Patrick and the Paschal Fire

Every year on the seventeenth of March we celebrate Saint Patrick, and every year the same stories are told. It’s the shamrock-and-snakes version of our founding saint – always with images of the saintly bishop, in green, holding his crozier. These images are so familiar that Patrick himself has almost disappeared behind them.

This year I want to go back to an older Patrick — fierce, muscular, and considerably more dangerous. My source is the Lebar Brecc Homily on Saint Patrick, a medieval Irish text drawing on traditions going back to at least the ninth century (you can find it here). It was translated by the great nineteenth-century scholar Whitley Stokes, who invented his own register to convey something of the flavour of the medieval Irish. His is a language that occupies territory somewhere between modern and archaic, and for more of Stoke’s wonderful formulations you read my post The White Hound of Brigown. Stokes’ edition of 1887 (below) remains the standard text.

A homily is a text written to be preached, and you can feel that in the Lebar Brecc account: it moves fast and it assumes an audience who will understand a psalm citation or a liturgical reference.The Lebar Brecc is also long and dense so I have decided to focus on the incident where Patrick lights the paschal fire on the hill of Slane, and the aftermath of that deed. At that, I’ve even had to cut out some of the action.

The story opens with a small, touching detail (above). A little boy attaches himself to Patrick as he is about to leave, and his family simply hand him over. He is called Benén in the text but we know him better as St Benignus, who becomes Patrick’s close companion and eventually his successor as bishop (read a more academic account of him here). He is a minor figure at the beginning, but watch for him: he will reappear before the story is over.

Patrick travels to Ferta Fer Féicc (the place now known as the Hill of Slane, in County Meath) and there, on the eve of Easter, he kindles a fire. It seems a simple act, but there was a sacred law in Ireland that no fire might be lit anywhere in the country on that night until the ritual fire had been kindled first at Tara by the High King. Patrick’s fire, visible from Tara, is an act of direct political and spiritual provocation. The druids of Loegaire’s court (Stokes’ ‘wizards’) immediately grasp what it means: Unless yon fire be quenched before this night, he whose fire yon is shall have the kingdom of Ireland for ever.

What follows is an intense confrontation, and I will let Stokes’ translation carry it:

Then said the King, “ It shall not be so, but we will go to him and kill him. The king arises with his host to seek Patrick and kill him ; but they did not arrive before the end of night. When the king drew nigh his wizards said to him, “ Go not thou to him” say they, “ that it may not be a token of honour to him. But let him come to thee and let none rise up before him.” Thus was it done. When Patrick saw the horses and the chariots, he then sang this verse : ‘Hi in curribus et hi in equis, nos autem in nomine Domini Dei nostri magni [ ficabimur ].’ But, when Patrick came in to the assembly, only the son of Deg rose up before him, that is, Bishop Erc, who is (venerated) at Slane.

Wait, what! Bishop Erc? Haven’t we met him before, in tales of St Brendan? What is he doing in King Loegaire’s assembly? This is one of the strange time-shifts that features in this story. Despite all of us learning at school that Patrick brought Christianity to Ireland, it seems it was already here. In fact the Lebar Brecc talks about Palladius coming before Patrick, who arrived into a country where the faith already had a foothold, however marginal. Erc of Slane is almost certainly the same Erc who later baptised Saint Brendan and blessed his famous voyage westward. He is a hinge figure: witness to Patrick’s arrival and sponsor of Brendan’s departure. Erc’s rising is a public act of recognition which came at some personal risk.

Then came one of the wizards, to wit, Lochru, fiercely and angrily against Patrick, and reviled the Christian faith. Then holy Patrick said : “ 0 my Lord, it is Thou that canst do all things. In Thy power they are. It is Thou that sentest us hither. Let this ungodly one, who is reviling Thy name, be destroyed in the presence of all.”

Swifter than speech, at Patrick’s word, demons uplifted the wizard in the air, and they let him go (down) against the ground, and his head struck against a stone and dust and ashes were made of him in the presence of all, and trembling and terror intolerable seized the hosts that were biding there.

