Kilnamanagh

Kilnamanagh.

About a mile to the west of Tymon lies Killyman, or Kilnamanagh, where were the ruins of an old monastery. [The Monastery of Kilnamanagh, or Acadh Finnech, as it was also called, was founded in the sixth century, probably by Patrician missionaries. The most remarkable ecclesiastic connected with it was Bishop Eoghan, or St. Eugene, a patron of the Diocese of Derry. He was a kinsman of St. Kevin; and the latter, in his twelfth year, came to Kilnamanagh to study under him. Abbot Garbhan, the friend of St. Kevin, was of this monastery. It is often confounded with Kilnamanagh in Ossory. - See *Journal of the *R. H. *A. A. I. *for 1876, p. 89.] There were also remains of a church, and of a small square castle which stood at its western end. The castle was in good repair. A door leading from it into the church is now closed up, and the old oak door is in the kitchen of a house built against the castle. This door was studded with iron nails, with heads about three-quarters of an inch square. From an angle of the castle, a line of offices extends to the east. The back wall of these is built on the ruins of an old foundation, several parts of which may still be traced. It presents a very rude appearance. The stones are squared, and laid irregularly, without mortar. There are several pieces of porous grey stone scattered about the place, which the people called head-stones. There are many of these in an old burial-place close by, but which has not been used as such within the memory of man.

A Mr. Farrell took the place in 1778, and at that time there were here no marks of a burial-place. When he was converting this spot into a kitchen-garden, he found it so full of human bones that he desisted from the attempt. In 1830, when a son of Mr. Farrell lived here, one of his workmen was digging a hole, and before he went 14 inches deep he came on a nearly perfect skeleton, the bones of which were much decayed.

The site of another house may be traced in a southerly direction from the castle. The whole place was enclosed by a wide and deep fosse, the greater part of which is still open and full of water. It must have been a small fortified place formerly, when Belgard, Tallaght, and other castles round Dublin had to hold their own against the native Irish. The road from Kilnamanagh appears to be very ancient; it winds along to Belgard, where it joins that which leads from Tallaght to Clondalkin. Proceeding towards Tallaght along this road, we pass what formerly were the Commons of Tallaght, enclosed in 1829. Horse-races were frequently held on these grounds until about 20 years ago. I last attended them in 1859. On that occasion the stand-house fell, and injured numbers of people who were on it at the time.

The glebe-house of Tallaght was formerly reached by an avenue from this road, near where it joins the Tallaght road. Near here a turnpike existed for many years, but has long since disappeared.

Near Jobstown is Killinardan, where there were the remains of a small old church. A little further up the road is Kiltalown, the residence of the late J. Robinson, J.P., who built a handsome house here, in front of a very old one formerly owned by a Mr. Carpenter. The ruins of another church remained on these lands, until demolished in 1820 by Mr. Carpenter. He was a partner in the firm of Bolton, Humphreys, & Co., of Dublin.

Ben Bradley, father of the redoubtable Tom Bradley, also lived in this neighbourhood, at a place called Marlfield, near Kiltipper. He used to ride an old white horse, which was as well known as himself. This horse had a habit of coming to a dead stop when he chose, and no power would make him move. It was said that Ben Bradley, one night in a rage, shot this horse on the road, and afterwards wanted to persuade people that he was fired at, and that his horse was thus maliciously killed. He tried to levy the amount off the county, but was not successful. Another story is told of him that, getting into some mess about money, he assigned his property to his son Tom. He suffered a year’s imprisonment, and some not very flattering remarks were passed on his conduct by Chief Justice Bushe. When he got out, he asked Tom to return him his money, as he was now all safe. “Oh, no,” said Tom, “it is far better where it is.” Not a penny did the dutiful Tom restore to his parent.

