The Bray Road, Donnybrook, Stillorgan, Loughlinstown, Old Bray and its Smugglers.

CHAPTER VII

Leaving town by what was formerly known as the Donnybrook road, but which, since its accession to respectability, has become the Morehampton Road, we enter Donnybrook, now almost merged in the populous district around it, though still retaining its distinctive character as a village. Few of its old features, however, now remain, its quaint inns are gone, its thatched cottages have vanished, and the whole place has assumed a less rural appearance than it possessed in the days when the “glories” of its Fair shed around it their halo of renown. It must be confessed, however, notwithstanding the glamour with which prose and ballad writers have endeavoured to invest Donnybrook Fair, that for many years prior to its abolition, it had forfeited every claim to recognition as a national festivity, and in its final stages had grown to be a gigantic public nuisance and disgrace.

This Fair was established by Royal Charter in 1204 to compensate the Dublin citizens for the expense of building walls and defences around the city, and was for centuries the most important fair in Ireland. It is now, indeed, difficult to realise that the deserted, low-lying field on the left as we pass out of the village, is the historic ground where for over 600 years was held the world-renowned Fair of Donnybrook, so famed for fighting, dancing, love-making, and drollery, and so long associated with the name and character of the Irish people.

Only a brief reference can here be made to the circumstances which led to the abolition of this historic festivity. For several weeks in August every year, all business in Dublin was more or less paralysed in consequence of the general demoralisation caused by the Fair. An agitation commenced by the Press led to the inauguration of a public subscription to purchase the patent from the owners, and this having been satisfactorily arranged in 1855*, *the Fair was allowed to lapse, and the “glories of Donnybrook” were thus quenched for ever.

Memories of its vanished revels still linger in the locality, and in the minds of strangers the place is still associated with the Fair, the name conjuring up visions of shillelaghs, dancing, whiskey drinking, and skull cracking, but these frolicsome days are gone, never to return, the generation that witnessed them has nearly passed, and Donnybrook, repenting of its evil ways, has now settled down as a respectable suburb of the city, anxious to atone in its later years for the faults and follies of a disreputable past.

Lewis’s *Dublin Guide *(1787) contains the following notice of Donnybrook:- “A large and pleasant village, two miles from the Castle of Dublin, and much frequented by the citizens of Dublin, on account of the good accommodation to be had here, particularly at the two principal tea-houses, one at the sign of the Rose at the entrance of the place, and the other a little further on, kept by Mrs. Darby.”

The Rose Inn, so frequently alluded to by writers in connection with old Donnybrook, was situated at the end of Church Lane, and occupied premises which had originally been the glebe house.

Crossing Anglesea Bridge over the Dodder, we enter on a rather uninteresting stretch of road, three miles long, to Stillorgan, anciently Tigh-Lorcan, meaning Lorcan’s house or resting-place. Opposite Mount Merrion Avenue will be seen the entrance gate to Mount Merrion, the Irish residence of the Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, representative of the Fitzwilliams of Merrion, whose ancestral castle stood near the site now occupied by the Blind Asylum at Merrion.

We next enter Stillorgan, situated in a hollow, and well sheltered by its surrounding woods. There is little of interest to notice in the village, but a short distance east of it there stood until some twenty-five years ago, the manor house of Stillorgan, a stately mansion, formerly the home of the Barons Allen of Stillorgan. Here many a gay company assembled in the early part of the I 8th century during the lifetime of the second Lord, and in after years, when it had passed out of possession of the Allen family, it had many distinguished occupants, and was a social centre of considerable importance in the I 8th century.

A conspicuous object for a considerable distance around is the fine obelisk standing in grounds which formerly were portion of Stillorgan House Park, but now belong to Obelisk Park. This obelisk was erected in 1741 during the severe winter known as “the hard frost,” to give employment to the poor.

In Ware’s *Antiquities of Ireland *it is mentioned that in 1716 a sepulchral chamber was discovered at Stillorgan, lined with flag-stones and covered over with one massive, flat stone of such a size that 10 men were unable to lift it. In the interior were fragments of human bones, accompanied by an urn containing what appeared to be loose earth. It was evidently the grave of some chieftain or person of distinction, though no tradition has been handed down to us as to his identity, and it may be that he was the Lorcan commemorated in the ancient name of the locality, which has been modified into the modern designation of Stillorgan.

The road now ascends to Galloping Green, a small village deriving its name from a miniature race-course which existed here many years ago, and about half a mile further, the highest point of the road is reached, 303 feet over sea level. The road now begins to descend, and we presently reach the village of Cornelscourt, where up to a few years ago stood the remains of the ancient castle or fortified dwelling which gave name to this hamlet. Of this old building only portion of an end wall now survives, the rest having been taken down to make room for two new houses at the far end of the village.