Now, Loegaire was enraged with Patrick, and went to kill him. When Patrick perceived the onfall of the heathen upon him, he then exclaimed, with a mighty voice, “ Exsurgat Deus et dissipentur inimici ejus”* Came a great earthquake and thunder there, and a wind, and scattered the chariots and the horses afar on every side, so that they came even to Brig Graide and Sliab Moenuimn, and they were all slaughtering each other through Patrick’s curse, and there were left along with the king but four persons only in that place, to wit, himself and his wife and two of his priests.

My goodness, this is definitely not the Patrick of Hail, glorious St. Patrick, dear Saint of our Isle; On us thy poor children bestow a sweet smile. Sorry – I have always had a soft spot for Frank Patterson – quick diversion into the shamrock-soaked images here.

In fact, Patrick’s behaviour here reminds me of St Fanahan, the White Hound of Brigown, with his head-battler and sparks flying from his teeth – which in turn reminds me of Cuchullain and his warp spasms. But I digress – let’s carry on now with the story.

When terror seized the queen she went to Patrick and said to him, ” 0 righteous one and 0 mighty one, kill not the king, for he shall submit to thee, and give thee thine own will.” The king came and gave his will to Patrick by word of mouth, but gave it not from his heart ; and he told Patrick to go after him to Tara that he might give him his will before the men of Ireland. That, however, was not what was biding in his mind, but to kill Patrick, for he left ambushes before him on every road from that to Tara.

Thereafter went Patrick (and his train of) eight, together with a gillie Benén, past all the ambushes, in the shape of eight deer and behind them one fawn with a white bird on its shoulder, that is, Benén with Patrick’s writing-tablets on his back ; and thereafter he went into Tara, the doors being shut, to the middle of the palace. The king was then feasting with the kingfolk of Ireland around him at this hightide, for that was the Feast of Tara.

No one rose up before Patrick at Tara except the kings poet, Dubthach Macculugair, and he believed and was baptized, and Patrick gave him a blessing.

Patrick is then called to the king’s couch that he might eat food. Howbeit Patrick refused not that. The wizard Lucatmoel put a drop of poison into Patrick’s cruse**, and gave it into Patrick’s hand. But Patrick blessed the cruse and inverted the vessel, and the poison fell thereout, and not even a little of the ale fell. And Patrick afterwards drank the ale.

And where have we met a white deer before – ah yes, that would be the story of St Gobnait, who will find ‘the place of her resurrection’ when she sees none white deer. The image of Benignus as the fawn with the white bird is a lovely one.

Thereafter the hosts fared forth out of Tara. Then said the wizard, “ Let us work miracles together that we may know which of us is the stronger.” “ So be it done,” said Patrick. Then the wizard brought snow over the plain till it reached men’s shoulders. Dixit Patricius to him : “ Put it away now if thou canst.” Dixit magus : “ I cannot till the same time to-morrow.”

“ By my debroth ” (that is, ‘ by my God of judgment,’) saith Patrick, “ it is in evil thy power lieth, and nowise in good.” Patrick blessed the plain, and the snow melted at once.

The wizard invoked demons, and over the plain he brought darkness that could be felt, and trembling and terror seized every one. Dixit Patricius , “Take away the darkness if thou canst.” The wizard replied,

“ I cannot till the same time to-morrow.” Patrick blessed the plain, and the darknesses at once depart, and the sun shone forth …. All who were there gave thanks to God and to Patrick.

The miracle contest between Patrick and the unnamed wizard outside Tara has the quality of a folk tale with its snow conjured and melted, darkness brought and dispersed, but the theological point is precise. The wizard can bring affliction but cannot remove it whereas Patrick can do both.

Then another counsel was taken, that is, to build a house in that hour, the half thereof fresh and the other withered, and to put the wizard into the fresh half with Patrick’s raiment about him, (and) to place Patrick’s gillie, Benén, into the withered half, with the wizard’s tunic about him.

. . .and fire was put into the house, and the fresh half is burnt with the wizard therein, and Patrick’s raiment which was about him was not burnt. But the withered half was not burnt, nor the gillie, but the wizard’s tunic which was about him was burnt.

