The Rock Road - Ballsbridge, Merrion, Booterstown, Blackrock and Monkstown.

CHAPTER III

The Rock Road - Ballsbridge, Merrion, Booterstown, Blackrock and Monkstown.

Leaving town by the Kingstown tram route - Lower Mount Street, Northumberland Road and Pembroke Road - we reach Ballsbridge, a name which, originally attaching to a bridge here, at length became extended to the adjacent locality. As the road to Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey *via *Stephen’s Green and Baggot Street, represents one of the most ancient highways from Dublin, it is highly probable that even from the earliest times, the Dodder was spanned by a bridge at this point, though, no doubt, long periods often elapsed between the decay or destruction of one bridge and the erection of its successor. During the 15th and 16th centuries when, owing to the difficulty of navigating the Liffey, Dalkey was the Port of Dublin, there must have been a continual traffic with passengers and merchandise along this road, and, as the river Dodder can hardly ever have been fordable here, it would have been impossible to convey the heavy cargoes of goods into Dublin in the absence of a bridge of some description.

In *An Historical Sketch of the Pembroke Township, *published in connection with the Dublin Exhibition of 1907, Dr. F. Elrington Ball states that bridges stood here with the names of Simmonscourt and Smothe’s Court, and that in the beginning of the 17th century there was a dwelling called “Ball’s House” on the site now occupied by Ballsbridge Bakery. This, he considers, is the origin of the name, Ballsbridge.

The maps of the Down Survey (1650, &c.) show no bridge here, but according to Rocque’s Map, about 100 years later, the river was then spanned by a narrow bridge at this point, and the immediate neighbourhood was known by its present designation. A substantial stone bridge, which was probably preceded by a wooden one, was erected in 1791, and this structure was successively rebuilt in 1835* *and 1904.

On the way to Ballsbridge, we pass near the site of an eminence known as Gallows Hill, where the old city gallows stood, and where the Marquess of Ormonde, in 1649, planted his artillery to support the party he had told off to fortify Baggotrath Castle prior to the Battle of Rathmines.

In the early part of the last century Duffy’s celebrated calico print works at Ballsbridge gave employment to some 500 hands from this neighbourhood, and the bleach green extended along the western side of the Dodder the whole way to the Fair Green at Donnybrook. The concern was ultimately purchased by a syndicate of Manchester firms, who closed and dismantled it to crush out Irish competition.

All this locality was quite rural up to about fifty year ago, and the Dodder flowed through the fields between sloping green banks instead of, as at present, between stone embankments.

Besides the main road to Blackrock, &c., *via *Ballsbridge there appears to have been an equally ancient route *via *Donnybrook bridge or the ford that preceded it, and thence by an old field-path and double-ditch that ran through the fields a little south of Aylesbury Road as far as Nutley Lane, where it turned to the southward, and emerged on the Rock Road at Old Merrion churchyard. Although in its later years only a field path, it seems to have been the route taken by the Dublin Corporation in former times on the occasions of the annual ceremony of riding the franchises or boundaries of their municipal jurisdiction. The accounts of this ceremony state that on the way back from Blackrock along the main road to Merrion Church, the corporators turned up to the left along an ancient mearing that ran through the fields by the Well of the Blessed Virgin, to Simmonscourt, and thence to Donnybrook.

This ancient pathway, through the meadows, commanding charming views of the mountains, was used until about twenty-five years ago, and the old track and double-ditch can still be distinctly traced the whole way from where it started at Seaview Terrace, near the upper end of Aylesbury Road, down to Nutley Lane. Beyond this point nearly all traces of it are lost for some distance, but indications of a track are again discernible in the grounds of Nutley, behind the boundary wall of St. Mary’s Asylum, and joining Churchyard Lane, which was probably portion of the old roadway. The Well of the Blessed Virgin, otherwise called Lady Well, stood beside the path exactly at the point where the Parliamentary boundary turns abruptly to the north-west, but it has now disappeared, its source having probably been disturbed by drainage operations. This well is marked on Duncan’s Map (1820), and its site can be found on the six-inch Ordnance Survey Map by following the Parliamentary Boundary to where it turns at right angles, 150 yards south of a point about midway on Aylesbury Road.