Tom was as well known for many years in Dublin as Nelson’s Pillar. He dealt largely in money-lending and bill-discounting. There was a certain balk, or log of timber, which was always part of the value given by Tom to evade the usury laws. If a gentleman wanted £100, he would apply to Tom, who would cheerfully advance £80 or £90, with the log, on the receiving of an acceptance, well backed, for the £100. The log, being of inconvenient bulk, was never handed over; and “Tom Bradley’s log” became a proverb. He amassed a large fortune, and owned numbers of houses in Dublin and Kingstown. His purple face was to be seen at every race and place of amusement within 20 miles of Dublin. In fact, he was everywhere, and always ready to do a little business.

He was reputed a very good landlord, and fair in his dealings. Late in life he somehow got engaged to be married. Repenting ere long, he is reported to have offered the lady £1,000 to be off. She affectionately replied “It is not the money I want, but the man.” Poor Tom, accordingly, was married and done for. His residence was Ruby Hall, near Blackrock. Here he pined away, and died in a few years. He left an enormous fortune, designedly dying without a will. The lawyers had some nice pickings before his assets were distributed. His widow could have married again but her grief for her dear departed brought on a habit of taking stimulants, which some way perverted her judgment. She could not make up her mind to accept her second suitor at the time he asked her; and her untimely death put an end to his wooing.

About half a mile further, on the left-hand side of the road to Blessington, is Johnville, formerly the residence of Mr. Roe, who made a very pretty garden, which sloped down the hill. There is a stream through it, which was led into ponds, waterfalls, and fountains. Its banks were planted with evergreens. Mr. Roe lived here for many years. After his death the place went greatly to ruin, and was for a long time untenanted. A Dr. Luther took it about 1854, and laid out a considerable sum in repairs, and in erecting Turkish baths. He expected that he would have been a rival to Dr. Barter, of Blarney. He had douche, sitz, vapour, and all other kinds of baths and contrivances for boiling out all diseases. Somehow the place did not take, though its beauty, the fine mountain air, and its contiguity to the metropolis were all in its favour. So it was given up in a few years, and it has been going to ruin ever since.

The old road to Blessington passed close to this house. Up the hillside the ascent was very steep. Many a poor horse suffered in consequence until the new road was made. This winds for some distance through a very picturesque glen, at a great height above the stream. It then crosses a lofty bridge, or rather viaduct. [See Appendix F.] The glen is well planted, and was formerly kept in nice order by its owner, Mr. Verschoyle. There were walks all through it, and a curious passage under the bridge, on planks fitted to iron supports, a few feet above the roaring torrent; while a waterfall occurred just below the bridge.

At Brittas, a little beyond this, are two large ponds, formed by damming up the stream, which ensure a regular supply of water to the Saggard paper-mills. These ponds are celebrated for the fine trout with which they are stocked. Mr. M’Donnell, who owned them, imported trout from the Westmeath lakes. These bred and multiplied, so that fish of three or four pounds were not unfrequently caught here. Great numbers of wild fowl frequent these ponds in winter. The stream which supplies them rises up on the Seeghane mountain, and is a branch of the Liffey. It flows through Ballinascorney, by Pennybog, to Aughfarrel, [Early in the century there were here remains of the castle mentioned in Lewis’s Topographical Dictionary.] where, meeting a small stream from Butter Mountain, it forms the boundary between the counties of Dublin and Wicklow. It is here called the Brittas River. At Aughfarrel a weir or dam turns the greater part of this stream into an artificial cut, which leads it into the ponds; afterwards it passes down the valley to the Saggard mills. It is then known as the Camack, or, in the old times, the Commock or Commogue River. [Eugene O’Curry, in his *Ordnance Survey Letters, mentions that the name was unknown to *the inhabitants until about 1835, when they saw it in law notices. The proceedings were instituted by the proprietors of the mills on the stream against Councillor Bennett, of Aughfarrel, who attempted to prevent the water coming out of his river into theirs unless he was paid for it. There is a tradition that the stream got its name from the fact that the men who cut the channel were paid in camacs, or halfpence ; but it is more likely that it is the diminutive *camog; *meaning “crooked,” or “curved.” - Joyce’s *Irish Place Names, *p. 397.]