The king grows terrible at the killing of the wizard, and he proceeds to kill Patrick. But God’s anger came against the ungodly folk, so that a multitude of them, twelve thousand, perished.

Terror then seized Loegaire, and he knelt to Patrick, and believed in God with (his) lips only, and not with a pure heart. All the rest, moreover, believe and were baptized.

The burning house episode is the climax. The wizard, wearing Patrick’s cloak, enters the half built of fresh green wood. Benignus, wearing the wizard’s tunic, enters the withered half. The green wood burns with the wizard inside it; Patrick’s cloak is unharmed. The withered wood does not burn; only the wizard’s tunic is destroyed. It is a reversal of every natural expectation, and the text presents it without comment, trusting the audience to get the significance of the miracle.

Patrick’s final words to Lóegaire, who has knelt and believed with his lips but not his heart, are worth a second look:

Patrick said to Loegaire, “ Since thou hast believed in God, length of life shall be given to thee in the kingdom. But in guerdon of thy disobedience aforetime, and because thou hast not received the baptism with desire, though thou believedst with thy lips, Hell shalt thou have, and from thy race till Doom there shall be neither sovranty nor chieftainship.”

This is not the Patrick of the greeting cards, but a figure of formidable authority, distinguishing between outward compliance and genuine conversion, and prepared to curse a king’s entire lineage on the basis of that distinction. The medieval Irish church that preserved and transmitted this story clearly wanted a Patrick of the kind of power to rival and surpass the druids’ (or wizards, in Stokes’ parlance) power to bend kings – power over fire and snow and darkness.

Maybe it’s time to reclaim that Patrick from the ‘dear saint of our isle’ with his shamrocks and raised hand in blessing. If this was the real Patrick, I suspect that when he raised his hand we would all be running for cover.

* “Let God arise and let his enemies be scattered” (psalm 68:1)

**A cruse is a small jar

Posted on March 8, 2026March 9, 2026
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Dalle de Verre in Ireland

Last week I introduced you to the modernist stained glass practice known as dalle de verre, and its beautiful realisation in St Augustine’s in Cork. It was the work of the world famous Gabriel Loire. To see what made him so renowned, just take a look at this project, or google the Symphonic Sculpture installation in Japan.

We have three more examples of Loire’s dalle de verre work in Ireland. In a now largely-unused church attached to the Dominican Convent in Belfast (above), we have his earliest Irish windows (1962) – 5 lights titled Resurrection, Redemption, Prediction, Nativity and Annunciation. They are hard to photograph and even harder to interpret – the titles were supplied to me by the Ateliers Loire.

For those used to traditional stained glass, dalle de verre represented a radical departure from their expectations and we must not underestimate the courage and vision of architects and congregations in embracing this avant-garde medium. Rather than a familiar depiction of a Resurrection, Annunciation, or St Patrick, what faced parishioners were swathes of deeply coloured glass sometimes with recognisable iconography, but often with difficult-to-interpret motifs, as in the Belfast windows.

And sometimes with nothing but colour variation to encourage a prayerful or contemplative mood. Gabriel Loire adopted the maxim, Arrange it so that in what you do, there is nothing, but in that nothing, there is everything each person seeks. His philosophy can be seen in action in the Holy Redeemer Church in Dundalk (above) (1965-68), an extraordinary modernist building with work by the best artists of the day. The success of the design can be credited to the architects, Frank Corr and Oonagh Madden, and the breadth of the art to Michael Wynne, who acted as advisor on the project. Works by Oisin Kelly (rooftop crucifixion), Imogen Stuart (exterior stations), Ray Carroll, and Michael Biggs adorn the exterior and interior, while floor to ceiling expanses of dalle de verre by Gabriel Loire provide, in Michael Wynne’s words, one great abstract symphony of colour.

Wynne goes on to say that the windows lend a rich mystical light to the whole interior and to comment on the splendid harmony that exists between the building and all the necessary adornments. Such a unity lends a dignity, a calm and prayerful mood to the building. *

In the Andrew Devane-designed church in St Patrick’s Campus of DCU in Drumcondra, also built in the mid 60s, the curved walls are punctuated by tall panels and a clerestory of dalle de verre. See the lead photo on this post (the one under the title) and the one below. While mostly abstract, some iconography has been incorporated by Loire into the windows.

