West Cork Blog

Yeats’ Day

Yeats country – Benbulben and Classiebawn Castle (above). Finola took this fine view seven years ago, when we set out to visit the haunts of William Butler Yeats. We have to turn to Yeats now, as it’s exactly one hundred years since he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature – in December, 1923. I have carried a place in my heart for Yeats, ever since I was at Primary School on the Hampshire/Surrey borders, not far from Thomas Hardy’s Wessex. Yeats and Hardy were rivals for the coveted award – the final vote in 1923 was between the two of them: in the end, only two Nobel committee members voted for Hardy, and Yeats achieved the prize. The Guardian newspaper said that “…Mr Yeats is to be congratulated, almost without reserve, on lifting this substantial stake. He is a poet of real greatness; prose, too, he can write like an angel…”, however then arguing that Thomas Hardy would have been a worthier recipient of the award!

The Irish press congratulates Yeats on his achievement (above – Irish Independent 29.11.1923). My schoolboy encounter with the poet must have been when I was around ten years old and we were tasked to learn The Lake Isle of Inisfree. I can still recite it, word for word, to this day, sixty seven years later. But it was far more than mere words for me, then. Our teacher – Mr Sharpe – was careful to explain that this man was cooped up in the city of London – on its “pavements grey” and was yearning for the countryside he loved:

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

Inisfree serves the poet’s romantic dreams of a remote idyllic landscape far away from the noisy metropolis. It does exist as a place – on Lough Gill in Co Sligo: Yeats spent childhood summers nearby. Interestingly, I searched the internet for pics of the island, and the above came up. It’s from a Roaringwater Journal Post which I wrote in 2016. And it’s not Inisfree, but another ‘lake island’ – just outside Skibbereen, in West Cork – Cloghan Castle Island on Lough Hyne: there’s a holy well nearby, and an 8th century church dedicated to St Brigid – but all that is another story. The diversion just serves to warn against trusting what you find online!

Thoor Ballylee Tower, Co Galway (above) – this 14th century tower house was described by Seamus Heaney, another Irish Nobel Literature prize winner, as The most important building in Ireland, because of its associations with Yeats, who spent many summers there with his family.

Here is the finely crafted cover of The Tower: a book of poems by W B Yeats, published in 1928 (courtesy Yeats Thoor Ballylee Society). The Tower was Yeats’s first major collection as Nobel Laureate after receiving the Nobel Prize in 1923. It is considered to be one of the poet’s most influential volumes and was well received by the public. (Below) a 1917 drawing by Robert Gregory – son of Isabella Augusta (Lady) Gregory and Sir William Gregory of Coole Park, Co Galway – of The Tower (courtesy Yeats Thoor Ballylee Society).

Going back to my early school years: I was an incurable romantic, and a daydreamer. I paid enough attention to lessons to get by, but my heart lay outside the school gates. Just minutes away were hop-fields and, beyond those, pastures, woodlands, streams – idyllic places where I loved to wander. I could completely relate to Yeat’s desire to be far away from the city, and that’s why his poem appealed to me. I knew very little about Ireland, and had no idea that was where I would one day make my home. I am here now, sitting at my desk, with the hills and oceans of Yeats’ own country beyond.

W B Yeats and his wife George Hyde-Lees heard the news that the Nobel Prize had been awarded to him on 14 November, 1923. The photograph above (courtesy Irish Independent) is said to be taken on that day. It’s also said that they celebrated by cooking sausages! The Irish Independent records: “Irish poet and senator, William Butler Yeats created history when he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, the first Irish citizen to achieve such an accolade. The prize was awarded to Yeats ‘for his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation’.”

Somewhat surprised by the award, Yeats would later write in his (unpublished) autobiography: “Early in November (1923) a journalist called to show me a printed paragraph saying that the Nobel Prize would probably be conferred upon Herr Mann, the distinguished novelist, or upon myself, I did not know that the Swedish Academy had ever heard my name.” The news of the award was widely praised in Ireland with members of Dáil Éireann proudly announcing that it had placed Ireland on the international stage. It was a sentiment reiterated by the laureate himself, who at the awards ceremony claimed that the Nobel Prize was less for himself than for his country and called it Europe’s welcome to the Free State. In his presentation speech, Per Hallstrom, then chairman of the academy’s Nobel Committee, praised the poet’s ability to ‘follow the spirit that early appointed him the interpreter of his country, a country that had long waited for someone to bestow on it a voice’.

