicted on the monastery. Áed mac Néill afterwards gave full compensation to ‘Tamhlacht’, together with many gifts.
Only five years later, in 811, the monastery was again plundered, this time being devastated by Vikings. With resilience, faith, fortitude and some degree of optimism, the monks of Tallaght rebuilt their monastery. It not only endured but prospered for another 300 years, until about 1125.
After the Anglo-Norman invasion in 1170 and following the Third Lateran Council in 1179, Tallaght became part of the See of Dublin. It was listed among the lands confirmed to Archbishop Laurence O’Toole by Pope Alexander III and became, throughout the Middle Ages, one of the most important ecclesiastical manors in County Dublin.
By the sixteenth century, it was the Archbishop’s principal residence outside the city (see Chapter 3). A medieval church was built on the ancient monastic site. The street pattern of this medieval borough was linear and appears to have consisted simply of a main street, which expanded at its west end to form the market place, where the road forked north past St Mael Ruain’s Church and south towards Oldbawn. The Archbishop’s Palace lay on the north side of the road and the long plots on the south side (now the Village Green and car park) are probably the remains of the medieval plot pattern.
A portion of John Rocque’s map of County Dublin from 1760, showing Tallaght village and the surrounding area.
Martyrology, poetry and prose
Three important manuscripts, or at least manuscripts which have become important, were produced in early monastic Tallaght: the Martyrology of Tallaght, the Martyrology of Óengus (or Félire Óengusso) and the Stowe Missal. The three remain subjects of rigorous academic interest and scrutiny.
The Martyrology of Tallaght
A ‘martyrology’ is a list of the days of the year on which saints have died. The Martyrology of Tallaght was most likely written between the years 797 and 833 in the Monastery at Tallaght. Written in prose, it contains two sections for each day of the year – one general and one for Irish saints.
The earliest reference we have to this manuscript is in the twelfth-century Martyrology of Gorman (Félire Uí Gormáin), written between 1166 and 1174 by Mael Muire Ua Gormáin, Abbot of Knock, Co. Louth, which attributes the Martyrology of Tallaght to Mael Ruain. More recent scholarly work, however, casts doubt on this and it is perhaps more appropriate to attribute the Martyrology to Mael Ruain’s Tallaght.
The Martyrology of Tallaght appears to have been a working document for what would come to be known as the Martyrology of Óengus, but itself became a holy relic, later venerated in Lorrha, Co. Tipperary. A prologue in the Martyrology of Tallaght describes the decline in pagan faith in Ireland and the rise of Christian monasticism in its place. It contains the following famous verse:
Senchatraig na ngente/iman roerud rudad/itfossa can adrad/amail Lathrach Lugdach.
Ind locáin rogabtha/dessib ocus trírib/it rúama co ndálib/co cétaib, co mílib.
which translates as:
The old cities of the pagans to which length of occupation has refused are deserts without worship like Lugaid’s House-site. The little monastic sites that were settled by twos and threes are Romes with multitudes, with thousands.
If the early Christian foundations in Glenasmole and Kilnamanagh had been settled by twos and threes 200 years earlier, the Monastery at Tallaght was, poetically at least, likely home to multitudes and was becoming part of a network of such foundations around the country.
A leading authority on the subject is Irish Celticist and prominent hagiologist Dr Pádraig Ó Riain. He favours a later date for the texts, and has proposed that the composition of the Martyrology of Tallaght and the Félire Óengusso was a response to a decision at the church council of Aachen in 817 that every monastery should have a martyrology from which the monks should read a list of the saints at the hour of Prime (the first hour of daylight). An example of such a martyrology, according to Dr Ó Riain, arrived in Tallaght around 828, and work was immediately commenced in Tallaght, resulting in the addition of local, Leinster and Irish saints to the litany.
The facts in relation to both documents, however, remain uncertain and obscure and will no doubt provoke many more years of diligent study. Both compositions are believed to have been the work of St Óengus, a monk and Bishop at Tallaght. Most now agree that St Mael Ruain himself had gone to his eternal rest before the works were commenced.
The Martyrology of Óengus
The Martyrology of Óengus is a more sophisticated literary rendering of the Martyrology of Tallaght