Because thick lines of concrete are used to outline the images, they are semi-abstract rather than refined. The hand and the dove are clearly discernible in the tall central window, but it cannot be said that the dove is entirely successful – it looks to my eyes like a cartoonish dicky-bird – showing the difficulties of smaller-scale iconography with this medium.

But the Irish dalle de verre story goes beyond Gabriel Loire: other mid-century artists mastered it and were employed by Irish architects. I will show you two examples first by non-Irish artists. The Church of the Sacred Heart in Waterford – it also is my featured image (above the title) for this post – contains glass by the distinguished British artist Patrick Reyntiens. Here’s a detail, below of that window.

The second church is St Bernadette’s in Belfast, with glass by Dom Norris of Buckfast Abbey. This church is well worth a visit for its many artistic treasures.

Irish artists got in on the act too – George Walsh brought the techniques of dalle de verre back with him from America in the 60s and, working with Abbey studios, introduced it as an ecclesiastical art form into Irish architecture. Here is his Crown of Thorns for St Mary’s Westport, designed by George Campbell and executed by George.

Other studios, such as Murphy Devitt, also used it, and quite close to me I have this charming example in Lowertown church. It’s the Dove of Peace/Holy Spirit, of course, but it became known in the studio as the Holy Gannet.

Although for the most part the churches I have shown you have retained their dalle de verre windows, in at least two cases (the Sacred Heart in Waterford and St Bernadette’s in Belfast) this has come at the cost of enormously expensive conservation projects. In other cases, dalle de verre windows have failed and churches have even had to be demolished.

For example, the original Edmund Rice chapel in Waterford (above) had to be replaced but George Walsh’s dalle de verre windows were partially saved and displayed in the new church (below). George had combined dalle de verre in these windows with the innovative use of painted glass panels, and even some painting on the dalles.

Dalle de verre windows failed because glass, concrete and steel (used to reinforce the concrete frames of the panels) expand at different rates, and external glazed walls are subject to all the effects of weather. Over time resin was substituted for concrete but this brought its own problems – the epoxy mix had to be just right (and this was all still experimental) or it could, and did, twist and crack as the building settled. The Irish climate – high humidity, temperature fluctuation, driving rain – exacerbated all of these mechanisms, both for cement and resin mixes.

I recently visited a church in Keenaught Co Derry (or Londonderry for my NI readers). It has a soaring wall of dalle de verre windows designed by George Walsh and executed in the Abbey Studios in 1973. The likeness to the work of Gabriel Loire is obvious and indeed George credits Loire as a significant influence on him. The church is enormous and the tall narrow windows lend a beautiful ambience to the interior. However, the windows are buckling at the top and will need conservation work at some point.

On the same trip I visited a much smaller dalle de verre installation in Swanlinbar, also by George, still looking colourful and rock steady in a side chapel.

I’d love to hear from readers who have come across other examples of dalle de verre work. As an architectural material it held such promise and it is a tragedy that much of it is no longer standing. The Gabriel Loire window below is from Vancouver, part of a series in St Andrew’s Wesley on Burrard St, viewed on a visit there. I had been in that church for events on numerous occasions when I lived in Vancouver, but knew nothing about these fabulous windows at that point.

By the way, Ateliers Loire is still going strong in Chartres, now run by Gabriel’s grandsons, Bruno and Hervé. Take a look at their recent work. And for anyone looking to learn more about Gabriel Loire I recommend this book which is in French and English. [Update – see comment below re the cost of this book!]

Finally, some of the text (now lightly edited) in this and the previous post on dalle de verre was originally written for a 2021 article on Dalle de Verre in Ireland in Glass Ireland, a publication of the Glass Society of Ireland. The full article is available here.

* Wynne, M, The Church of the Redeemer, Dundalk, THE FURROW, vol. 20, no. 8, August 1969, pp.411- 414

Posted on March 1, 2026March 2, 2026
14 Comments

St Augustine’s Church in Cork and Gabriel Loire

This week the Augustinians in Ireland announced that they were permanently closing their Cork Church, St Augustine’s at the corner of Grand Parade and Washington Street. The decision, as far as I can see, is based on the inability of the order to attract more vocations – they no longer have the priests they need to keep the church going.