A mile beyond Cornelscourt we enter Cabinteely, in which there is nothing calling for notice; and in a mile and a half further along a pleasant open road, we reach Loughlinstown, situated in the sheltered valley of the Loughlinstown river. In the middle of the road leading into the village will be seen a fine tree with seats around it, beyond which, to the left is a waste sandy tract along the bed of the river. In the far end of the village, in a commanding position above the valley, is the Rathdown Union Workhouse, an extensive establishment which, with its out-offices and grounds, covers a considerable area.

Loughlinstown House, to the left of the village, has been in possession of the Domvile family since the Restoration, and although it has undergone considerable alterations since that time, portion of the original structure still remains.

In the 18th century, Loughlinstown was the centre of a great hunting district, and was much patronised by devotees of the chase. There was then in the village a well-known hunters’ inn, owned by one Owen Bray, which, according to Dr. Ball’s *History of the County of Dublin, *has since been altered into the modern residence known as Beechwood, opposite the entrance to Loughlinstown House. These sporting times have been commemorated in the fine old hunting song, “The Kilruddery Hunt,” which is reproduced at the end of this chapter. It is interesting by reason of its allusions to many places where fox hunting would now be utterly impossible, but which at that time were wild and unenclosed.

During the troublous period at the close of the 18th century, the lands lying for a considerable distance to the west of the village were the site of a great military camp, which extended over 120 acres, and accommodated 4,000 soldiers. Notwithstanding the scenes of bloodshed and misery which were of frequent occurrence in the neighbourhood, the troops found ample opportunities for amusing themselves, and contemporary writers describe the camp as being a constant scene of gaiety, a ballroom having been specially erected for dancing. Vivid traditions of this camp still survive among the people of the locality.

Passing out of the village by a steeper hill than that by which we entered it, in about a mile we reach Shankill Station situated at the junction of the Bray and Killiney roads.

Crossing the high railway bridge, we enter the village of Tillystown, not far from which, to the left of the road, are the almost indistinguishable remains of the ancient Church of Kiltuck. Just before entering the portion of Bray town called Little Bray, formerly included in the County Dublin, we pass, on the left, the modem residence known as Cork Abbey, in the grounds of which is shown the site of an old burial place, together with a well, said to have belonged to an ancient monastic establishment.

Passing through Little Bray, the only object worthy of notice is the Castle, which is probably only portion of a much larger structure, as so important a position, commanding the passage of the road from Dublin and of the only practicable ford across the river for miles, would require to be defended by an extensive and strongly fortified building. Walter de Ridelesford, a renowned Anglo-Norman warrior, was, in 1173, granted the lands of Bray and the surrounding district by Strongbow, and in all probability built the castle here. In 1213 King John granted to de Ridelesford a charter entitling him to hold a fair in the town every Thursday.

In 1402 John Drake, Mayor of Dublin, marched out with a well-equipped force against the Irish tribesmen, whom he encountered and defeated near Bray, for which service he was re-elected to the Mayoralty for the following year. Bloody Bank, now changed to Sunny Bank, on Bray Common, is said to derive its name from having been the burial place of those who fell in this battle.

The two portions of Bray divided by the river (formerly the county boundary at this point) were anciently known as Much Bray and Little Bray, of which names it is curious that the latter alone has survived.

It is somewhat interesting to read in a “regal visitation” of 1615, that one Maurice Byrne was then the Vicar of Bray, that the value of the benefice was £7, that he read the service in Irish, and that the Book of Common Prayer in use in the Church was printed in the Irish language. It would thus appear that the native language was in general use at the time in this district, irrespective of religious or racial distinction, as the records of the time would go to show that there was a fair sprinkling of persons of English descent dwelling in the locality.

In 1690, on the day after the Battle of the Boyne, King James, in his flight from Dublin, arrived in Bray early in the morning and learning that he was closely pursued, posted a strong force at the bridge, with instructions to them to remain until noon, to oppose the passage of the pursuing party, while he and his retinue made their escape through the mountains of Wicklow, on the way to Waterford. A skirmish is said to have taken place in consequence, but no details are forthcoming on the subject, and it must have been only a trifling affair.

Bray, as a watering place, may be said to date from the extension of the Dublin and Kingstown Railway to the town in 1851. In the earlier part of the century there was no esplanade extending by the shore - nothing but the heaped sand, shingles and low sand dunes, along which a rude raised pathway led to the Head, interrupted by numerous hollows and irregularities caused by the digging and carting away of the sand by farmers and others in the neighbourhood. All the space now occupied by the Esplanade was swept by a fierce sea during easterly gales, and the present line of house frontage marks, roughly speaking, the extreme range of the waves on such occasions.

