Glasshouse Co Kilkenny Archives

If any one thread runs between my weekly blogs, it’s the rivers. Being at the meeting place of the three sisters, the Rivers Barrow, Nore and Suir, that’s probably not a surprise. But in all those blogs, one I think has been missing, the social element of the rivers, the connections between its riverside communities and the activities it brought.

One of my earliest memories of this interconnection was as a nipper going in the punt with my Father, Bob and Uncle Sonny to a wake in Great Island, directly across the river in Co Wexford. On reaching the quayside, I recall the fear of walking on the timber slated jetty, expecting I’d trip or fall down between the gaps. Next along the old road and under the Barrow Bridge, towering above me and worrying a train might come along. All new and wondrous. Then a concreted driveway, and a sweep down to an old two storey house, the driveway of which was lined with groups, predominately of men, and we stopped and talked to all. Into the house then and I have a memory of being wrapped up in female hospitality, ushered into a kitchen and a huge fuss being made, while the men went elsewhere. Although only snatches of memory, the overall feeling was of acceptance and welcome.

My grandmother often talked about boating trips on the river and visiting “neighbours”. In her glass case she kept her mementos amongst which for years was a carefully folded piece of newspaper, upon which was a poem. Occasionally she’d take it out as she reminisced about these trips, and at some point would include her reciting these lines called Dunbrody by Kathy Leach, a contemporary of hers, who lived in the High Street, Cheekpoint.

In the springtime and in the summer, autumn
and winter too.

I can see Dunbrody Abbey, nestling close
beside the Suir;

I can see Dunbrody Abbey standing there so
quiet and still,

sorrounded by the green fields, and the
banks of Campile Pill.

How we loved the Sunday evenings in the
summer long ago;

We urged the boys to get a boat, we coaxed
them for to row.

They were great navigators, we never had a
spill.

But sure we were delighted when we got
through Campile Pill.

Then we went to see the Abbey, it looked so
peaceful there.

It is a sacred place, where holy monks did
pray.

We thought it part of heaven as we went on
our way.

Up to Horeswood Chapel, where the bell rings
every day.

When I hear the angelus bell ring, now
calling all to pray,

it brings back golden memories of bygone
happy days;

The old friends are all scattered now, some
are dead and gone.

But rememberance of Dunbrody will forever
linger on.

And of course there were events such as the regattas which I covered recently and the dances in the village. Not just in the Reading Room, but also at the cross roads and on the village green and on the strand road. I haven’t a notion how they were organised, but have no doubt but that was as easy to promote and we would find it now. Passed by boat to boat, person to person, or maybe prearranged and agreed in a cyclical fashion. Apparently they would try to match the prevailing tides and would travel the rivers to Glass house, Ballinlaw, Great Island, Campile, Ballyhack and beyond. My father told me he could recall the stage being brought from the Reading Room to the Green. Apparently a great fuss was made to have the village looking at its best. And then via the river they came, in punt prong and sailing yawl and pleasure craft and an evening of song, music and dancing was enjoyed long into the summer nights. I’ve never seen a photo of it, but below is one I came across in a book called Lismore by Eugene F Dennis, which might give a sense.

As a consequence of the fishing, the travel and the social outings the communities of the river were much closer in the past. Marriage between the villages was more common and those ties strengthened the bonds between us. My Grandmother (her Grandfather was a Malone of Clearystown below New Ross) was often to be heard commenting on the happenings over in Nuke(directly across from the Russianside, in Co Wexford). Maybe it was the Whitty’s and whether the boats were moored off, or fishing. Or compliment Mrs Murphy having the smoke out early in the morning, or maybe that there was a light on overnight in Shalloes and wondering if anyone was sick. I can often recall Josie Whitty of Nuke, who died earlier this year herself, attending local funerals in Faithlegg.

But this last generation has seen a dramatic shift in this connection to the rivers. The loss of the fishing has certainly played a decisive role, but already the old traditional ways were under threat. Perhaps even more so its being faced with so many options and activities, that the simpler pleasures have been lost. Odd when you think that we have never had such great opportunities to communicate, that those that are a little more than a half mile away now feel so distant.

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In years gone by, rural communities depended much more on local resources to sustain themselves and in agricultural terms mills highlight how important grain was as a crop. At home my grandmother told me they had a hand turned mill, the base of which is still in the garden. But commercially larger mills were a requirement.

Growing up around the river, one of the many interesting placenames was glasshouse Mill. Often whilst waiting a drift for Salmon on the ebb tide from the Binglidies we would take a walk in around the ivy clad structure and marvel at the scale of the building. But in recent years I’ve come to realise there were many such structures locally and some very old, which are worthy of recording.

Now although Glasshouse Mill was on the Kilkenny side of the river, in days gone by, boundaries were not as big a factor when determined by the river, because the river was the route by which the locals travelled. Therefore although I will also mention Wexford in this piece, its because of their closeness and accessibility via boat that they deserve to be included.

Glasshouse mill, Co Kilkenny

For example, the oldest known mill in the area was at Kilmokea on Great Island. Kilmokea was a early Christian monastic site and a horizontal mill driven by water was known to exist there. (Colfer p.26) The monks were also skilled in the making of millstones, which were hewn from suitable rock in Ballyhack, Drumdowney and I imagine it was quite possibly they who tried to extract a millstone on the Minuan, the stone where we as children played the knights of the round table. A fascinating excerpt on the mill from Horseswood National School is here.

The Knights Templars received grants of land in the area after the Norman conquest. (Byrne pp 101-107) The Templars came into being during the crusades and brought many new ideas and products including building techniques and technology back from the east. These technologies included improvements in milling and windmills.

Interestingly though, Niall Byrne states that the Templars were granted an existing water mill in Waterford (on Johns Pill) and Jim Hegarty in his own publication states that they inherited a windmill on the hill of Passage East at Cuoc-a-Cheannaig and that this would later be known as Nicholsons Mill. (Hegarty p.7) I remember either reading or hearing of the Aylwards having a Mill in the area, I presume this it is the Passage windmill they refer to, which they possibly “fell in for” following the suppression of the Templar order.

Remains of Nicolson’s windmill, Passage East

The Templars used the Mills as a means of generating income, as did those who followed them. Essentially the peasants working the land paid for the right to live there, to grow crops and also paid for the milling of their corn. I’ve also read somewhere that they paid a fine, if they did not have grain to mill. Talk about a double bind!

Other mills were located at Dunbrody Abbey, on the Campile pill. Known as Salt mills they used the power of the tide to drive the vertical mill wheel (Colfer pp 62-64). The process was relatively simple. When the tide was at high water, the water was held back by a dam, and when the tide went out it was released into a millrace which drove the wheel and which ground the corn.

Watermill (Saltmill) at Dunbrody from Billy Colfer’s book

The two other mills that we know of come from the Bolton era I would imagine. One was at Ballycanavan and was driven in a way similar to the Saltmill described above. The other was at Half Way House, take a look to the left as you come under the bridge heading towards town. Both these mills were facinating in terms of their operation and over the next two weeks I will describe each.

Byrne. N. The Irish Crusades. 2007. Linden publishing. Dublin

Colfer. B. The Hook Peninsula. 2004. Cork University Press. Cork.

Hegarty. J. Time & Tide. Self published history of the Passage and Crooke Area.

Tag: Glasshouse Co Kilkenny

Rowing to the dance

Mills of the area