In Petty’s map this stream was represented as equal in size to the Liffey, which it certainly never was. After passing Saggard, it runs through Corkagh, Baldonnell, Clondalkin, Drimnagh, and many other townlands, turning many a mill-wheel in its devious course until it at last reaches the Liffey at Kilmainham. The other portion, being the overflow at Aughfarrel, also makes its way into the Liffey at Ballyward, the old residence of the Finnemore family. Here there is a heronry close to the house in some old ash trees. It is curious to see these usually timid and wary birds sitting quietly on their nests within a few perches of the hall-door, or attending to the wants of their long-legged brood, with the greatest unconcern as to human presence. Of course, they are carefully preserved from molestation.

Returning to the source of this stream, we come to Ballinascorney House, called formerly Dillon Lodge, as it was used as a hunting-lodge when the Dillons resided at Belgard. A large tract of the mountain here was also their property, and a walled-in deer-park, containing about 80 acres, near the Gap of Ballinascorney, was, in their time, well stocked with deer, and was also a famous rabbit warren. This park still belongs to Belgard.

For many years Dillon Lodge was tenanted by the Bagenal family. Here Robert Emmet, on the breaking out of the unfortunate rebellion of 1803, came to induce the mountaineers to join his fortunes. Doyle, a labourer to Miss Rose Bagenal, then the occupier of Dillon Lodge, lived near here at Ballymece. On the trial of Emmet, Doyle stated that on the 20th July he had gone to bed rather the worse for liquor. On waking, he found two men in the bed with him. One of these was afterwards addressed as “general,” and the other as “colonel,” by a number of men, whom he found also in the house. The officers were both in green uniform, with yellow facings, and large cocked hats. The “general” was Robert Emmet, and the other a French officer. Doyle, being frightened, made off, and gave information to a Barony constable called Robinson, at Tallaght. Though Emmet was not taken on this occasion, Doyle was always called “the stag,” or “informer,” and his son is so named to this day. [In a note left by Mr. Handcock, it is stated that it was Doyle who gave information to Major Sirr of Emmet’s hiding-place at Harold’s Cross. While selling eggs and butter there one day, he chanced to call at the house where Emmet was, and saw him cross the hall. Telling his son, Simon, by whom he was accompanied, to watch the house, he hurried in to the Castle, and brought Sirr out, who then captured Emmet. Doyle was given a pension of £40 a year.]

The day following, Emmet and his party took possession of Dillon Lodge. They greatly alarmed the Misses Bagenal, as Miss Rose Bagenal testified on her examination. The greatest harm done was the consumption of all the edibles in the house. Emmet was subsequently arrested by Major Sirr near Harold’s Cross. [In April, 1803, Robert Emmet occupied a house in Butterfield Lane, between Templeogue and Rathfarnham.]

Gerald Tench lived at Dillon’s Lodge part of each year for many years after his retirement, about the year 1852, from his office in the Four Courts. He had risen from a very humble post to a very lucrative one as Registrar on the Equity side of the Exchequer. He was paralysed, and drove everywhere in his carriage. In the house he had a wheel-chair, in which lie rolled him-self where he wished. Often when we were shooting over the Black Hill at the back of the house - which he took care should be well preserved, and which was a sure find for a few packs of grouse - old Tench had his carriage driven out over the heath to places where it was strange to see a four-wheeler. He watched the dogs setting and the shooting with the greatest delight.

When we dined with him after the day’s sport, he was wheeled in to the head of his table. He was a most strange-looking person, with a pallid face, marked features, and black skull-cap. He told many stories, and had the wine pushed round like the jolliest boon-companion. I never drank such Madeira or grand old port wine as he gave us.