The few persons who went in the summer to enjoy the sea breezes had to pick their way as best they could among the slippery pebbles and sand heaps that strewed the shore. The route from Bray Bridge towards the beach was the old road which runs beside the river, and the present Quinsborough Road was represented by a pathway through fields, while Quin’s Hotel possessed a splendid garden extending the whole way down to the sea.

At this period there were only two habitations along the sea front - one a small, pretty cottage where Bray Head Hotel now stands, whilst somewhere on the ground occupied by Claddagh Terrace was the other, a mud hovel, so diminutive, so wretched and so miserable as to earn for it the local soubriquet of “The Rat Hole.” This strange dwelling was tenanted by an equally strange occupant an eccentric, solitary, tar-begrimed old fisherman, who was a well-known character in the neighbourhood, and who took a delight in surrounding his unattractive abode with ill-smelling heaps of manure, offal, seaweed and every other abomination that came within his reach, until at last it became difficult to distinguish between the dwelling and these strange accessories. To what end he accumulated these malodorous tumuli none who knew him could surmise; but that he enjoyed the possession of them could be open to no doubt, as he was to be seen there daily, during his leisure hours, regaling his nose and eyes on their perfume and proportions.

In the other cottage near the Head lived an elderly woman and her daughter, whose ostensible means of livelihood were seeking and selling the pebbles peculiar to the locality, known as Wicklow pebbles, but who really were engaged in the profitable business of smuggling, and, in conjunction with others, acted as agents for the various overseas craft that then frequented this coast for the contraband trade.

The mother was a woman of great courage and strength of character, and always went about armed; she was known to have amassed a considerable fortune by her operations, and was, at least on one occasion, engaged in an affray with the Preventive men. When she died many years afterwards, her daughter found herself a rich woman.

The wild and lonely coast of Wicklow offered so many facilities for smuggling that the efforts of the Government were unable to accomplish more than barely to interrupt and at most delay the well-laid schemes of the contrabandists.

The usual plan adopted by smuggling vessels plying here was, under cover of night or misty weather, to send their contraband goods ashore in boats to the preconcerted places of concealment on the coast, and then to sail openly with their legitimate cargo to Dublin or other port, and thus hoodwink the Revenue authorities. There can be little doubt, however, that corruption was rife among the Revenue and Customs officers at that period, and &hat they could, when necessary, look in the wrong direction.

The natural conformation of the coast around Bray Head lent itself readily to the adaptation of places of concealment, of which there were several, but the principal one was that known as “The Brandy Hole,” half a mile along the shore from where the road crosses the railway on the Head. Here was an immense cavern, with its entrance opening to the sea, and its many ramifications extending far in under the hill, affording ample accommodation for the cargoes of all the vessels plying their risky trade here. Into this great natural store-house, fully laden boats were easily able to make their way by the light of lanterns, and discharge their contents high and dry into the numerous receptacles prepared for them.

Immediately over this cavern, and adjoining the rude goat track that then encircled the Head, was a shaft sunk in a slanting direction into the earth, communicating with another subterraneous chamber - a sort of second storey to the lower one - but showing no trace of its existence on the surface, as the entrance was carefully concealed by a thick growth of brambles and bracken. This provided for the initiated a ready means of access from the land to the cavern, which was furnished where necessary with steps and platforms whereby a person above could, by means of a rope, assist those below to climb out on top, or if need be, drag up bales of goods for storage in the upper chamber.

In after years, when reports began to be whispered abroad as to the existence of this Ah Baba’s cave, the locality became the scene of some fierce struggles between the Revenue men and the desperadoes engaged in the contraband traffic. It was a time when a Revenue officer’s life was one of constant excitement; he needed to be a man of courage and determination, and the risks of his avocation were almost as great as those of a soldier’s in the field.

Both the caves mentioned were utterly obliterated during the construction of the railway, but the name of “The Brandy Hole” still attaches to an inlet in the cliffs, and is the sole memorial of this great smugglers’ rendezvous, the very tradition of which has been lost among the modern population.

With the advent of steam, telegraphs and police, smuggling has been shorn of much of the romance with which it once was associated; the picturesque figure of the bold smuggler with his slouched hat and feather, jack-boots and huge pistols, has disappeared from the stage of modern life and survives only in that of melodrama, and the Dublin folk of to-day, whirled rapidly along the railway around Bray Head, look down on his former haunts with scarcely a thought for the desperate scenes enacted there 100 years ago.

