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From ‘The Man In The Big House’. Stories collected by Eddie Lenihan from the late Jimmy Armstrong of Ballyroughan.

“There was an old man living by himself at Ballykilty, an to go to his house you’d pass down at the back of the old Quin school, down a place they call Rine. Below Rine was the townland of Ballykilty, an’ you pass down Ballykilty on the road to Mooghaun. There was a road then, turning to the right just below Ballykilty wood, an that was a continuation, I’d say, of the old road that was made in Brian Boru’s time. “Twas going on to Ard Solas, that old road. But ’twas on that old road that this old man lived.

The old road that was made in Brian Boru’s time, shown here on the left, went from Ballymarkahan Castle to Ardsollus.

‘But, this fellow I knew well, now, we’ll call him Tom, he was workin’ with a local farmer an’ maybe three or four nights in the week he’d go to this old man, you see, to keep him company. Anyway, ‘twould be after Christmas one year, in January, that Tom went to the old man and this night he was tellin’ him that there was a ruin of an old house about seventy or eighty yards from the fort that was in his field. An’ Tom knew the field as well as he knew his left hand; ’twas across the road from the gate of the farmer ne was workin’ for. I spose thered be about ten or twelve acres in the field, an ’twas at the far side o’ the field from the road the fort was. Now, about seventy or eighty yards from the fort there was a ruin of an old house, an’ the old man told him that there was supposed to be gold buried under the flag of the entrance door to this old house, but a life would have to be lost in the getting of it.

“T’would be got alright but there would have to be a life lost in the getting of it. Anyway, Tom said no more, but the followin’ day he was tellin’ some o the boys around Quin about what the old man was tellin’ him about the gold being buried under the flag o the door of this ruin of the old house. But anyway, Tom, one evenin’ that he was goin’ home he went to inspect it an’ outside the door the entrance door o’ the old house, there was a heap o’ stones, and, coverin’ these stones there was moss and grass.

‘Now, to describe the house to you. An I saw the house! T’was down to the tops o’ the windows. The formations of the windows were there but the top lintels were gone off of ’em, you see. One gable end of the house was standin’ an the other was knocked.

An I spose twould be about forty yards at the Moohaun side of the oul house this old man, he had a galvanised shed made for calves there, an’ he had a door in the house an’ all.

‘But at the back, then, ổ the ruin ở the oul house there was what I could call a haggart where, I suppose, the occupants, they had a garden. This was enclosed by another wall. Well, from the end of the ruin o the oul house up to the old man’s house that he had made for the calves, there was a double wall; ’twas built with dry stones, an’ there’d be rough stones on top of it.

‘Anyway when Tom told the boys around Quin about the yarn that the old man told him about the gold bein buried they made up a plan, that some night they’d go to dig for it. An’ they’d have to wait, o course, until everyone was in bed, the old man in particular. “Twas on his land, you see. But they agreed, anyway, to go of a moonlight night in June or July that year.

‘So, they waited until the month o July, and one night that there was a full moon, an’ Tom, Christy, Joe, Martin an’ another John— we’ll leave their family names out of it ‘cos some of ’em are still alive – they went an’ they armed with pickaxes an’ shovels. An’ Martin, he brought a bottle o’ holy water in case of any evil spirits. But anyway, they went at about eleven o’ clock or half eleven, when they thought that everyone was in bed, you see. An’ they went to this old house an’ they started rootin’. They rooted down, rooted the heap o’ stones that was in the front o’ the entrance door, an’ what was mixed with the heap o’ stones, Tom told me, was old lime mortar, an’ the stones weren’t very big.

‘Anyway, they went down about four feet an John threw up loose stones out of the hole with a shovel. The next thing he came a big flag (stone).’

“The flag was bigger than the hole that they had made so he started rootin’ down one side o’ the hole to make it wider, d’you see, so that he’d come to the edge o’ the flag. While he was rootin down one side o the hole what came along the top o the wall from the old man’s house only what they thought was a white cat. An’ he jumped up on the wall o the ruin o the old horse an’ jumped across the formation o’ the windows until he came between the first window from the door an the second window.