The fact that the line of this old field path coincides for a considerable portion of its way with the ancient franchise boundary and the present Parliamentary boundary, would go to show that some well defined landmark must have existed here from early times.

It is to be regretted that no public interest was taken in this ancient roadway, and that after having been in existence for probably over a thousand years, the extinction of the right-of-way was so recently permitted.

Down to the early part of the last century, the strand from Merrion to Kingstown was the scene of frequent shipping disasters, most of which were probably due to the few and inefficient lighthouses then along this coast.

A traveller’s description of the Bay of Dublin, written in 1800, states that the locality is a most dangerous one to shipping, and that: - “The numerous wrecks which take place every winter, apparent from the masts, which are seen every here and there peeping above the surface of the water, as it were, to warn others by their fate, are convincing proofs of the truth of this assertion” (Blacker’s Sketches).

Besides the casualties to shipping, however, there were numerous drowning accidents, which cannot be so easily accounted for, as the water in most places is shallow, even at high tide.

After the disasters to the troopships, *Rochdale *and *Prince of Wales, *in 1807, the strand between Merrion and Blackrock acquired such a terrible notoriety by reason of the number of mutilated bodies cast up along it, that a tract was published that year, entitled *The Ensanguined Strand of Merrion, *or a “Stuffing for the Pillow of those who could have prevented the recent calamity in the Bay of Dublin.” This publication drew attention to the dangerous condition of the coast, and advocated improvement in the lighthouses of the Port.

At Merrion there formerly stood, on ground nearly opposite the railway crossing, Merrion Castle, the ancestral home of the Fitzwilliam family, who settled in this locality early in the 15th century. The castle, which was one of the largest structures of its kind in the County Dublin, fell into decay early in the new 18th century after its owners moved to Mount Merrion, their new residence, and was partly taken down in 1780. Duncan’s Map of the County Dublin (1820) represents the castle as still existing, from which it would seem that portion of the ruins survived until the early part of the 19th century.

A survey of 1654 states that Merrion had been the property of the Lord of Merrion, “an Irish Papist,” and that on the lands were an old decayed castle and an extensive rabbit burrow.

Opposite Merrion crossing there was, until about twenty years ago, an inn called “The Coach and Horses,” which was adorned in the old fashion, with an imposing pictorial representation of its title. The building, or portion of it, still remains on the roadside, forming part of the out-offices of the Blind Asylum.

In 1807 this inn was visited one night by 10 highwaymen, who robbed the proprietor of all the ready money he had in his possession, amounting to £60, and leisurely proceeded to divide the spoils. They then adjourned to the bar parlour, where they remained for about an hour drinking, and the health of the host was proposed and drunk with much enthusiasm, after which the unbidden guests departed with many apologies for their intrusion.

On the south side of Churchyard Lane, and close to the main road, is the Old Merrion churchyard, now neglected and forgotten, enclosed by a high wall, and exhibiting no outward indications of its existence. Of the thousands of people who pass within a few yards of it every day, probably not a dozen have ever heard of it. Yet it was well known in former times, before this locality was so extensively built over, and many a prominent citizen of his day sleeps within the circuit of its mouldering walls, undisturbed by the modem innovations that have grown up around his last resting-place. Dalton, writing in 1837, states that “the old church presents some few but insignificant remains, in the middle of a graveyard most scandalously open to every species of insult and desecration.”