After his death a steward of his, named Ward, lived in the Lodge until it was leased to the gallant Major Knox, proprietor of *The Irish Times. *Knox lived in great style here. Nearly every week in the season he drove his well-appointed four-horse drag, filled with ladies and gentlemen, to his mountain home, and here entertained them right royally. He organized a band of 20 or 30 performers out of the printers’ devils and the boys attached to the printing-office. He dressed these in uniform, and had a large omnibus, in which they were frequently driven up to the Lodge to play for the guests. The music could be heard for miles around, as they played their drums, trumpets, and fifes on the top of the ‘bus, on their way up and down, creating great excitement among the natives, until the novelty wore off. Poor Major Knox overworked himself. He died too soon. Had he lived, he had a great career before him.

Captain W. Hackett recently purchased the Trant property here, and is now the owner in fee.

At the top of Ballinascorney Gap is a large plain granite cross, erected about 40 years ago, but for what purpose I cannot find. The descent to the valley of the Dodder is very steep, and it is wonderful that no accident occurred in Major Knox’s coaching days. The road crosses the Dodder by a fine bridge of one arch to Friarstown, formerly the residence of Ponsonby Shaw, brother of Sir Robert Shaw, of Bushy Park, Bart. He expended a large sum of money in improvements, in planting and in reclaiming the land. He ornamented the glen with winding walks, grottoes, and waterfalls. At the head of it he made an ornamental lake, of some acres in extent, by an artificial dam, about 40 feet in height. Shortly after it was finished the dam burst, and swept away nearly all the walks and grottoes down the course of the stream. It was not repaired for many years, until a Captain Bayley took the place, and rebuilt it. A Scotchman named Watson succeeded him; but he did not much care for ornamental work. The place is now much neglected.

A little below Friarstown is Bohernabreena, where there is a neat Roman Catholic chapel, built on the site of an older one. Here a still older chapel existed long ago. In front of the present chapel is placed a large wooden crucifix.

Bohernabreena in old times was Bothar-na-Bruighne, or the “road of the court,” or “great mansion,” one of the five great palaces or breens, houses of universal hospitality, for which Ireland was famed.

In A. M. 3970, in the time of King Conaire Mor, lived the strong and brave chief, Da-Derga. The king was a wise and vigorous prince, and established tranquillity throughout the kingdom. Nevertheless, he had enemies. His four foster-brothers were turbulent, lawless men. He banished them from Ireland, and they took to piracy. Some time after, having gathered a strong band of robbers, they landed at Malahide. Thence they marched on Tara of the Kings, pillaging and burning all before them. Conaire, who was in Munster, opposed them; but finding the plains of Meath devastated, he turned towards Dublin. Crossing the Liffey he made his way to Bothar-na-Bruighne, [Dr. Joyce thinks it must have been built in the Dodder, near Bohernabreena Chapel. - Letter to Mr. Handcock.] where Da-Derga welcomed him. The pirates gave swift pursuit, stormed the king’s refuge, and slew him on the hearthstone of his host. [Tract by William Maunsell Hennessy - Bruighean Da-Dergha.]

So much for ancient history. In modern times a strange scene took place near here. In the year 1816, thousands of the country people were assembled on the banks of the River Dodder, to witness an execution.