A portrait of Yeats painted by Augustus John OM RA in 1930 (courtesy Sothebys – private collection). Before Yeats passed away he requested that his final resting place be in Sligo. He died in Menton, France in 1939 aged 73 and was buried there. His wish was fulfilled in 1948 when his body was exhumed and buried in St Columba’s Church, Drumcliff. His headstone reads:

Cashels in Kerry 4: Staigue

Our last, and most magnificent, cashel in this series is Staigue. Majestic, imposing and mysterious, it sits at the head of a long valley with views down to the sea, almost 4kms away.

Staigue is the one that has never been excavated, and so it is the one that we can project our own speculations on regarding its age, its function, and its association with the fairies.

The thing that distinguishes Staigue from the other Cashels in Kerry I have written about so far is its sheer size. It’s what provokes awe. The first to write about it, in 1821, was the then-landowner F C Bland, who said:

When the appearance of the country, which is barren and uninviting, is considered, it must create surprise, what could have been the inducement to erect such a structure in such a place; and, when the  traveller, whose curiosity has supported him through a long journey, the latter part of which for ten or twelve miles has been through a wild, uncultivated, though not an uninteresting country, first approaches it, he experiences a sensation of disappointment. For it stands a single object on a hill, and from its figure (being round) producing but little effect of light and shade; and, having no familiar object by which to measure its magnitude, and its importance being rather diminished by the extent and desolation of the surrounding scenery, he attaches a meaner opinion to it than it deserves. But when he enters it, he is struck with astonishment; and his imagination almost instantly transports him to distant ages lost in remote antiquity. He vainly endeavours to figure, in his “mind’s eye,” the beings who erected it, their manners, habits, and costume; until, “lost and bewildered in the fruitless search,” his mind returns to sober investigation, again to lapse into conjecture. This effect is not lost by familiarity:—I have visited it a hundred times, and have always experienced the same sensation.

Description of a remarkable Building, on the north side of Kenmare river commonly called Staigue Fort. Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, Vol XIV, Dublin, 1825

I know how he felt. Bland did a series of measurements and drawings of the fort, and they provide a charming antiquarian look at how it was 200 years ago, when it had been in use as a cattle pound. That’s one of his drawing at the head of this post. Here’s another.

But his account is more than charming – it provides an indication of how the fort looked at that time (even though the drawings are not exactly accurate). This is important because we need to know what interventions have been made over the years to the fort – interventions that can significantly altar the profile and appearance of the fort, as we have seen in the other three. For example, he referred to an ‘eve stone’ a term that is unfamiliar to me, and said:

In one part, where the wall is perfect, it is surmounted  by a projecting eve stone, which, when complete, must have added greatly to the effect of the whole. This is indeed the only attempt at ornament in the entire building.

His own drawing do not show any special feature and whatever it was, no really obvious eve stone has survived the two centuries since he wrote this account. However, the National Monuments record does state The rampart stands to a maximum external height of 5.7m at N, where both Bland and Dunraven noted a number of coping stones projecting slightly over its inner wall-face (1825, 18-19; 1875, 24). Two of these remain in situ, and average 1m x .4m x .08m thick. Perhaps I need to go back and take a closer look.

The good news is that, of all the cashels we have examined so far in this series, Staigue seems to have remained most true to its original state. That is not to say it is identical to how it was 200 years ago – it has been tidied and stabilised, although when and by whom remains uncertain. There is a suggestion that Bland himself employed local workmen to do some restoration work, and another that the OPW did some in the 19th century. 

While no records of these works remain, overall, the fort looks similar now to the older images we have of it. Historic edifices like Staigue cannot be left to crumble if significant numbers of people are visiting it. Sooner or later, as people climb on the walls, knocking off stones, it will deteriorate, creating a safety hazard and a dangerous situation for the monument itself. 