No remains of the church are now distinguishable in the jungle of weeds and brambles with which the place is overgrown, but a number of headstones, some of them a couple of hundred years old, remain in excellent preservation. In the churchyard are some ancient trees, and the trunks of others blown down by storms. Immediately inside the wall, next the lane, is a headstone erected to the memory of the soldiers who perished in the transport packet *mince of Wales *in 1807. It bears the following inscription: -“Sacred to the memory of the soldiers belonging to His Majesty’s 18th Regiment of Foot, and a few belonging to other corps, who, actuated by a desire of more extensive service, nobly volunteered from the South Mayo and different Regiments of Irish Militia into the line and who were unfortunately shipwrecked on this coast in the *Prince of Wales *Packet, and perished on the night of the 19th of November, 1807. This tribute to their memory has been placed on their tomb by order of General the Earl of Harrington, Commander of the Forces in Ireland.”

*Walsh’s Impartial News Letter *of 16th May, 1729, contains the following curious item of news in regard to this neighbourhood: - “This morning we have an account from Merrion that a parcel of these outlandish Marramounts which are called Mountain Rats who are now here grown very common. .. walk in droves and do a great deal of mischief.” The account then goes on to relate how these mysterious pests devoured a woman and a nurse-child in Merrion, and that the inhabitants “killed several which are as big as Katts and Rabbits . . This part of the country is infested with them. Likewise we hear from Rathfarnham that the like vermin destroyed a little Girl in the Fields.”

Passing out of Merrion, we presently enter Booterstown, a locality held in high repute as a fashionable summer watering place, and the scene of much gaiety 100 years ago. In 1435 the name appears as Ballybothyr, or town of the road, from its position on the ancient road to Dunleary and Bray, and this name, by a translation of the first portion, resolved itself in time into Butterstown or Booterstown.

Ferrar, in his *View of Dublin *(1796), writes enthusiastically of the strand here: - “To ride over the extensive strand from hence to Booterstown, while the waves roll over the horse’s feet; to see numerous ships with expanded wings passing and re-passing the azure main; to see so many groups of men, women and children bathing, walking, jaunting, coaching, in pursuit of that inestimable blessing, health; to consider that we are within ten hours’ sailing of Britain’s favourite isle, added an indescribable gaiety to our spirits.”

Thirty years later, in 1826, Brewer in his *Beauties of Ireland *describes the road at Booterstown as being “enlivened, particularly at a time of bathing, with numberless carriages of various descriptions, from the well appointed equipage, at once convenient and superb, down to the jaunting car of passage, drawn by one miserable garron, so ill-fed, so ill-groomed and lean, that it would appear to be scarcely capable of accelerating its own dissolution by an effort towards speed of foot … The street of transit, thickly lined with houses of an ordinary description, holds forth no charms, and independent of some agreeable and ornamental dwellings retired from the busy thoroughfare, the sole inducement to visitants is found in the facility of bathing on the soft and gently sloping strand.”

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“Going to the County of Wicklow, the road to Blackrock is evidently the pleasantest, most frequented, and level. At Booterstown the fields are disposed in a style of judicious husbandry, the villas are neat and commodious … The elevation of the road contributes greatly to the pleasure of the traveller. The vast expanse of the prospect, opening on the wide expanse of the ocean, the steep, indented shore, the strand stretching three miles to the lighthouse, the fertile, verdant banks, everywhere fringed with wood and hanging gardens.”

This delightful picture became completely altered by the construction of the railway in 1832-1834, and the old sea-wall, over which, prior to that time, the storm-driven waves had often swept on to the road, thenceforth became the boundary of a foul-smelling salt marsh, the exhalations from which in time drove everyone out of the neighbourhood except those whose circumstances obliged them to reside there.

The road next passes through Williamstown, until recently a ruinous and miserable looking village, but now improved out of all recognition, the removal of the houses on the inland side of the road bringing prominently into the view the imposing buildings of the French College. There is nothing of interest, topographical or historical, to chronicle here, and we next enter Blackrock, once a fashionable watering place, but, like Booterstown, ruined as a seaside resort by the railway, which did the double damage of cutting off access to the shore and at the same time bringing more attractive places within easy reach of the city. For many years Blackrock languished in a dilapidated condition until it was constituted into a township, when great improvements resulted, and from a decayed village it rapidly grew into a prosperous suburb, while an attractive park replaced the malodorous swamp enclosed by the railway embankment.