Three men, a father and two sons, Peter, Joe, and Billy Kearney, were being executed for conspiracy to murder John Kinlan, the steward of Mr. Ponsonby Shaw, of Friarstown. The body of Kinlan was never found. It was said at the time that it had been burned to ashes. I have heard, however, that the country people knew right well where it was buried. The evidence was purely circumstantial. The Kearneys had been heard to say that they would finish Kinlan whenever they got the chance. There was a hatchet found with blood on it, and hair that resembled Kinlan’s. In those days, this was sufficient to criminate the men. Lundy Foot, a justice of the peace, then living at Orlagh or Footmount, was active in securing their conviction. I believe they were some of the first convicted under the then newt “Conspiracy to Murder Act.” The three Kearneys were brought from Kilmainham, surrounded by a troop of dragoons, as appears from a sketch taken at the time by an eye-witness. When the procession was passing Bushy Park, the seat of Sir Robert Shaw, the felons requested the carriage to be stopped. There they knelt down in the vehicle, and solemnly cursed the Shaw family through all their generations. Having thus relieved their feelings, they went cheerfully on their way, and arrived at a field on the side of the river, just above a house then owned by Mr. Wildridge. [He built several of the houses in Harcourt Street. The walls of these houses were so thin, that a story was told of a gentleman sleeping in one of them who was wakened by hammering in the next house. Presently the point of a twelvepenny nail was driven into his head through the wall.] In this field three gallows were erected. The dragoons were drawn up all around, and in a brief space of time the wretched men were launched into eternity, amid the screams of the women, and the execrations of the men; for the lower classes were ill-affected towards the Government at the time. The rope for one of the young Kearneys, who was very tall, was too long. Galvin, who was the executioner, had to dig a hole under the wretched man’s feet, which touched the ground until this was done.

Old Kearney’s wife was with difficulty restrained by the soldiers from attacking the hangman. Altogether, it was a dreadful scene. At last, when the men were dead, their bodies were cut down, thrown into a cart, covered with lime-sacks from a limekiln which stands close by, and brought back to Dublin, and buried within the gaol, to the horror of their relatives. Three skeletons were some time since exhumed at Kilmainham, which were said to be their remains, as the governor of the gaol lately told me. When the gallows were being removed, they nearly fell on Galvin the hangman, on which, notwithstanding the awful scene, the multitude set up a shout of laughter.

Above Friarstown is Piperstown, at present a straggling village; formerly it was more populous. The road from this to Castle Kelly is bounded on the left for some distance by the old deer-park wall, built 200 years ago by Speaker Conolly. A mile beyond Friarstown, we come to the well-known Monastery of St. Anne’s. A few monks reside here, who hospitably entertain all who come, provided they bring their own provisions, or order them beforehand. Here, during the summer, and some-times in the winter, a quoit club, so called, meets occasionally. Several of its members are more famous for their musical, facetious, or gastronomic, than for their athletic, achievements. The willing monks supply room, fuel, and water, and. many a pleasant evening is thus spent in the pure air of the mountains. [The monks have now left this place.] A little further, a winding path, sloping down towards the river, leads to the Holy Well and ruined Church of Killsantan - that is, the Church of Santan, [In 952 *The Annals of the Four Masters *record the obit of Caenchomraic, Abbot of Cill, rasping Sanctan. The church is further identified in the *Repertorium Viride, *and was, no doubt, founded by Bishop Sanctan “of good repute.” A hymn by him is preserved in the *Liber Hymnorum, *and printed in *The Irish Ecclesiastical Record, *vol. iv, p. 322.] an Irish saint, or, according to some, St. Anne. D’Alton says it was one of the churches granted by Archbishop Comyn to the College of St. Patrick, and confirmed thereto by a Bull of Pope Celestine III, in 1191.

In 1216, Pope Innocent III confirmed it, with its appurtenances, to the See of Dublin.

In 1231, Archbishop Luke granted this church and Kilbride as an additional support for the OEconorny of St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

In 1306, this district was returned as “waste by war.”

In 1513, the Prior of St. John’s Without Newgate demised to the Archbishop of Dublin 30 acres at Killnasantan for 50 years.

An Inquisition of 1547 finds annexed to this church a demesne of 100 acres. At this time Patrick Barnewell had a lease for 31 years of a messuage and 100 acres of land, appertaining to the Rectory of Killnasantan, together with the tithes of Templeogue, Knocklyn, Ballycreughyn (now Ballycra), Glasnamucky, Old Court, Tagony, Balmalyse, and the lands called Friarsland, now Friarstown, at the rent of £4 13s. 4d. per annum, over and above the curate’s stipend and repair of the chancel. Soon afterwards, the situation of this church being found inconvenient, a chapel was erected at Templeogue, and this ceased to be a place of worship, and soon went to ruin.

