By Michael Stewart
There are no flowers growing now in the garden at Cregg, or any of the ornamental shrubs and fruit trees which were once there in abundance, and that, more than anything else, tells in a forceful way, of the change that has taken place at this once proud centre of Irish landlordism. For the garden was once the showpiece of Cregg Demesne, and it was a pleasure to enter at any time of the year. But now it is just an ordinary field, with little to remind one of the treasures it once contained, except for the towering walls which enclose it. And the ruins of one of the garden sheds, where the head gardener would often sit, and gaze with contentment at a row of sweet pea which bloomed opposite the door, and keep a watchful eye lest anyone would be tempted to smuggle a juicy apple or a bunch of luscious fruit out of the garden.
Cregg Castle has a dignified history. It was once the residence of Irish kings and chieftains, the birthplace of a world-renowned philosopher and scientist, and has the distinction of reputedly changing hands at the turn of a card. According to historians, it was once known as Cragymulgreny Castle and is said to have been one of the oldest castles in Ireland to be continuously inhabited. Several kings and chieftains are reputed to have lived there at different periods, among them Brian Boru and Tairdelbach Ua Conchobuir. According to local folklore, it was once the property of Shane Ruagh, a famous chieftain, and during its reconstruction in the seventeenth century, prehistoric underground dwellings were discovered indicating that Cregg was a place of abode long before the most primitive settlements were established elsewhere.
This medieval fortress was rebuilt and remodelled in 1648 by the Kirwans, and for 300 years was the residence of the most prominent and influential landlords in the countryside, the Kirwans and the Blakes. Situationed in a secluded part of a large estate, and surrounded by dense woods with a river nearby, it was one of the last of those castellated structures to be built in Ireland at the time for the purpose of defence. The building incorporated a library, also an oratory as the Kirwans and the Blakes were Catholic. The original entrance to the castle was on the east side through the ‘grand’ gate as it was known, but this was later abandoned in favour of the one now presently used. A boat trench was constructed, linking the castle with the river, and according to local historians, the hand-cut stone used in the renovating of the castle was transported by boat via the river and lake from the stone quarries at Menlo near Galway.
They also say that at the time the castle was being renovated, the Kirwans occupied a vast area of land – upwards of 10,000 acres – to the north towards Tuam, and to the east towards Knockdoe. It seems that even though the Kirwans were Catholic, they gave protection to Protestant settlers who were fleeing the North at the time of the rebellion of 1641, and as a result, when the British later reasserted their authority, they were given possession of all of this land. It was said at the time, a horse let loose from the farmyard at Cregg would often make its way across country to another Kirwan homestead 10 miles away at Castlehackett, without even leaving the Kirwan estate. More than 200 years later, the Parochial House and Franciscan Monastery at Carrowbeg were built on land which was then occupied by the Blakes of Cregg.
Cregg Castle was noted as the birthplace and home of the distinguished philosopher and President of the Royal Irish Academy, Richard Kirwan, who was born there in 1734. He was widely acclaimed for his work as a scientist, and it was written of him that his achievements and discoveries were on par with those of Einstein of later years. He was also Inspector General of Mines in Ireland, and he inherited the Cregg property when his brother Patrick was killed in a duel.
By all accounts, Kirwan was a man of eccentric behaviour. He spent some time at a Jesuit novitiate but later converted to Protestantism. He married into the Blake family in 1757 and it is said that he was arrested very shortly after being wed for a large debt incurred by his bride of a few days’ standing. Although he was called to the Bar in 1766, he spent most of his middle age in scientific pursuits in London and Europe. A collection of his writings which were on a ship which was captured by pirates while travelling to Ireland from the Continent are now in a library in the city of Salem. Local historians say that Kirwan turned to gambling in later years, and one night he gambled the castle and estate in a card game, and there are stories told of mirrors having been placed in strategic points around the card room so as to influence the course of the game. He was the last of that family to have ownership of the castle and passed away at his house in Cavendish Row in Dublin in 1814.
But it was not only the inmates of the castle who would behave in an odd way. There are also curious accounts of the eccentricities of the wildlife on the estate. They say that as one of the early owners of the castle lay dying in his room one night, the foxes came out of the woods and gathered on the lawn in front of his window, and howled in anguish throughout the night. While in more recent times, towards the end of the Blake period at the castle, following a falling-out with local priest Fr Hosty, who was barred from fowling in the woods, it was unknown for a hare to be seen anywhere on the estate, and it would turn away from the demesne wall, even when pursued by hounds.
In the mid-19th century during the years of the Famine, the castle was noted as a centre of refuge to the many people who came seeking food and shelter. Bowls of soup and oatmeal porridge were distributed in the large kitchen to those who were taken in famished and hungry, and some collapsed and died on the avenue as they tried to reach the castle in search of food. And during this period of unparalleled austerity, a man would sometimes be given a turnip for a day’s work on the estate, and if it was a very large one it might be weighed, and a portion sliced off lest he be overpaid, such were the times.
But life was not always dull at Cregg. At one time there were parties to which many of the tenants would be invited, and there is an account of a big party being given to mark the coming of the Archbishop to the castle to perform the marriage ceremony at the wedding of one of the Blakes. Then there was foxhunting, and there was nothing in the countryside to match the glamour and excitement of a meet of the hounds on the lawn at Cregg. At that time foxhunting was the jealously guarded preserve of the ascendancy and its followers, and they would assemble at the castle many times throughout the hunting season. But it was more than just a meeting of the hunt; it was a gathering of an elite, a boisterous celebration of wealth and privilege. There were lords of the realm and ladies, personages of pedigree, high rank, and high office, but there was no one there who was not of account or substance in the country. And they would exchange greetings in front of the hall door, and trays of refreshments would be taken out from the ‘Grand’ Hall and down the steps to be distributed amongst them. And it was all so grand and colourful, awe-inspiring and invigorating, and the castle in the background in its old-world elegance made it all so complete. And many would come and watch, and there was a chance that one might be asked to hold an impatient hunter, or help its rider to mount, for it would be an experience to be cherished and would make a man’s day. When the gentry were refreshed, they would set off down the avenue in pursuit of a fox, and as they thundered by, it was once remarked that Victoria might have been in their midst, so confident were they, and assured, in a world of their own, and entirely unconcerned with anything that went on outside.
The castle features prominently in a local account of the financial collapse of a bank in Galway, at one time, which was owned by the Blakes. It seems that when this happened, a hoard of gold was transferred from the bank to the castle and the conveyance was hotly pursued by the Galway police all the way to Cregg, but they would not venture beyond the entrance to the demesne. Some of the better off tenants had their savings lodged in the Bank at that time in lieu of rent and they were dismayed to find that their deposit receipts were worthless and they had no money to pay the rent for that year.
In 1948, the last of the Blake family departed from Cregg Castle, leaving in the dead of night as had been foretold. Some years later most of the arable land of the demesne was redistributed, and the estate is much reduced now, like the empire that once created and sustained it. The old bell in the castle yard is still in its stone tower high above the hayloft, but is silent now, having long ceased to call out the hour to the men and women toiling in the fields, and the head gardener no longer blows his whistle to summon his workers, but Cregg is a place where the past is close, as its ancient edifice stands in its melancholy splendour, timeless and ageless, a monument to the glory of an empire, and a symbol of the lifestyle of a bygone age.
Originally written in 1980, revised January 2020.
