CLOUGHOUGHTER CASTLE IN COUNTY CAVAN may appear to float upon the cold clear water of the lake, but its foundations are firmly rooted in the earth of a small, natural island. These days, the ruinous shell of the building and its majestic setting, seemingly far from all things human and modern, is picturesque and peaceful, but in fact, its innocent façade masks a grim and violent history.
Its name derives from the Irish Cloch Locha Uachtair, which means, more or less, 'the stone building on the upper southern part of the lake' - a bit of a mouthful in our flat, functional English, but in Irish, place-names are always so poetic and descriptive.
Antiquarians of the nineteenth century believed the castle was built on a crannóg, or man-made island; they misinterpreted wooden beams and tumbled masonry on the shoreline as evidence of the construction of the island, but more recent archaeology has shown that these remains were in fact the basis of defences, and a quay and mooring system for boats, which would have brought supplies, and prisoners, to the castle.
Items found on the island suggest it may have been occupied long before the stone castle was built: a wedge-shaped stone axe, a leaf-bladed bronze age sword, an iron socketed axe. Stone castles in Ireland are generally associated with the arrival of the Anglo-Normans in the late twelfth century, and it is estimated that Cloughoughter was probably built by 1220AD.
At this time, the rule of the kingdom of Breifne was split between two warring local clans, the O'Rourkes in the west, now Co. Longford, and the O'Reillys in the east, now Co. Cavan. But in 1220, Walter de Lacey of the Anglo-Normans had taken control of much of the O'Reilly land, including the castle at Loch Oughter, where Walter’s brother, William, began the reconstruction of the structure in stone. Their goal was to seize the Earldom of Ulster, but King Henry III in England got wind of this, and sent a force against the de Lacy's. The O'Reillys sided with the King and retook the castle, completing the work William had begun in 1233. They managed to hold onto their kingship into the 1600s through allying with the English, although, as time passed, they became increasingly discontent with the way England treated them.
As the English began to implement the Plantation of Ulster, Cavan land was seized by the Crown, carved up and redistributed among Protestant incomers, with the surviving O'Reillys receiving only small allocations of the land that had once been theirs. It is not surprising that they eventually responded with an uprising. Cloughoughter Castle played its formidable part as the stronghold of the Irish Rebellion against the English in 1641.
And this is where my interest in Cloughoughter Castle becomes apparent, and where my college, professional, and personal lives collide.
Back in 2017, in a first year history class, our lecturer asked us to research the 1641 depositions and write an essay on our findings. I looked up depositions made by planters in my own county, clicking on one made by Marmaduke Batemanson, purely because I liked his unusual name. He introduced me to a woman named Rose ni Neile, whom I have been fascinated by ever since. He claimed she had ordered his execution, and that struck me as odd; women in Ireland at that time were supposed to lead domestic lives, they wouldn't normally have held such power over a man's life. I opened up more depositions, and to my amazement, found more stories of Rose.
Fast-forward to April 2021, shortly after lockdown ended, and we were allowed to travel within the confines of the county in which we lived, the first place I escaped to was Cloughoughter Castle. I had never been before, and after I had clambered my way through a very muddy forest, I sat on a large rock beside the water, listening to the waterbirds, and contemplating this breath-taking almost fairy-like castle, and I took these pictures. I was even inspired to write a poem, and believe me, I am no poet! And then I went home.
A few months later, I started working in my local museum. I did not know then that my new office door would open directly onto an exhibition of Cloughoughter and its tragic role during the rebellion years of 1641. Every day, I gaze on the face of Owen Roe, and wonder about his sister. Various incarnations of the castle hover upon the museum walls. In the archival record, I have catalogued many of the archaeological artefacts that were discovered there. I have produced condition reports on the artefacts displayed in the exhibition. When in 2022 we were asked for our Master’s to make a presentation on an aspect of the past which intruded upon our present, Cloughoughter was an obvious choice. Cloughoughter, it seems, will not let me go.
Rose was no ordinary woman; she was born into the powerful Ulster Gaelic family, the O’Neills, said to be descended from King of Ireland, Niall of the Nine Hostages. Her brother, Eoghan Ruadh Ó’Néill (Owen Roe O’Neill), commanded the Ulster forces during the Confederate Wars which followed the 1641 Rebellion. And she had married into the O'Reillys; her husband was Pilib mac Aoidh mic Sheáin mic Aoidh Chonallaigh Ó'Raghallaigh (Philip O’Reilly). Pilib's father, and all his forefathers had been O'Reilly chieftains, and Lords of east Briefne. The English had dismantled the kingship by then, but Pilib was a member of parliament for Cavan until 1641, when he became a leader of the rebellion, and was elected by clansmen as the O'Reilly chieftain. He led battles in Belturbet, Drogheda, and Benburb.