No vestige whatever of the “black rock” (calp limestone), which originated the name of this locality, can now be discovered *in situ. *It is said that some few feet of it remained above the sand before the People’s Park was laid out, but if so, the deposits of rubbish to raise the level have long since covered it. The original vein of this rock was extensively used in connection with the railway, and some of it may be seen in the walls near the station, as well as on the top of the sea wall along the railway near Williamstown. Although not of a dark colour in a dry condition, it becomes when wet almost black, and in its original position. on the shore, wetted by the waves and spray, must have presented, from the sea, so striking a contrast to the granite beside it, as inevitably to command attention.

In *A Narrative of an Excursion to Ireland, *by members of the Honorable Irish Society of London, privately circulated in 1825, the writer, referring to a journey from Dublin to Blackrock, says: - “There are some very neat cottages on the road, the thatching of which is the very best work of the kind I have ever seen, and although I had heard much of the nearness of these buildings, they far exceeded my most sanguine expectations. I looked out in various directions for the Black Rock, expecting to see some stupendous mass -

‘Huge as the tower which builders vain

‘Presumptuous piled on Shinar’s plain.’

but could find nothing more than a dark coloured limestone crag, just peeping above the surface near the water’s edge.”

From this it would appear that even so far back as 1825, the original Black Rock had nearly disappeared, either as the result of artificial removal or long continued erosion by the sea.

The “Rock” was under what is now the Park-keeper’s lodge, formerly the Peafield Baths. Between 40 and 50 years ago these baths were fairly well patronised, and a row of bathing boxes stood on the shore, now portion of the public park, a culvert through the railway embankment allowing the water to enter and pass out with the tide.

Blackrock, some hundreds of years ago was variously called Newtown-at-the Black Rock, Newtown on the Strand by the Black Rock, Newtown Castle Byrne, or simply Newtown, so that “Blackrock” is simply an abbreviation of one of its ancient titles.

At the upper end of the main street, upon a pedestal, stands the ancient cross of Blackrock, which, from a remote period, marked the limit of the municipal jurisdiction in this direction. This relic of the olden time was owned and kept in repair by the Byrne family, from whom the name Newtown Castle Byrne is derived. The Dublin Corporation, when riding the franchises, crossed the sands from near Poolbeg to “the Black Rock,” and thence by low water mark to a point opposite the cross, where one of the party waded out as far as he could, and cast a javelin into the sea, to indicate the limit of the boundary eastward. The procession then rode by old Bath Street to the cross, and thence along the main road to Old Merrion churchyard, already alluded to.

In 1865 it was proposed to replace the cross by a new one, but public opinion in the locality declared itself in so unmistakable a fashion against such an act of vandalism, that the project was abandoned.

Blackrock in the 18th century was a great social centre, and the residence or resort of many distinguished people. Conway’s Tavern, the scene of many a brilliant function, stood in the main street, on the right-hand side entering George’s Avenue, and the annual melon feast held there was an event of great local interest, gold and silver medals being awarded to the producers of the best melons grown in the neighbourhood.

An article on Blackrock which appears in Walker’s *Hibernian Magazine *for 1783, states that: - “This is a noble village, situated about three miles from the north-east corner of Stephen’s Green, on a rising ground south of the Bay of Dublin; it consists of a considerable number of elegant country houses, and in summer it is much resorted to by the citizens for the purpose of bathing. In fine evenings it is as much crowded with carriages as the most populous streets in the city; and as there is a number of genteel families residing here at this season of the year, they have drums and assemblies as in town, whereby it is very sprightly and agreeable to such as have nothing to do.”

The Vauxhall Gardens, which were opened here in 1793, were, for a time, a favourite place of public amusement until the fickleness of fashion consigned them to obscurity. The house had previously been called Fort Lisle by the first Lord Lisle, who built it as a residence for himself. The following notice of the gardens appears in *The Dublin Chronicle *of 29th June, 1793: -

“VAUXHALL GARDENS, BLACKROCK, FORMERLY OCCUPIED BY** **LORD LISLE .