Why am I writing about the closing of a church in Cork? It’s because this is one of four buildings in Ireland (all churches) that contain the work of the internationally recognised dalle de verre master, Gabriel Loire, of Chartres in France (below). Let’s start with – what is dalle de verre?

Dalle de verre, sometimes simply called slab glass, is a stained glass technique that uses thick slabs (dalles) of coloured glass, arranged to form patterns and embedded in concrete or resin. Each slab is faceted by knocking spalls off it with a hammer. This is the same technique, by the way, used by flint knappers to make prehistoric tools. Due to the nature of conchoidal fracture, the spalls come off in concentric ripples, enlivening the colour through the layering and refracting of the light coming through from the outside. You can see how dalle de verre is made in this video or alternately in this one (which made me smile with that Pathé voice).

Figures and icons in dalle de verre windows are not normally painted as they would be in classic stained glass, but formed through the arrangement of the dalles and the cement lines. They are, by necessity, minimally detailed and windows are often non-figurative, relying on arrangements of colour and flow to suggest subject matter and create interest and atmosphere: thus, they also suited the mid-century artistic movements of abstraction and cubism.

The great advantage of dalle de verre is that it can be used as part of the integrated fabric of a building: that is, as a building material rather than a decorative detail. It lends itself to enormous expanses of glazing and to soaring verticality and this made it very attractive to twentieth century modernist architects. In Ireland several architects championed this new material and incorporated walls of dalle de verre in their churches from the 1960s on.

St Augustine’s church was designed by the Cork architect Dominic O’Connor and opened in 1942, on the site of a former church about which I can find no information. That’s what it looked like (above) when it opened (courtesy of the Echo). Thirty years later it was extended and refurbished (spot the difference!) and it was at this point, in 1971, under the supervision of the architect Patrick Whelan, that the Gabriel Loire windows were installed. Whelan turned to Gabriel Loire as the natural choice – not only was this his fourth (and final) Irish window, but by then he was acknowledged as the leading practitioner in the world of this art form.

The windows are enormous, floor to ceiling. From the outside (thanks to Piotr Slotwinski for the image above) the form of the artwork can be clearly seen as a complex swirl of patterns, delineated by the concrete lines.

Inside, the two windows are across from each other on either side of the altar. To see them properly you have to go right up to the front. At first, they look pretty much as they do from outside – a complex swirl of patterns. You immediately notice the dominance of a rich blue – stained glass artists know this as Chartres Blue. It was a favourite of Harry Clarke, and of course of Gabriel Loire, whose atelier was in Chartres, in the shadow of the Cathedral. The actual iconography is hard to pick out at first, but obvious once you see it. The street (or south) side is the Eucharist window (above). An enormous chalice in shades of gold against a ruby red background occupies the bottom third of the window above the doors.

Various sunburst motifs fill out the window (see the feature image, the one above the heading). The sunburst — or solar radiance motif — has layered meanings in Christian iconography. At its most fundamental it represents Christ as The Light of the World but it also becomes a metaphor for divine presence, grace, and the Transfiguration. The only other recognisable icon is an anchor. The anchor also functions as a cross around which a rope winds – a traditional image meant to convey that Christ is our anchor, but which could also be an homage to Cork’s great maritime heritage.

The north side window is the Alpha and Omega window. The Alpha and Omega symbols are clear, and above them is an enormous mandorla, which takes up most of the window. There is also a star (my lead image at the top of the post under the heading) – indicating a contrasting nighttime theme across from the sunburst of the south window. The mandorla in Christian iconography is highly significant. It is the form used to frame Christ in Majesty and also the Virgin in Glory. Taken together with the Alpha and Omega, this window can be interpreted as concerned with Christ as beginning and end, first and last, the eternal sovereign.

That’s actually a very deliberate and sophisticated arrangement – the altar sits between the two windows, with the congregation facing west. Thus, one could see it as the celebrant and congregation being held between the Eucharistic presence (south) and the cosmic Christ in Majesty (north). In this reading, the windows are doing active liturgical and theological work in relation to the altar and the gathered community.