The trick is to intervene as sensitively as possible while still providing safe access and I would say that this has been done well at Staigue, although readers may want to weigh on on this question. The photos above and below are from the Irish Tourist Board collection (used in compliance with their Creative Commons License) – they amply demonstrate that climbing on the walls was as irresistible in 1964 as it is now. The ditch around the fort is also quite obvious in the aerial photo.

In essence, Staigue is similar to the other Cashels, with massive walls, two internal rooms or ‘cells’ in the walls, an entrance through the walls on the south side, and sets of stairs giving access to the top of the walls.

The stairs – the Irish word staighre (pronounced sty-rah) may have given the cashel its name – are the most striking feature. Commonly referred to a X-pattern, the first set lead up to a flat ‘landing’ from where the next set take off in both directions. You can see this really well in this 3D model of Staigue done by The Discovery Program. The image below is a still from the model – click here to go to it – it’s fun to manipulate it for yourself.

The entrance, surmounted by not one but two massive lintels, leads through the south wall, with a slightly inclined profile. The walls is lowest at this point. 

The two mural chambers are to the left of the entrance and opposite it. Their use is unclear, but they may have functioned, like souterrains, as cold storage for food.

We do not know what buildings may have been inside the fort, although, as we saw in the other three, it was common for these cashels to have houses, whether for dwelling or for ceremonial use (as at Cahergal) or both. It is highly likely that any future excavation of Staigue would reveal similar constructions. The OPW sign (extract below) makes that assumption and says The fort was the home of the chieftain’s family, guards and servants, and would have been full of houses, out-buildings, and possibly tents or other temporary structures.

You remember our old friend General Vallancey from Beranger’s West Cork? In that post I told you that he was an antiquarian of the fanciful sort – forever banging on about druids and Chaldeans and coming up with far-fetched theories. In fact he pronounced Staigue to be a Phoenician amphitheatre! Perhaps Bland’s romantic illustration, below, put him in mind of such an interpretation.

Westropp, one of whose main activities was bringing common sense to antiquarian discourse, in a series on forts written between 1896 and 1901, situated Staigue very much in line with other stone forts on the Western seaboard. The photograph below is from that series. He acknowledges the defensive nature of the huge walls, but declined to use what he saw as the simplistic term “fortress”.

As for their use as cattle pens (as Bland had suggested), he says:

It was, however, not unusual to keep the cattle in the residential fort; we find this in legend, as in the case of the cattle of Iuchna the curly-haired, and in that story, so often quoted, of the three forts of Ventry. What is stronger evidence is that the ancient laws of Ireland made provision for seizing cattle kept in forts, and even for keeping them impounded therein on dark nights. That this extended to later times we have seen in the fort-names Cahernagree, Lisnagry, &c., and perhaps even in the “pounds” of Dartmoor and the local name for Staigue fort “Pounda-na-Staigue.”


The Ancient Forts of Ireland: Being a Contribution towards Our Knowledge of Their Types, Affinities, and Structural Features. (Plates LII. to LIX.). Author(s): Thomas Johnson Westropp Source: The Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, 1896/1901, Vol. 31 (1896/1901)

Westropp saw these forts as having multiple uses, much as Con Manning did more recently – places of assembly, of ceremony, and, if a dwelling, that of a high status individual. Indeed the command of resources it would have taken to build Staigue is staggering. The fact that it was surrounded by an outside ditch (no longer very obvious) might also add to its indentification as defensive. The photo below is from a 1950 piece by Angus Graham (Some Illustrated Notes from Kerry, in
The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, Vol. 81, No. 2 (1951), pp. 139-145)

We have seen that the three other Kerry Cashels have been dated to the Early Medieval and Medieval period: Leacanabuaile to the 9th and 10th centuries, Cahergal in use between the 7th and 9th centuries and again during the 11th and 14th, and Loher from 400 to 1600. It is puzzling therefore, that the OPW sign at the fort assigns a likely date of the early centuries AD before Christianity came to Ireland. In other words, the Iron Age. This assertion, of an Iron Age date, is repeated in various online sources about Staigue (including an even more vaguely worded reference to “during the Celtic Period.”). There is no evidence that Staigue was built significantly earlier than the other Kerry Cashels. In all likelihood, it belongs in the same medieval tradition of cashel-building.