In 1755, Dr. Charles Cobbe, Archbishop of Dublin, leased to his son, Thomas, the mountain, town, and lands of Glasnamucky, Ballyslater, Killnasantan, and Castlekelly. This estate is now in possession of Charles Cobbe, Esq., D.L., J.P., of Newbridge House.

The ruins of the old church enclose 18 paces in length by five in width, and exhibit some architectural skill. There are a great many gravestones in the churchyard, which is surrounded by a good stone wall, built by Mr. Cobbe. The ground is considerably above the level of the surrounding fields, caused either by the multitude of burials, which for centuries have taken place here, or by the church having been originally built on a raised mound of artificial construction, dating from Druidical times.

We often find the old churches of Ireland built on or close to Druidical remains, as if the sanctity of the spot continued through all generations. Close to the entrance lies an ancient font, of horse-shoe shape, carved out of a granite boulder. It is about three feet in breadth, by four feet in length, and 10 inches deep. Part of the back rim is broken. It is of very rude construction, and is somewhat like the old fonts at Tallaght and Clondalkin. Many years ago, a gentleman residing in the neighbourhood intended to remove this font to his place, for a trough. Having with difficulty persuaded some of his men to undertake the work, they put a chain round the font, and yoked two horses to it. The chain first broke, next the swingbar, and finally one of the horses fell and broke his leg, which put an end to the project. The country people said that the ill-luck was deserved, for this attempt at sacrilege, as they considered it.

Further up the glen is Castle Kelly, a straggling hamlet, which takes its name from a small, old castle which formerly stood there, and a part of the foundation is still to be seen under one of the houses. Eugene O’Curry, who visited this place in 1837, relates that he met an old man, 84 years of age, who remembered the castle. He and his sister, Una, spoke Irish fluently. Up to the beginning of the present century, very little English was spoken in this sequestered glen, which, until the last 30 or 40 years, was inhabited by a very primitive race, who had but little dealings with the lowlanders. They preserved amongst them many of the traditions of the once famous Glenasmole.

At the head of the glen is Heath field Lodge, originally built by George Grierson, King’s Printer, grandson of George Grierson, who, in 1709, had a printing-office in Essex Street, at the sign of the Two Bibles. Among his productions were the first edition published in Ireland, in 1724, of *Paradise Lost; *Sir William Petty’s Maps of Ireland; and other valuable works. His wife, Constantia, was regarded as one of the most learned scholars of her age. She was mistress of Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French, and other languages; was a good mathematician, and wrote elegantly in verse and prose. Her piety and domestic character were not inferior to her learning. Her husband, through the influence of Lord Carteret, then Viceroy, obtained, in 1727, a reversion of the patent office of King’s Printer in Ireland. The life of his wife was included in the patent, in recognition of her talents. Mrs. Grierson edited several classical works, which were greatly esteemed. She died in 1733 at the early age of 27. [See notice in The *Dictionary of National Biography. *There is a manuscript memoir of her in the possession of the Grierson family.]

George Grierson, the owner of Heathfield Lodge before the Union, is stated to have had an income of about £20,000 a year. During the shooting season he entertained numbers of the nobility and gentry of the country here. It is said that he had six complete dinner services, one for each day, and all were cleaned up on Saturday, ready for the next week. This George Grierson was a very convivial old gentleman, sang a good song, was very witty, and a first-rate host. At the time of the Union he received £13,000 compensation, all of which he expended. He built Woodtown House at Mount Venus, where he had a wonderful model farm. He was very successful in gaining prizes for his cattle and crops, but at an enormous cost. He had also a fine house at Rathfarnham, now the Loretto Convent, and another house in Harcourt Street.

Notwithstanding all his wealth, he died several thousand pounds in debt, which his sons John and George very honourably paid off. His three daughters, after his death lived for many years at Heathfield Lodge, when in this country. They were great travellers, and visited many parts of the world, at a time when it was not so much the fashion for ladies to wander over the face of the earth as at present. They brought back numerous curiosities to their beautiful mountain home, which became quite a museum.