The architect, Patrick Whelan, (that’s him below with Des O’Malley) was working in the post-Vatican II era which set off a renaissance in how art and architecture was to come together to modernise the liturgy and glorify God. It is obvious he thought carefully about the integration of art and architecture, resulting in a unified modernist sacred space, not just an extension with some windows added. In this, he had the perfect collaborator in Gabriel Loire.

If St Augustine’s is lost (and I have no idea what is to happen to it) we are losing a coherent ensemble where architecture, liturgical arrangement, and art were conceived together, very much the spirit of the post-Vatican II liturgical reform movement. The altar brought forward, the community gathered around it, art serving the liturgy rather than decorating the walls: Loire and Whelan were clearly working in that spirit. The closure of the church therefore represents not just the loss of two windows but the loss of a complete and largely intact example of that mid-century liturgical vision.

I said at the beginning that this was one of four Gabriel Loire Churches in Ireland. Next week I will show you the others, and say a little more about dalle de verre – its advantages for architecture and what led to its ultimate decline.

Posted on February 22, 2026February 22, 2026
11 Comments

Ballinacarriga Castle Part 2

The romantic situation of Ballinacarriga Castle, and its relative intactness, meant that it was a favourite of antiquarians and travellers. There was a great appetite in the nineteenth century for images and accounts of all things to do with Irish antiquities – we were rediscovering our past and revelling in the realisation that we had a proud and significant heritage. Two of those illustrators, William Frazer and James Stark Fleming, visited and drew Ballinacarriga for their series on castles and other antiquities. Fleming, a Scottish solicitor and a constant visitor to Ireland was an accomplished watercolour artists and architectural historian. In all, he produced 10 volumes of drawings of Irish castles*. His sketches ( like the one below) were made on the spot.

William Frazer was also a prolific illustrator but his sketches were sometimes based on other drawings (such as by du Noyer) or on photographs. His interior scene is a lovely wash. Both the lead images are by Frazer, and the Fleming and Frazer drawings are included here courtesy of the National Library of Ireland

And yes, the interior – let’s go back inside the castle (see Part 1 for the exterior). Before we leave the level under the vault, let’s take a look at the interior render, still in place on the walls. It’s a reminder that those walls would have been lime-rendered in white, which would really have helped with visibility inside.

A mural chamber (room within the walls) at the top of the stairway also has a vault and here we can see exactly how the vault was constructed.

A scaffolding of wicker was erected first and a layer of mortar laid on top of that. Ceiling stones were laid on the scaffold and mortared into place and then the stone work was built up to provide the floor of the next story.

When the scaffold was dismantled the impression of the wicker was left on the mortar – and in this case it looks like some of the wicker stayed behind as well.

Another mural chamber contained the castle’s indoor plumbing. In the last post we saw the exit of the garderobe chute. Here is the garderobe itself – it would have had a wooden seat for comfort.

Another way of getting rid of rubbish was to have a slop chute and there is one here, close to what may have been an interior cooking area.

But the real glory of the castle is the top floor. The function of this chamber, sometimes called a solar, was for the chief and his family to entertain visitors and to conduct business.

Hospitality was an important obligation of all the great Irish houses and a drawing on the information board at Ballinacarriga shows how this room may have been used for feasting and discussions.

And here we meet more carvings – yes, there are two more window embrasures with carvings on this level. On a window on the north side there is an inscription that gives the date of 1585, and the initials R.M. C.C. for Randal Muirhily (Hurley) and his wife Catherine O Cullane (we met Catherine last week). So this is likely when all the carvings were done.

This room may also have been used as a private chapel. The clue is in the nature of the remaining carvings. The window on the South side has a crucifixion on the east end, but the whole surround is carved with stylised foliage and scroll patterns. While it is difficult to photograph this, the information board has a great illustrations (even if backwards from how it is viewed).