If you get to Kerry, go visit all four of these remarkable testaments to our past. You will find yourself wondering at the context in which they were built, and the complex and highly stratified society in which resources could be marshalled to build something that would serve to remind all who saw it, who’s in charge here!

All four posts in this series can be found here.

Cashels in Kerry 3: Loher

I had the opportunity to visit Loher Fort in Kerry recently, so I have decided to expand this Cashels in Kerry series to four and I’m including it in the list. I’m leaving Staigue till last.

Loher Fort was excavated for four seasons in the 1980s by an archaeologist from UCC. Yes, that’s right, four seasons! You might reasonably expect, therefore that this would be the fort that would yield a thick report full of details and illustrations of what was found, some radiocarbon dates, some historical context – but shockingly, the only report ever forthcoming was a few paragraphs provided to Excavations.ie. I quote it in full now.

The fourth season of excavation was completed during 1985. The site may be classed as a cashel, 20m in internal diameter, with rampart walls, 2m thick.

Prior to excavation the interior of the site was composed of stone fill to a depth of 2m. On removing this fill, 2 stone structures were uncovered. Both of these had walls surviving to a height of 1m and 1m in thickness. One structure is circular (clochan type) and the other rectangular. The circular structure is c. 5m in diameter and the rectangular structure is 7m x 6m in extent.

The interiors of both these structures have been excavated. This revealed no great depth of occupation deposit but did reveal a good stratigraphic sequence of structures. Essentially, there are 5 identifiable structures including the above two. In the area of the surviving circular structure, an earlier stone-built circular structure was uncovered. This was pre-dated by a wooden structure constructed of driven stakes.

The rectangular structure was pre-dated by a circular wooden house, again of driven stakes. There is also the possibility of another post-built structure in this area. Apart from the above mentioned stratigraphic relationships, the latest circular structure pre-dates the rectangular stone structure. Other features include a souterrain associated with the circular house, and a parapet walkway and mural steps.

Finds include glass beads and a tanged knife. Organic material includes shell, carbonised seed remains, fish scales and fish bones.

https://excavations.ie/report/1985/Kerry/0000602/

That’s it – that’s all we know, apart from a very broad assigned date in the overview of Medieval (AD 400-AD 1600). 

Interestingly archaeologist Aoibheann Lambe, the rock art expert, has identified a number of pieces of rock art in an around the fort, including on stones used as building materials. While these pre-date for fort by several thousand years, it is evidence that people were living in this area for millennia. It’s easy to see why – it’s a spectacular setting, with access to the sea and a location that provides a strategic point of domination over the surrounding landscape.

As at Leacanabuaile, there was also a souterrain, although there is no indication on the ground now of where it was, and we have no record of what it looked like and no plan. It was under the round house, which is the earlier of the two houses. Here’s what the National Monuments records says about that:

The entrance to a souterrain is located in the W half of the interior of the house. Measuring 1.1m x 1.3m, it gives access to a drystone-built lintelled passage, 1m high, which runs E-W for 3m before turning sharply to N. The excavation revealed that the construction of the souterrain post-dated that of the house, and that an earlier stone-built circular structure in the area of the house was, in turn, pre-dated by a wooden structure constructed of driven stakes.*

What is a souterrain exactly? As the name suggests, it’s a man-made underground passage, often associated with ringforts and cashels. They may have had a variety of uses, but perhaps the main one was as a root cellar to preserve food. That’s me, above emerging from one of the most famous of of our Irish souterrains, Oweynagat at Rathcroghan. They’re a common class of archaeological monument – there are over 1,000 in Cork and over 800 in Kerry. Folklore is rich with stories of souterrains that stretch for miles, that end up in the sea or in a nearby castle, but alas although we know of complex examples with passages leading to multiple chambers, most are quite short and contained within the general area of the ringfort. For more on souterrains, see this wonderful site. 

There was also a covered drain leading from the fort entrance to the house, and another between the two houses. Not quite the fine paving that was found at Cahergal, but certainly a way of keeping your feet dry on what were no doubt well-worn paths. There’s no mention of this in the brief report, but obviously the OPW, who conducted the reconstruction, knew about this, as did National Monuments who commissioned the interpretive plaque. Is there, in fact, more information available somewhere? I would be happy to stand corrected.