The proprietors of the above place respectfully inform the nobility and gentry residing at and visiting the Rock, that they have engaged a complete military band to attend on Tuesday next, and every Tuesday and Monday from 5 to 9 p.m. They humbly solicit public patronage and support, which they will anxiously endeavour to deserve. Admittance on the music nights, 6d. The house is laid out in a style of elegance as a hotel and tavern, and provided with every accommodation, equal to any house in England or Ireland.”

A further advertisement in the same journal states that “the house is furnished with everything in season - bowers, grottoes, interspersed through the dark, shady walks - make the garden truly romantic, and the effect the music has on the sea, which flows at the foot of the garden, can better be imagined than expressed.”

Notwithstanding these alluring announcements, Vauxhall Gardens failed to obtain the patronage and support so humbly solicited by its proprietors. In 1804 the place was advertised for sale, and after experiencing a succession of changes and vicissitudes as a private house, boarding school, and industrial school, it was at length demolished when the People’s Park was being laid out. The house stood on the ground now occupied by the entrance gate to the Park, and the grounds sloped down to the water’s edge.

Perhaps the most interesting house from a historic point of view in this neighbourhood is Frascati, formerly the seaside seat of the Leinster family, and the favourite residence of the unfortunate Lord Edward Fitzgerald. Here he spent many happy years with his talented young wife, and appears to have been greatly attached to the locality. After his death Frascati became the residence of the Dowager Duchess of Leinster, and was subsequently sold to Sir Henry Cavendish, Receiver-General for Ireland. In 1804 it became a boarding school, and afterwards underwent considerable alterations on being divided into two dwellinghouses.

In 1787 the state of the Rock Road became so dangerous owing to highwaymen, that a special meeting of the Blackrock Association was held in Jennett’s Tavern, with Lord Ranelagh in the chair, to consider the best means of ridding the road of these pests. They offered £20 reward to anyone prosecuting to conviction persons guilty of highway robbery or burglary on the road between Dublin and Dunleary, and, finding the local watch useless, established a nightly patrol from Blackrock to Baggot Street to protect passengers.

The following extract from *The Chronicle *of 5th July, 1792, throws an interesting sidelight on the means of communication with Dublin in those days: - “Sunday night an affray happened at Blackrock. The new carriage, called the Royal George, which passes between Dublin and the Rock, and carries, with perfect accommodation, sixteen passengers, was the object of an envious attack, made by the drivers of jaunting cars, noddies, &c. Fortunately, some gentlemen of rank and spirit were passengers in the George, who, aided by the gentlemen resident in the village, not only protected that useful vehicle but made two of the assailants prisoners.”

After the exodus of the gentry from Dublin and its neighbourhood consequent upon the Union, Blackrock fell rapidly into decay, and many of the large houses were untenanted or abandoned for years, until there was a slight revival of the place as a bathing resort in the early part of the last century.

This neighbourhood was in 1807 the scene of a fearful tragedy, almost without parallel in shipping disasters on the Dublin coast. On Wednesday afternoon, the 18th November, two transport vessels, the *Prince of Wales *and *The Rochdale, *sailed in company of some others from the Pigeonhouse harbour with volunteers for f6reign service drawn from Irish militia regiments. A snowstorm set in soon after their departure, accompanied by a violent easterly gale, and on the following morning they were observed labouring in the heavy sea outside the Bay to the southward, endeavouring, as it was believed, to return to the harbour. As the day advanced the snow fell so thickly that it was impossible for them to see their way, while the sea was so violent that they could not come to anchor. After a long and futile struggle, the *Prince of Wales *was driven on to the rocks behind Sir John Lees’ residence, Blackrock House. The long boat was launched, and Captain Jones, the crew, two soldiers and the steward’s wife and child jumped into it and rowed off as speedily as possible. In the darkness of the night they seem to have rowed for some distance along the shore, of the proximity of which they were ignorant, until one of the sailors falling overboard, found that he was in shallow water. Upon this the whole party walked ashore and made their way to Blackrock, where they found shelter. Extraordinary to relate they made no effort whatever to rescue the passengers on board (about 120 in number), who were left to their fate and perished without exception.