The crucifixion and other religious iconography (more of that in a minute) is a remarkable and unique element in this castle. After the Reformation got underway, and starting around the 1530s iconoclasts destroyed anything in the way of religious representational art they could get their hands on. It’s the reason we have no Medieval stained glass left in Ireland. That’s right – not a single window, nothing but a few scraps of glass that have turned up in excavations.

Crucifixion images were particularly anathema to the Protestant reformers. What survived those rampages fell victim to the Cromwellian Puritans from the 1640s on, like the destruction of St Canice’s Cathedral above – once renowned for its great East Window.

The location of the Crucifixion carving is probably the key to its survival — tucked inside a West Cork tower house, it was simply inaccessible to reforming zeal. And the date of 1585 is actually rather bold, coming right in the thick of the Elizabethan push. It could even be read as a deliberate act of Catholic defiance by the Hurleys, which adds another layer of significance.

The crucifixion scene actually looks a little archaic – more like a Romanesque carving than a 16th century one. That may have been because local craftsmen were working in a persistent native tradition rather than following Continental Renaissance trends. Jesus on the cross is flanked by Mary and John. The carving is naive, the hands are disproportionately large and the feet are pointing sideways. There is a checkerboard pattern as background. I have provided a black and white image as well as the colour photo, in case that helps.

Equally intriguing is the Arma Christi, or Instrument of the Passion panel on the opposite (north) wall. This is a motif that is also familiar from much later 18th century headstones. It was a particular favourite of the Franciscans, and the Hurleys may well have had good relationships with the friaries in Bantry or Timoleague, and a Franciscan confessor (pure speculation on my part).

While I have seen assertions that the top panel features images of Mary and St Paul, I have pored over them and see only the familiar elements of the Instruments of the Passion. From left to right, on the bottom panel (below) I see the pillar and ropes used to bind Christ, the ladder, the crown of thorns, the hammer (with a hammer end and a pincer end), and a heart pierced by crossed swords.

On the upper panel (below) I see the cock and the pot, the spear, a nail behind the spear, the crucified Christ, and the flail. The thing that looks like a boot to the left of Christ has me stumped, as do hints of other elements. It looks like a checkerboard background is used, which would indicate it is of the same exact vintage and by the same hands as the crucifixion on the opposite window.

Please – dear readers, tell me what you see – I love to be educated and corrected in these matters. Apparently, this room was used as a chapel by local people. The author of the piece in the Dublin Penny Journal says Up to 1815, (when the chapel of Ballinacarrig was built,) divine service was performed for a series of years in the hall of the castle. There is a strong local tradition that that was, indeed, the case. By the way, the whole piece in the 1834 Dublin Penny Journal is highly improbable and equally entertaining. You can read it freely here.

Ballinacarriga Castle is in many ways a typical West Cork 15th/16th Century tower house. What make it unique and a national treasure are the carvings, and the hints they give of a secret life away from the prying eyes of the conquerer.

* Available here: https://catalogue.nli.ie/Collection/vtls000245965

Posted on February 15, 2026February 17, 2026
12 Comments

Ballinacarriga Castle Part 1

It’s been a long time since I wrote about a castle – you might like to refresh your memory about castles in West Cork, with a quick read of some of the posts on this page. They contain all kinds of details about castle architecture and lay-out, as well as the history of many of our West Cork castles.

The castle I am writing about today, Ballinacarriga, is one of the best preserved and has many unusual details. It’s located just south of the Bandon River, between Dunmanway and Enniskean. The black and white illustration at the top of the post is from The Dublin Penny Journal of 1834. The sepia photo is from James Healy’s notebook, upon which he based his book Castles of Cork. (Reproduced by kind permission of Cork County Council Library and Arts Service.) Unfortunately, the castle is normally only really viewable from the outside, as it is quite hazardous to navigate internally. I have been very lucky indeed to have been able to visit it, including the interior, a couple of times, most recently in the company of eminent archaeologist and medievalist, Con Manning. Con was able to point out to me several features that I would not have understood on my own.