THE KILRUDDERY HUNT

The author of this spirited song was Thomas Mozeen, an actor and singer, who also wrote “An Invitation to Owen Bray’s at Loughlinstown,” and was a well-known patron of that hunters’ hostelry. Before the publication of “The Kilruddery Hunt,” and only a few days subsequent to the event which it commemorates, it was sung for the first time at the house of one of the sportsmen who took part in the hunt, at his house on Bachelor’s Walk, Dublin.

“Hark! Hark! jolly sportsmen, awhile to my tale,

Which to pay your attention I’m sure cannot fail;

‘Tis of lads and of horses, and dogs that ne’er tire

O’er stone walls and hedges, through dale, bog and briar;

A pack of such hounds and a set of such men,

‘Tis a shrewd chance if ever you meet with again;

Had Nimrod, the mightiest of hunters, been there,

‘Fore God, he had shook like an aspen for fear.

“In Seventeen Hundred and Forty and Four,

The fifth of December, I think ‘twas no more,

At five in the morning by most of the clocks,

We rode from Kilruddery in search of a fox.

The Loughlinstown landlord, the brave Owen Bray,

And Johnny Adair, too, were with us that day;

Joe Debil, Hal Preston - those huntsmen so stout –

Dick Holmes, some few others, and so we set out.

“We cast off our hounds for a full hour or more,

When Wanton set up a most terrible roar,

‘Hark to Wanton!’ cried Joe, and the rest were not slack ,

For Wanton’s no trifler esteemed in the pack.

Old Bonny and Collier came readily in,

And every hound joined in the musical din;

Had Diana been there, she’d been pleased to the life,

And one of the lads got a goddess to wife.

“Ten minutes past nine was the time of the day,

When Reynard broke cover, and this was his way;

As strong from Killegar as if he could fear none,

Away he brushed round by the house of Kiltiernan;

To Carrickmines thence, and to Cherrywood then,

Steep Shankill he climbed, and to Ballyman Glen;

Bray Common he crossed, leaped Lord Anglesea’s wall,

And seemed to say ‘Little I care for you all.’

“He ran Bushe’s Grove up to Carbury Byrne’s –

Joe Debil, Hal Preston, kept leading by turns;

The earth it was open, yet he was so stout,

Though he might have got in, still he chose to keep out.

To Malpas high hill was the way that he flew;

At Dalkey Stone Common we had him in view;

He drove on by Bullock, through Shrub Glenageary,

And so on to Monkstown where Larry grew weary.

“Through Rochestown wood like an arrow he passed,

And came to the steep hill of Dalkey at last;

There gallantly plunged himself into the sea,

And said in his heart, ‘None can now follow me.’

But soon to his cost, he perceived that no bounds

Could stop the pursuit of the staunch-mettled hounds;

His policy here did not serve him a rush,

Five couple of Tartars were here at his brush.

“To recover the shore then again was his drift;

But ere he could reach to the top of the clift,

He found both of speed and of daring a lack,

Being waylaid and killed by the rest of the pack.

At his death there were present the lads I have sung,

Save Larry who, riding a garron was flung,

Thus ended at length a most delicate chase,

That held us for five hours and ten minutes space.

“We returned to Kilruddery’s plentiful board,

Where dwell hospitality, truth and my lord;

We talked over the chase and we toasted the health

Of the men who ne’er struggled for places or wealth.

Owen Bray baulked a leap - says Hal Preston ‘Twas odd.’

“Twas shameful,’ cried Hal, ‘by the great living –

Said Preston, I halloo’d ‘Get on though you fall,

‘Or I’ll leap over *you, *your blind gelding and all.’

“Each glass was adapted to freedom and sport,

For party affairs we consigned to the Court;

Thus we finished the rest of the day and the night,

In gay flowing bumpers and toasts of delight.

Then till the next meeting, bade farewell each brother

So some they went one way, and some went another;

And as Phoebus befriended our earlier roam,

So Luna took care in conducting us home.”

Explanation of names occurring in the song.

Wanton, Bonny, and Collier Killegar… Favourite hounds in Lord Meath’s pack.

*Killegar … On western side of the Scalp.

The House of Kiltieman .. The residence of “Johnny Adair,” referred to in the song - near the Scalp.

Cherrywood Bride’s Glen, near Loughlinstown.

Ballyman A sequested glen near Old Connaught.

Steep Shankill Carrickgollogan Mountain.

Carbury Byrne’s A well-known residence at that time near Cabinteely.

Malpas high hill Killiney Hill, the obelisk on which was erected by Colonel Malpas or Mapas.

Dalkey Stone Common … Between Dalkey and Sorrento.

Rochestown Wood Between Ballybrack and Glenageary. Some of the wood still remains.

Garron (Irish) a worthless old horse.

My Lord The 6th Earl of Meath.

Shrub Glenageary *An old name for Glenageary.

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