They altered the house into a Swiss chalet, with a deep-thatched roof, and balcony round it of carved woodwork. Inside the ceilings were divided by beams; the polished floors were covered with the skins of wild beasts, and antlers of every kind hung round the walls. The tables were loaded with curiosities. Outside the doors were mats made of heather in blossom, renewed daily. The garden contained many rare plants, and magnificent rhododendrons. The last still flourish, and are about the finest in the county.

The three ladies were respected and beloved by all who knew them. The people of the Glen looked up to them with the devotion of the old Irish to their chiefs. In return they spent much of their time in teaching and visiting among them, and helping forward any of the young people who showed superior intellect. They introduced wood-carving in the Swiss style; and I have seen some beautiful specimens of the handiwork of some of their *proteges. *Their brothers, George [He had six children. His eldest son was in the Bengal Civil Service.] and John [He married a Miss Skene, a daughter of Sir Walter Scott’s friend, to whom one of the cantos of *Marmion *was dedicated. His eldest son, George, was drowned while on a voyage to Natal. He died himself in Syria. - Letters from the Grierson family to Mr Handcack.], often visited them. I well remember the wonderful vehicle that John Grierson had built to order, for going up and down the then dangerous road. It was a sort of tax-cart, of great strength, with all manner of boxes, nets, and other contrivances for stowing away passengers and goods. There was a great lamp in front, that lighted up the road for 100 yards in advance; so that he could see in time whether it had been carried away by a sudden flood, or whether a bridge had been swept away since morning, as has sometimes happened.

He had an immense trumpet, which he sounded to clear the way when he went up or came down at night. He and his brother George started *The Daily Express. *They spent all their own, as well as their sisters; money on the enterprise. Failing just as it was established, other people have benefited. An accidental fire destroyed the beautiful cottage. The ladies escaped to a loft over a detached barn, whence they watched - with what feelings may be imagined - the destruction of all their treasures. Mr. George Grierson rebuilt the lodge on a plan drawn by himself. His family is all now dead - more is the pity, as is said. Mr. Cobbe is the present owner, and has the place in very good order. He has built cottages for his tenantry all through the valley, and they seem a comfortable class of people.

This valley of the Dodder is the once famous Glenas-mole, or Gleann-na-smól, “the Valley of the Thmshes.” In *The Transactions of the Ossianic Society *many of the old Irish poems relating to this glen are translated Several of these describe it as one of the hunting-grounds of the great warrior and statesman, Finn mac Coole. Here, with his Finnian bodyguard, he chased the enchanted doe, with his great hounds, Bran and Sgeolan. Here, as appears in the strange old Celtic poem called *The Chase of Gleann an Smoil *Finn met the hideous wretch, who had crossed the seas from Greece. She was the ugliest woman the world ever saw. She cast spells on Finn to compel him to marry her. The poem relates how she marched with an army of women to Binn Edair (or Howth), and fought there with Blind Coll the Mighty for three days, while 50 women-soldiers watched the Finnians.

A love affair between Diarmid of the Bright Teeth and one of the fair guards, with most stately, greenish, glancing eyes, led to the release of the Finnians from the magic spells. Conan the Bald cut off the head of the green-eyed girl for keeping them so long in pain. This done, the band rushed to the battle, where the ugliest woman was getting the better of Goll. In that fierce conflict they were cleaving each other to the bone. Most awful were the roars and bellowings that burst from the thundercloud of dust enveloping the desperate combatants. At length, Oscar the Noble makes a lion’s bound, and drives his spear through the wretch’s throat, and so ended her adventures. In another poem, *The Finnian Hunt of Sliabh Truim, *the manly, generous Finn slew the serpent of Loch Cartmor, the large serpent of Binn Edair, or Howth; the serpents of Loch Neagh, Loch Ree, of the refulgent Shannon, of Loch Carra, and of Loch Mask, the oppressive spectre of Loch Lurgan, and the Arroch, or indescribable monster of Glenasmole.