The walls and stone steps, which are a standout feature of these Kerry Cashels, are described in the National Monuments record. Note they use the word Caher instead of Cashel – both mean ‘stone fort.’

Caher Wall: This consists of a rubble core faced internally and externally with random courses of well-built drystone masonry. Much of the external face, which is battered, is concealed by a substantial build-up of collapse and field-clearance material. The wall, which is up to 4m in basal thickness, varies in external height from 1m to 2.5m and internally from 2.5m to 3.3m. A lintel-covered paved entrance passage. . . leads into the interior of the site from SSE. A terrace, reached by means of seven inset arrangements of opposing steps, occurs on the internal face of the caher wall at an average height of 1.3m. The arrangements of steps occur at irregularly spaced intervals, and the individual sections of the terrace to which they give access average .6m wide. Traces of a short section of a second terrace, also furnished with steps, occur above the first in the N sector of the wall.*

Because we have no access to a proper excavation report, we don’t know how closely the reconstruction efforts at Loher were based on the findings. However, from the little information we have it seems that what we see now on the ground is a reflection of what was left after multiple periods of occupation, one of which (perhaps the earliest phase) included a house built with wooden stakes. 

Like Leacanabuaile and Cahergal, it seems that once the excavation is over, the OPW moves in and ensures that what is left, if it is to be open to the public is made safe for visitors. If that was all they did, we might all, perhaps, be a little less confused now about what these forts looked like originally. But the instinct to reconstruct is strong, as well as the perceived need to tidy up the place, round off sharp corners and keep the grass trimmed to golf course standards. The information plaques the National Monuments folk provide are exceptionally well designed and full of welcome information.

What we can say is that it’s a wonderful site, impressively built and situated, and adds to the sum total of what knowledge we have of how high-status individuals constructed statement dwellings or ceremonial spaces for themselves in medieval Ireland. 

  • The description is taken from the online inventory maintained by National Monument for all archaeology sites in Ireland, available to search here:

All four posts in this series can be found here.

Exploring Ancient Drowned Landscapes

‘Drowned Landscapes’ – that’s an adequate enough description for us to look again at a subject which RWJ covered five years ago in this post: Tralong Bay, Co Cork – give it a read. I was reminded of the subject when we took part in an Archaeology Festival based in West Kerry just a week ago: Amanda’s current holy well blog describes the expeditions. One of the sites visited was Bunaneer Drowned Forest, where we saw stumps of trees on the beach there which were alive thousands of years ago. At low tide many tree remains become visible at Bunaneer, near Castlecove village on the south coast of Kerry’s Iveragh Peninsula. Our guides for this expedition were plant biologist Calum Sweeney and archaeologist Aoibheann Lambe.

This large jumble of roots (above) is known as Goliath. All the remains here can be seen at regular low tides: at other similar sites elsewhere in Ireland, remains of ancient tree boles and roots are only revealed when tides are exceptionally low. I find it remarkable to be able to see and readily touch these archaic pieces of timber: we are communing with distant history!

Carbon dating has shown that these remains were alive between three and a half and five millennia ago. This is evidence that sea levels were significantly lower then, and that the shore line was further out – perhaps 50 metres from where we see it today. We are constantly – and quite rightly – being warned about rising sea levels resulting from our changing climate in the long term: here we see clear verification that it’s a continuing – and now apparently accelerating – process.

Our friends Robin and Sue Lewando were also on this expedition. Robin has a particular interest in sea-level changes in the Late Quaternary and subsequent eras, and he pointed me to a 2015 paper which explores the subject specifically in the Bantry Bay area of West Cork. That’s a good place to be looking at ancient history: remember the story of Cessair – Noah’s daughter-in-law – who came ashore at Donemark? You first read about it here! So this is a scientific diagram which sets out how sea-levels have been changing over time in our locality:

It’s an interesting comparison to take our horizons wider in our study of changing sea levels across the islands of Ireland. Over on the east coast – north of Bray, Co Wicklow – there is another substantial area where tree remains have been revealed at certain tidal conditions.