The fate of *The Rochdale *was even worse. On the day after her departure she was observed from Blackrock, labouring heavily in the offing, burning blue lights and firing guns as signals of distress, but the weather was such that no succour could be afforded. She threw out several anchors, but they dragged and snapped their cables, and she then drove with bare poles before the storm. Driven gradually towards the shore in the direction of Sandycove, she swept in the darkness past the old pier at Dunleary, and struck on the rocks under the Martello Tower at Seapoint, half a mile from where the *Prince of Wales *struck. Of the troops on board, their families, and the ship’s officers and crew (some 265 in all), not one escaped, and their mutilated bodies were found in great numbers next morning strewn along the shore.

When the ill-fated vessel was driving past the pier at Dunleary, the inhabitants of the adjoining houses could hear the cries of the terrified passengers and the reports of the muskets which they fired to attract assistance. Some people on the east side of the old harbour seeing the flashes and hearing the reports, ran round to the westward in the hope of affording help, but on reaching the road at Salthill, they were obliged to lie down behind the parapet abutting on the sea to protect themselves from the bullets fired in the dark by the despairing troops on board.

The wrecked vessel was poised in an extraordinary manner on the rocks at the foot of the tower, and lay so close to the shore that a twelve-foot plank sufficed to reach to her quarterdeck, but at the time she struck, the night was so dark and the snowstorm so dense that the unhappy passengers were doubtless unable to see anything off the vessel, and were consequently unaware of their proximity to the land. The Martello Tower, which is shown in a contemporary print of the disaster, was probably unoccupied at the time.

Nearly 400 lives were lost in this double disaster, and for days afterwards the bodies of men, women and children were cast up by the sea along the coast from Merrion to Kingstown. The bodies of *The Rochdale *victims were in almost every case unrecognisable owing to the violence with which they were dashed to death on the rocks or torn to pieces by the action of the sea in the hold of the vessel after she commenced to break up. Most of them were interred in the old Monkstown churchyard (pictured below), while those from the *Prince of Wales *were buried at Merrion as already stated.

Owing to the plundering 61 the bodies and the thefts of articles from the wrecks, a detachment of soldiers was stationed at intervals along the shore for some days after the occurrence.

The bottom of *The Rochdale *was completely smashed, but the decks to a great extent remained unbroken. The entire of the following Sunday was spent in removing the bodies from the holds of both the wrecks.

At the inquest on the 37 bodies found in the wreck of the *Prince of Wales; *which were laid out in Sir John Lees’ coachhouse, Captain Jones deposed that on Thursday morning when the snowstorm was in progress, he commenced to back, facing towards Howth. About 7 o’clock in the evening the vessel struck, and the waves broke over her, whereupon they launched the boat.

One of the witnesses, a soldier, stated that the Captain, after he had assured them that there was no danger, proceeded to hoist the boat, and that when he, the witness, got into it, the Captain endeavoured to throw him overboard. It was also alleged that the Captain, with a view to facilitating his own escape and that of the crew, removed the ladder communicating from the cabin to the deck, thereby depriving the unfortunate passengers below, of any chance of escape. Another witness deposed that he heard the Captain say that “he didn’t care a - who were lost, provided that his own men were saved.”

An inquest was also held on the 73 bodies found on *The Rochdale, *but nothing of importance transpired, as the completeness of the disaster had deprived the proceedings of all material testimony.

After the inquests had concluded, the captain, mate and steward of the *mince of ‘Wales *were arrested on a charge of murder, for having removed the ladders communicating from the hold to the deck, while the crew were escaping from the vessel. The remainder of the crew were detained as witnesses pending the trial, but when the case came on in December, the Crown abandoned the proceedings, finding, presumably, that the evidence was insufficient.