He sat there above on top o’ the wall an’ he started spittin’ at ’em, Tom told me. A cat spittin’, now, did you ever hear him?

“Tssshhh! “Tssshhh! An every spit that hed give, Tom told me the sparks o fire used to come out of his mouth. An didn’t the boys start peltin’ him with stones. An’ he jumped across the window again an’ ran along the top o the double stone wall that the old man, I s’pose, built. He went up on the galvanised the house that the old man had for the calves an’ sat above on the galvanised about forty yards away from ’em, an he spittin. An’ the boys started peltin’ him with stones again so he went up the roof the house an’ down the other side an’ they saw no more of him.

‘But John, anyway, he was below in the hole an he throwin’ up the loose stones out of it, an’ the mortar, an’ he came to the side o the flag. There was a hole down an’ a stone fell down, an fell down the hole. Now, surely to goodness, Tom told me, that from once the stone fell down until it reached the bottom it took about a minute to fall. “Twas unknown the depth of it!

John, anyway, he said that they’d get up the flag whatever depth it was. So he started at the other side o’ the hole an’ as soon as he started at that side, in from the fort came what they though was a sheep. An’ the sheep came slowly in from the fort, an’ when ’twas about halfway between the fort an’ the hole they were opening the sheep took a jump an’ landed into the hole by the side of John. John, he was pitched, I s’pose, about forty yards away with the shovel in his hand, whatever it was that put him out of the hole an ilyin’ though the air. They all ran, out to the road, an left shovels an’ hacks an’ all after ’em. “Twas Martin that had the bottle o holy water but ‘twas Christy that got the contents o’ the bottle goin’ out the field. When they went out on the road they didn’t know what to do. When the old man would come next day an see the hole open an the heap o stones up out of it there’d be holy murder. But, John agreed to go back an’ close the hole some hour ‘ the morning, I s’pose it might be three or four ‘ clock in the morning, for fear the old man might see it. So he did; he went back an’ he brought a crowbar an’ three shovels an a pickaxe out with him. He left’em at a house in Quin until they’d give ’em back to the owners?

“Another place they thought to find something was at Quin Ab-bey. Oh, they did. Now, under Quin Abbey there’s supposed to be a cellar, and, in the cellar the ware of the abbey is supposed to be, cups an’ saucers an’ mugs an’ jugs an’ teapots, an unknown what. ‘Tis unknown, I spose, what they’d be worth now.

‘But didn’t some ‘ the boys, they thought to look for ’em one night. At the back o the abbey, now, facing Daingean Breac castle, there’s an arch. You can see it plain. Well, at the outer portion of the arch there’s a building, a square building. Up about the height of an ordinary man’s chest, under the arch, there’s a window, an’ you can look down an I spose ‘twould be ten or twelve feet down to the bottom. Now, below, if you look down the window, you can see the formation of a door below at the bottom, an above on top then ’tis the sky you’ll see when you look up. You can get at this building from above too. If you go up the stairs when you go in the entrance gate o the abbey you’ll go up to a green patch. Continue on over straight, an’ there’s a drop down then, beyond, down in this square building, an’ a couple of iron bars goin’ across ‘But, what did they do, these three fellows? They thought the formation o’ the door below, you see, was the entrance to the cellar, an’ they brought in a ladder one night, an a crowbar, when all the boys in Quin were in bed, an’ the girls as well. They brought up the ladder up the stairs, anyway, an they put it down from the green patch, down to the bottom. One of ’em went down with his crowbar an’ he took two or three stones out o’ the top o this entrance door. An’ whatever look he gave wasn’t there a friar standing by the side of him. He left the crowbar there. He told me he didn’t know how he went up the ladder. An’ himself an’ another one of ’em, they pulled up the ladder an’ off with ’em as fast as ever they could. I can tell you they went out of the abbey a lot faster than they came in. An’ that finished ’em with the cellar an the ware. But later on they had to come back again, bring ladder an’ all, put it down again an’ bring up the crowbar for fear anyone might see it below an’ know what was being done. I don’t know which of ’em went down for it, though. I’d say it wasn’t the man that saw the friar. If ’twas myself that was in it I’d leave the oul crowbar there to the devil.