This is a ‘ground entry’ castle – they were built later than the ‘raised entry’ castles of the O’Mahonys and are consequently more designed for comfort (fireplaces!) and more likely to be inland rather than coastal. This one was a castle of the Hurley (Ó Muirthile) clan, although it may also have been built (or acquired, or relinquished) by the McCarthys. The Hurleys managed to hang on to it until the mid-1600s when it was seized by forfeiture and handed over to the Crofts. The castle shows up in Jobson’s Map of Munster, completed around 1584, noted as Benecarick Castle – can you see it? It’s right where it should be, but don’t forget that this map has south on the left and north on the right.

One authority says that the tower was probably built in the late 1400s and the upper floors modified in the later 1500s but that is not obvious from an examination of the architecture. Let’s look at the outside first for some of the unusual features of this castle – beginning with the Sheela-na-gig (for more on Sheelas see our post Recording the Sheelas).

The Sheela can be seen in the image of the front of the castle above, between the second and third windows (from the bottom) on the right hand side. Here’s a 3D rendering by the marvellous Digital Heritage Age 3D Sheela project. It’s great to have this, as the Sheela on the castle is high up and hard to see in any detail. Its placement does seem to suggest that it was there to ward off the evil eye, one of the many theories about the function of Sheela-na-gigs.

The door, as mentioned above, is at ground level – this necessitated different kinds of defences than a raised entry which could only be accessed via a stairway that could be detached and thrown away from the castle. Ballinacarriga had an iron gate that could be pulled across the door from inside, via a hole in the stone surround.

This feature was known as a yett. The chain that pulled it closed was managed by a sentry in a small sentry room to the left of the doorway. There is no sign of a murder hole above the entry lobby, as there is, for example, at Kilcrea.

Outside, we can see other defensive feature – bartizans, which are small projecting turrets at the corners, and a space that probably held a machicolation (like a bartizan but on a straight stretch of wall) over the door.

We also see the base batter and a garderobe chute (above) – chute exits are normally near the ground but this one emptied its content at first floor level, leading no doubt to a foul-smelling area that had to be regularly cleaned by an unfortunate individual.

Inside the main space is vaulted and there are at least two floors under it and a possible third or mezzanine floor. The second floor must have been a residential space as it contains an impressive fireplace.

In a window surround at this same level (the arched one to the right of the fireplace) we can see the first of several carvings. It’s a figure of a woman with five rosettes, interpreted as Catherine O Cullane and her children. It’s an extraordinary detailed carving and I couldn’t help searching the internet to see if I could find analogous illustrations – and I did!

Obviously Catherine enjoyed the height of contemporary fashion. The black and white illustration shows her French hood and apron, while the Holbein portrait is a good representation of her puffy sleeves and open collar.

There are more carvings and more features to come – part 2 next week!

First: French woman from Habitus Nostrae Aetatis by Enea Vico, c. 1556. Available here: https://www.meisterdrucke.ie/fine-art-prints/Enea-Vico/1328771/Galla-Woman-%28title-on-object:-Galla-mul%28ier%29%29-A-Married-Woman-from-France,-Dressed-in-the-Fashion-of-ca.-1550-%28series-title:-Diversarum-gentium-nostrae-aetatis-habitus%29.html

Second: Holbein, Hans 1535. Portrait of a lady, probably of the Cromwell Family formerly known as Catherine Howard. Public Domain

Posted on February 8, 2026
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Planning a Hedgerow

A very quick post tonight – the ‘settling in’ is taking a little longer that I planned. I know everyone understands how that is, when you move house. Today I discovered that my driveway is lined with crocuses (OK, croci for the purists) – enough to lift your heart.

One of the things I need to do is plan a hedgerow for the back of the house. Of course, I want it to be instant and consisting of all native Irish species. Like the Guelder Rose, above and below. Turns out, those two things are not compatible, so my plan is to plant a fast growing hedge, preferably evergreen and intersperse it with native Irish trees, which are mostly deciduous.

Fortunately, there’s a lot of helpful information available to anyone wanting to do this, on the Hedgerows Ireland website, and I will be following their advice as much as I can. I have a head start in that I have several Hazel trees – my feature photo today is the tiny scarlet female flowers that appear above the catkins on Hazel trees in the spring.

One of the trees I will be ordering is the spectacular Spindle – above is the fruit and below the autumn leaves. I only know of one wild tree near here and I visit it every year.