The Martello Tower at Seapoint at the present day looks a rather unlikely place for a shipping disaster, but it must be remembered that all the coast along here was much altered by the construction of the railway, and that many of the sharp rocks which proved so fatal to the victims are now covered over by the embankment and by the adjoining road and houses; moreover, in 1807, the immediate locality was so lonely and unfrequented that a vessel might easily be wrecked there at night without attracting notice. The scene of the *Prince of Wales *wreck is a reef of dark, jagged rocks projecting from the shore immediately behind Blackrock House, and easily identified by an ornamental embattled structure overlooking this spot of tragic memories. It is accessible on foot at low water only, and is visible from Seapoint Martello Tower, from which it is distant almost exactly half a mile.

The rocks all along this portion of the shore are so sharp and irregular that even in fine weather it is a difficult task for an active person to climb them without injury, so that it is not surprising that at night during a snowstorm, in a furious sea impelled by an easterly gale, not even one of the unfortunate passengers cast ashore on these cruel crags escaped.

Passing out of Blackrock by the main road, we reach Temple Hill, a little beyond which, on the right, is Montpelier Parade, one of the first terraces built in this locality. An illustration in *The Hibernian Magazine *represents this place as it appeared in 1802, the terrace having been completed a few years earlier by a Mr. Molesworth Green, with the idea of making this a residential neighbourhood. At the time it was built, this terrace must have enjoyed an uninterrupted view of the sea, as there were no houses to the south or east of it; but notwithstanding its attractive situation, it is surprising if any city people lived so far away from town in those days, when we consider the dangers of the road to Dublin owing to highwaymen, as well as the absence of any regular means of communication with the Metropolis.

In the picture referred to, also appears the tower of old Monkstown Church, taken down in 1832 to make room for the nondescript edifice which now disfigures its site.

Turning to the right at Monkstown Church up Carrickbrennan Road, we arrive at Monkstown Castle, situated within the grounds of the modern residence of the same name, and forming a picturesque and extensive ruin. It is enclosed by a grove of trees, and must originally have been a large building.

It is not certain when this castle was built, but it is recorded that in 1546 it was granted to Sir John Travers for his services to the Crown, and that in 1565 Sir Henry Sidney, the Viceroy, passed the night here after his debarkation From 1650 to 1660 the castle was in possession of General Ludlow, one of the regicides, who constantly alludes to it in his memoirs *(Ludlow’s Memoirs), *and mentions the details of several conversations he had with the Protector’s son, Colonel Henry Cromwell. Describing one of these, he writes: - “There on a subsequent occasion, after a short collation, walking in the garden, I acquainted him with the grounds of my dissatisfaction with the present state of affairs in England, which I assured him was in no sort personal, but would be the same were my own father alive, and in the place of his. He told me that his father looked upon me to be dissatisfied upon a distinct account from most men in the three nations, and thereupon affirmed that he knew it to be his resolution to carry himself with all tenderness towards me.”

Monkstown is mentioned in that famous hunting song of the 18th century, “The Kilruddery Hunt” (see Index), as being one of the places through which the fox passed during an exciting hunt in the winter of 1744. Needless to say, the locality must have been thoroughly rural at that time, when the fox considered it safe to make his route through it, and the huntsmen were able to follow him in hot pursuit across the country.

Close to the Castle is the old Monkstown or Carrickbrennan Churchyard, where are buried many of the victims of the shipping disaster of 1807.

The following authorities were consulted in the preparation of this chapter: - “The Antiquities from Kingstown to Dublin,” by the late Rev. Dr. Stokes, published in the Journals of the Royal Society of Antiquaries for 1895 and 1900; Hill’s *Guide to Blackrock; Ball’s History of the County of Dublin; *Dalton’s *History of the County Dublin; *Wakeman’s *Old Dublin; *Blacker’s *Sketches of Donnybrook and Booterstown; *Brewer’s *Beauties of Ireland, *and various Dublin newspapers and magazines of 1807.

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