As you might expect, Pilib was accused of treason by the English, but managed to evade capture until 1653. He had retired to Cloughoughter Castle, which had been used as a refuge and a prison throughout the rebellion, due to its defensible position. However, Cromwell's forces battered it relentlessly with canon-fire, until one half of the castle wall collapsed. Just as we see it today.
According to Kirker, local lore claims Cromwell had a lot of problems with his assault on the castle; he only succeeded when, thanks to an 'Irish betrayer', he
commenced battering the south face of the castle, but in vain, until a false woman, who was inside, hung out a white cloth opposite the spot where the wall was weak: at this spot he directed all his shots until he made a breach which exposed the warders inside to the fury of his firing.
Isn't it always a woman who gets the blame?
Pilib was forced to surrender. He was banished from Ireland, and fled to Spain, finally settling in Holland; I cannot find Rose's name in the historical record, but I like to think that she was with him. I believe he took an entourage of a thousand people with him, so it is highly likely Rose was amongst them. He died shortly afterwards in 1655.
According to the depositions, Rose rode into battle alongside her husband, and wielded a gun called a petronel. She was so fierce and commanding that she was nicknamed 'the Colonel'. She also went on rebel missions where she was the leader in charge of groups of men, taking prisoners, and terrorising English planters. Pilib and Rose, it seems, were working in concert, where Rose was allowed the freedom and power to act independently. I guess extreme times, like a rebellion, call for extreme measures.
From the time it was built, until the time it fell, Cloughoughter was fought over and thus passed between clans as the spoils of war. For example, in 1327, following a war between the O'Rourkes and the O'Reillys, the castle was taken by Cathal O'Rourke 'by cunning, for 20 cows' - possibly a reference to cattle-raiding, or a bribe; in 1369, (a different) Philip O'Reilly was imprisoned there by his clansmen, where he was 'severely bound and fettered'; Manus O'Reilly then made himself lord, which started a war amongst the clans in which Manus was defeated. Maguire, Lord of Fermanagh sent boats to liberate Philip, who promptly re-assumed his rightful lordship. In 1370, Manus was caught and imprisoned in the castle, and in 1390 escaped but was subsequently slain.
Although he gives no date, Kirker claims that on one occasion, the O'Reillys stole the castle back from the O'Rourkes by entering the building disguised as servants, and thus killing everyone inside it. During the 1641 rebellion, the Protestant Bishop of Kilmore, William Bedell, the same man who is credited with the first ever translation of the Bible into the Irish language, was imprisoned in the castle for giving refuge to English planters in his home. Although he was released some weeks later, he died as a result of the wounds of torture and effects of exposure he had endured during his imprisonment.
Rose's brother, Eoghan Ruadh Ó’Néill, a hero of the rebellion, and leader of the Confederate forces, died in Cloughoughter Castle in 1649, having been brought there following an acute attack of gout on his way to battle parliamentary forces. O'Neill was considered such a threat to Cromwell's invasion, that rumours circulated of his assassination, that he was poisoned by a priest recruited by the English, but no evidence to support this story has ever been found.
I wonder if Rose ever visited Cloughoughter Castle. Was she rowed across the lake to attend her sick brother? Perhaps she was at her husband’s side as Cromwell’s forces bombarded the castle. She cannot have thought of the place fondly, symbol as it was of personal loss and tragedy: the death of her brother within its cold, stony confines; her husband defeated by Cromwell's forces there, her hopes of liberating Ireland from the English as shattered as the castle walls.
Cloughoughter Castle was a place I had always wanted to visit long before I was aware of its historical significance. I was then attracted by the romance of its location, the fairy-tale façade of a tower on a lake in the middle of a forest. Then I learned about the importance of County Cavan in the 1641 rebellion, that it began with Pilib calling a meeting of all his clansmen in the small town of Virginia, so close to where I now live. I learned about fiery, unpredictable, maverick Rose, whose presence has become a regular feature in my life. And I wonder at how their stories have intersected with mine, at how much they occupy my thoughts, how the voices of the past manage to find a way into the present to tell their stories if we are open to hearing them.
RESOURCES:
The Annals of the Four Masters, Celt UCC.
Kirker, S.K., 'Cloughoughter Castle, County Cavan', The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland , 4th Quarter, 1890, Fifth Series, Vol. 1, No. 4, pp. 294-297.
Davies, O., 'The Castles of County Cavan: Part I', Ulster Journal of Archaeology , Third Series, Vol. 10 (1947), pp. 73-100.
Owen Roe O'Neill, Library Ireland.
Philip O’Reilly, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.
The Floating Castle of County Cavan