Above are the areas of beach between Bray and Killiney where ‘drowned forest’ remains have been observed. While at Youghal, Co Cork, further finds have occured:

This example catches our interest because the name of the settlement – Youghal – is derived from the Irish word ‘Eochaill’ meaning ‘Yew Woods’: they were evidently once common in the area, leading us to wonder whether the tree remains in this instance are of yew. In 2014 the following account of another ‘ancient drowned forest’ discovery appeared in the Irish Times (photograph courtesy of Joe O’Shaughnessy):

. . . Walking out on to the shoreline at low tide, geologist Prof Mike Williams points to the oak, pine and birch stumps and extensive root systems which were once part of woodlands populated by people, wolves and bears. These woodlands extended out into lagoons and marshlands that pre-dated the formation of Galway bay, Prof Williams says.

An extensive layer of peat also exposed at low tide in the same location in Spiddal was formed by organic debris which once carpeted the forest floor. The stumps at Spiddal are surrounded by root systems which are largely undisturbed. The carpet of peat is covered in strands of a reed called phragmites, which can tolerate semi- saline or brackish conditions.

“These trees are in their original growth position and hadn’t keeled over, which would suggest that they died quite quickly, perhaps in a quite rapid sea level rise,” Prof Williams adds. Up until 5,000 years ago Ireland experienced a series of rapid sea level rises, he says. During the mid-Holocene period, oak and pine forests were flooded along the western seaboard and recycled into peat deposits of up to two metres thick, which were then covered by sand.

Prof Williams estimates that sea level would have been at least five metres lower than present when the forests thrived, and traces of marine shell 50cm below the peat surface suggest the forest floor was affected by very occasional extreme wave events such as storm surges or tsunamis. He says most west coast sand-dune systems date to a “levelling” off period in sea level change about 5,000 years ago. Dunes in Doolin, Co Clare, are older still, having first formed around 6,500 years ago.

Prof Williams has located tree stumps in south Mayo and Clare, along with Galway, which have been carbon dated to between 5,200 and 7,400 years ago at the chrono centre at Queen’s University, Belfast. Some of the trees were nearly 100 years old when they perished . . .

Lorna Siggins
Irish Times 07/03/2014

Goliath, West Kerry, November 2023

Beware!

It’s time for another review of signs we see around us. Signs are often put up to warn us to be careful (there are some of those here), but they don’t always need words. This large fishy fellow above looks as if he might bite! And I’d be careful in the vicinity of this ceramic pail below . . .

Sometimes it’s not just signage that catches the attention – this little ensemble makes you look twice:

As does this happy couple celebrating in a field not too far from here . . .

An old sign revived (above): it seems so poignant somehow.

Not sure what stories are being told in the two images above. Certainly, they are arresting.

Some objects speak for themselves.

Please! I know you were going to throw those wellington boots at the hens . . .

A somewhat dramatic juxtaposition which we came across in Kerry. (Below) just imagine . . . !

One could start a collection of mail boxes.

No comment required.

Where do you suppose this sign is situated (below)?

Another fishy tail (above) and a dire warning (below)!

Cashels in Kerry 2: Cahergal

Cahergal is undoubtedly one of the finest examples of a stone ringfort or cashel in Ireland. What makes it outstanding is not the overall size of the enclosure or the height of the enclosing wall but the quality of the drystone masonry, the width of the entrance, the thickness of the wall and the well-planned and executed almost symmetrical stairs and terraces on the inner side of the wall.


Excavations at Cahergal, Co. Kerry:
A Venue for Royal Ceremony in Early Medieval Corcu Duibne

All quotes in this post are from the 2016 excavation report by Conleth Manning of National Monuments*. Con’s report deals with the 1986 brief excavation near the entrance, and his own 1990-1991 excavations inside the cashel. The excavations established a date for the fort – it was originally built between the mid 7th and the mid-9th centuries – as well as providing evidence for its status and uses. It also established the basis upon which most of the restoration work was done – although note I say ‘most.’ In the photo above you can clearly see the old and newer stonework.

Like Leacanabuaile, this was a rather tumbledown ruin before excavation and restoration projects. All that incredible masonry work did not save it from the ravages of time, although the exceptionally high standards of building became clear as it was dug out from the jumbles of stone and grass that covered it.