In the poem called *The Chase of Loch Lein, *the ancient name of Killarney, Oisin tells St. Patrick of all his men, and of their hounds. A great many verses are taken up in giving the names of the heroes and their hounds. He says “I often slept abroad on the hills, under the grey dew, on the foliage of the trees, and I was not accustomed to a supperless bed while there was a stag on yonder hill. St. Patrick replies: “Thou hast not a bed without food, for thou gettest seven cakes of bread, a large roll of butter, and a quarter of beef every day.” Oisin: “I saw a berry of the rowan tree larger twice than thy roll; and I saw an ivy leaf larger and wider than thy cake of bread; and I saw a quarter of a blackbird which was larger than thy quarter of beef. It is this that fills my soul with sadness to be in thy house, poor wretch.”

It is further related that Oisin, in proof of what he said to St. Patrick, set out, attended by a guide, as he was aged and blind. On arriving at Glenasmole, the guide called the attention of Oisin to a large rowan tree, bearing fruit of an enormous size, of which Oisin told him to pluck one and preserve it. Proceeding further, the guide’s attention was attracted by the immense ivy leaves overshadowing the valley; of these Oisin also directed him to pluck one and preserve it. They then proceeded to the Curragh of Kildare, where Oisin sounded the Dard Fillain, which lay concealed under a dallán, and a flock of blackbirds answered to the call. Amongst these was one of immense size, at which Oisin let loose a favourite hound, which, after a fierce struggle, killed it. They cut off a leg, and brought it, the rowan-berry, and the ivy-leaf, and laid them before St. Patrick, to show that Oisin was right, and the saint wrong, in his notions of the dietary of Oisin while living amongst the Finnians. It is curious that this tradition is still preserved among the inhabitants of Glenasmole. I have heard the story related by two men - one living near Ballinascorney, and the other at the head of the Glen. The large ivy still grows on St. Mary’s Cliff; and Heathfield Lodge is covered with it, some of the leaves being of great size.

Another poem, called *The Adventures of Amadan *Nor, mentions the strong Dun or Fort of Glenasmole, and that the Glen is full of witchcraft.

These curious old poems, translated by the Ossianic Society, relate to events occurring in the very earliest times, and, like all such legends, are partly fiction and partly fact. The Glen must have been then a celebrated spot. It was probably wooded up to the tops of the lofty hills which surround it, for many traces of trees remain in the bogs which now cover the sides of Kippure, Seefin, Carrigeen Rhua, and the other hills around.

In these wild woods the red deer, and perhaps the mighty Irish elk, found a secure retreat, until disturbed by the great deer-hounds of Finn, Olsin, and the other chieftains, whose deeds are related in these old poems. To commemorate the strength of the celebrated Finn, there is an inscription on a marble slab let into a granite boulder, lying at the end of the grounds of Heathfield Lodge, at the corner next the road. The inscription is as follows:-

“Finmakoom, one of the Irish Giants,

carried this stone

on his shoulder from the

opposite mountain on April 1st,

1444 - he was 9 feet 7 inches high,

and weighed 44 stone.”

[This stone has been thought to be the same as the one known as Finn mac Coole’s finger-stone. The latter was so called from marks, which were said to have been left by the giant’s fingers, when he threw it from the Hill of Allen to Tallaght.-See *Dublin Penny Journal, *1833, p.327. Dr. Joyce, however, is of opinion that the stone thus referred to was a different one from the one on which the inscription has been placed. - Letter to Mr. Handcock of March 22nd, 1880.]

The inscription was placed here by the Griersons, but the stone, which weighs about a ton, was always known as Finn mac Coole’s stone. Part of the tablet is broken, and only for the assistance of a man who knew the inscription by heart, I could not have completed ~it. [The tablet has entirely disappeared since the above was written]

Next Chapter Handcock Index