 

What did the Anglo Normans ever do for us?

We are well aware of the impact of the Anglo-Norman invasion on our history, the undermining of Gaelic society and the replacement of our native structures. Poor old Diarmuid MacMurrough takes a lot of blame for all of this, despite the fact that Henry II in England had already sought and had been given approval by Pope Adrian to invade and civilise us. Henry was just waiting to finish his war in France before sorting us out!

Anyway, in they came, conquered, settled, married and eventually becoming more Irish than even ourselves, ‘níos gaelaí ná na Gaeil féin’! But besides building towns and castles, robbing our women (and probably taking our jobs!), what did the Anglo-Normans do for us – if anything?

Well, for one, they gave us a whole new suite of names, both forename and surname, to choose from.

The Norman influence on Irish surnames

Following the invasion of 1169, a large number of Anglo-French first and last names entered into Ireland. Many, such as Power, Browne, Fleming, Joyce, Burke, Barry, Costello, Nagle, Nugent, D’arcy, Roche and Walsh/Welsh/Wallace, are nowadays considered Irish and are commonly found in Clare. So, too, are those with the Fitz prefix such as Fitzmaurice, Fitzgerald, Fitzgibbon and Fitzpatrick which most people would regard as Irish as the shamrock. Fitz, meaning ‘son of’, can be considered the Norman version of Mac (it derives from the Latin/French ‘fils de’, meaning ‘son of’). Burke came from de Burgh, Roche from de Roiste, Power from de Paor.

In 1366, a law was passed that “Every Englishman do use the English language, and be named by an English name, leaving off entirely the manner of naming used by the Irish.” This was introduced to dissuade the settlers from adopting Celtic prefixes or forms of surname. It didn’t have much affect as many settler families added Mac or ‘O’ and Norman names evolved into an Irish form (eg McHenry, McArthur).

In 1465 a law was passed enacting “that every Irishman that dwells betwixt or amongst Englishmen in the County of Dublin, Myeth, Vriell, and Kildare … shall take to him an English Surname of one town, as Sutton, Chester, Trym, Skryne, Corke, Kinsale; or colour, as white, blacke, browne; or arte or science, as smith or carpenter; or office, as cooke, butler ….”

Many of the trades of the early medieval period such as Archer, Butler, Cooper, Carpenter, Draper, Skinner, Tanner found their way into our surnames. Other introductions from this period came from the mercenary soldiers who accompanied the Norman invasion: Walsh (meaning Welsh), Joyce and Fleming (from Flemish mercenaries) are examples.

Incidentally, the Normans usually took their surnames from the place of their family origins. So, D’arcy originates in Arcy in Normandy. De Clare originates in Clare in Suffolk where the Anglo-Norman family were based. While De indicated their place of origin, Le was used to describe them, eg Le Poer meant ‘a poor person’.

De Burgh – Burke – from a placename in Suffolk, France

Le Botilier – Butler – Occupation bottle steward

De Barra – Barry – from an estate in Wales

Le Waleys – Walsh – the Welshmen

De Angulo – Costello/Nangle – from Nangle Pembrokeshire

What of their influence on forenames?

 Many of the Normans forenames introduced here were of a biblical or European saintly origin.

 In 1922, Reverend Patrick Woulfe wrote extensively on the topic of Irish name origins as follows:

In the same manner Norman and English names became current in Irish families during the thirteenth and subsequent centuries. These have now almost completely supplanted the old Gaelic names. The names borne by the Normans and by them introduced into Ireland, were of three kinds :

 (1) names of Scandinavian origin which their ancestors had carried with them to Normandy ;

(2) names of Germanic origin which the Frankish conquerors had brought across the Rhine and which had ousted the old Celtic and Latin names from France ; and

(3) Biblical names and Latin and Greek names of saints,, which the Normans began to adopt about the beginning of the eleventh century.