The initial stages of building included the walls, with its staircases, the entry passageway and the fine paving, as well as the round house in the interior.

The stairs and terraces on the inside of the walls are one of the striking features of this fort. There are two levels of terraces along most of its length, but in one area the stairs went up to three flights. The excavation report states, The third set of steps probably led to a wider viewing terrace, which was likely to have been flanked externally by a parapet wall.

After the excavations the OPW continued to work on the restoration of the fort and this finding was interpreted to mean that this section of the walls was much higher than other sections. This led to a decision to raise the top of the wall in this section, leading to the somewhat startling profile we see now. According to Con Manning this is a skewed interpretation by the OPW and it is highly unlikely that it reflects what the wall actually looked like.

The entrance to the fort had completely collapsed but excavation revealed how deep it had been. A pair of upright jamb stones and fallen lintels were found, leading to the reconstruction as we see it today.

The house was circular and the amount of fallen stone inside led to the conclusion that the roof was originally made of stone, probably using a corbeling technique. If this was the case, this house is the largest round building known to support a stone roof, well known from church sites (such as Kilmalkeader) where the stone roofs are rectangular and steeply pitched. 

A very finely laid-down pavement led from the fort entrance to the door of the house. The pavement was delineated at the side by edge-on kerb stones.  The house originally had three doors, with the main one positioned across from the entrance to the fort, and accessed by walking along the pavement.

Internally, there was a central fireplace (Feature F74 in the pan below). Stake holes around this central feature were probably to support a beam or spits for cooking purposes. The fireplace itself showed that numerous fires had been burned in it. Other stake holes supported furniture for sitting or sleeping.

The strange thing about Cahergal is that the excavations yielded very few finds (compared to Leacanabuaile, for example) and what was found mainly dated to later periods of occupation. So – what was going on during the original period of occupation – mid 7th to mid 9th centuries? Manning speculates that this was actually a royal site, built to impress, to inspire awe, and perhaps to entertain. Ritual feasting would take place in the main house, which would be cleaned carefully afterwards and readied for the next great occasion.

The three doors might support its interpretation as a royal site. Manning says:

In each case the side entrance might have been for people of lower status, with the main entrance being reserved for kings, nobles and important guests. On the other hand one could regard the three doorways as symbolic, three being a magical number as in the triads, and in this case could symbolise the three divisions of Corcu Duibne. In the tale of Branwen daughter of Llyr, in the medieval Welsh Mabinogion, a royal hall with three doors is mentioned in the house of Gwales (Grassholm), where one door, facing Cornwall, was kept permanently closed with a taboo on opening it.

This interpretation of the function of the fort and house – designed to impress and to underscore the prestige of the builders – reflects the later castle-building of Irish chieftains. Here in Ivaha, for example, the O’Mahony clan built tall, overpowering castles to cement their control over the land and the sea around them. Cahergal is within sight of two other cashels – the Castles of Ivaha were often within sight of each other too. Annals tells us that the Taoiseach of the O’Mahony clan built a castle for each of his sons, or other members of his ‘derbfine’ – the family group from which the chief was chosen. 

As if to confirm this possibility, Ballycarbery Castle, a 15th century tower house, lies within clear sight towards the coast. Was this a continuation of the same tradition by the same family – the Falveys? Manning concludes his report by stating:

This [high-status] phase ended with a burning of the internal features and subsequent, probably occasional, lower-status use of the house between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries. Iron forging took place here in the fourteenth century. After the eastern half of the stone roof collapsed and the structure was abandoned for some time, it was roughly rebuilt as a D-shaped structure probably in the fifteenth century.

The last period of occupation was the modern period – the small building built against the wall in the photograph below was probably a sheep-pen noted by an antiquarian visitor.

The final fort we will talk about is Staigue – in many ways it’s the most spectacular (despite not being as well built as Cahergal) but it has not been excavated so less is actually known about it. Meanwhile, if you can’t get to Cahergal but want a Cahergal experience, visit the marvellous Voices from the Dawn – Howard works his 3D magic on this page.

*Conleth Manning. Excavations at Cahergal, Co. Kerry: A Venue for Royal Ceremony in Early Medieval Corcu Duibne. Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy: 2016, Vol. 116C

All four posts in this series can be found here.