Together with these came in a few Celtic names from Brittany, a small number of Anglo-Saxon names, some Danish and Norse names from England, and one or two British or Welsh names. These were nearly all very rare and most of them soon died out. Of the Anglo-Saxon names, only two, Edmund and Edward, survived. Alfred has been revived in recent times. At the period of the Invasion, Frankish names were by far the most popular among the Normans, but Biblical and saintly names were coming rapidly into favour.

The following is a list, in order of frequency, of the more common names borne by the early Anglo- Norman invaders, the Biblical and saintly names of Latin and Greek origin being printed in italics :

William, Robert, Richard, John, Walter, Roger, Ralph, Adam, Hugh, Henry, Thomas, Nicholas, Gilbert, Geoffrey, Elias, Peter (Piers), Osbert, Reginald, Jordan, Simon, Alan, Stephen, Philip, David, Arnold, Alexander, Laurence, Baldwin, Herbert, Martin, Maurice, Godfrey, Andrew, Alfred, James, Samson, Turstein, Warin, Ailward, Daniel, Edward, Gregory, Bernard, Benedict, Hamon, Matthias, Michael, Gerard, Gervase, Lambert, Wilkin, Patrick, Edmund, Edwin, Hubert, Ivor, Joseph, Oliver, Mark.

 The following in alphabetical order were rare :

 Abraham, Adelard, Ailmer, Antony, Augustine, Brian, Clement, Constantine, Estmund, Eustace, Everard, Gocelin, Isaac, Leonard, Luke, Matthew, Miles, Milo, Odo, Osbern, Osmund, Pagan, Ponce, Randulf, Redmund, Rodulf, Silvester, Turold, Ulf, Vincent.

 The following names only came in, or at least became popular, at a later period :

Bartholomew, Christopher, Francis, Gerald, George, Paul, Roland, Theobald.

 Women’s names among the Normans were nearly all of the Biblical or saintly class:

 Agnes, Alice, Amelina, Anastasia, Annabella, Catherine, Cecily, Christina, Dorothy, Egidia, Eleanor, Evelyn, Frances, Honora, Isabella, Johanna, Matilda, Margaret, Susanna.

 The name Mary does not seem to have come into use in Ireland before the end of the16th century. Brigid only began to be used about the same period.

 

Extracted from ‘Sloinnte Gaedheal is Gall’, Patrick Woulfe 1922

Out with the old, in with the new

The Anglo-Normans also brought with them new animal species such as the rabbit and fallow deer, new foods such as wheat, orchard fruits, mutton and farming practices such as hay-making. They introduced us to continental European religious saints and practices of the Roman Church. European religious orders soon followed such as the Franciscans, Augustinians, Cistercians, Dominicans etc. These replaced the structures of the native Irish Christian Church.

Up to then, the Irish natives did not adopt the name of saints as they considered this to be placing themselves on a par with the saint. Such naming convention was reserved for those of higher status in the monasteries. This was circumvented by use of the prefix Maol or Giolla meaning follower or servant. The Normans changed all of that and it was now acceptable to be called Peter, James, Michael, John, Mary, Brigid or Margaret.

Very few of us to this day do not have either a forename or surname that is not of Norman origin. Eventually, arising from the Gaelic Revival in the late 19th century, new Irish language versions of these forenames appeared such as Séan, Seamus, Peadar, Máire, Bríd, Mícheál, Cathal and many more appeared.

The Irish Church did not condemn the practice of slave-trading by the Irish until the invasion by the Anglo-Normans and the encroachment of the Roman Church. The story of Patrick (Patricius, son of a Roman administrator), which was introduced here after the Norman conquest, presents the native Irish as uncivilised pagan slavers who needed to be brought to heel. So the Normans inadvertently gave us our native saint and a forename for a good chunk of our population for generations following.

Out with the new, in with the old

Children are rarely given these European saint names today. Authentic Gaelic forenames are much more popular. We are nevertheless, unlikely to see the demise of the Anglo-Normans surnames that were introduced here. But all of us Mikes, Jimmies, Johnnys, Paddys, Kittys, Cathys, Maggies and Bridies can thank the Normans for what they brought us!