The Byrne cottage, Athgarvan

In the nineteenth century, Irish newspapers generally only catered for the upper- and middle-classes of society, and unless they had found themselves on the wrong side of the law, they rarely mentioned my working-class ancestors, but on this occasion, they have delivered a real gem:-

At some point, following the death of her brother, Edward Byrne, in 1881, my Dad’s great-grandaunt, Mary Byrne, and her husband, Owen Doran, 'inherited' the Byrne cottage, at Athgarvan Cross, Co. Kildare. This cottage, or one standing on the same site, was once the home of my third great-grandparents, Andrew Byrne and Anne Clynch.

After a few years, the Dorans emigrated to New York, and the little cottage passed out of the Byrne family for good.  Before they left, they held an auction, to sell off all the stuff they were leaving behind. The auction was advertised in the county newspaper and the advertisement tells much about our ancestral home, and hints at the perceived attraction of living in Athgarvan, at the end of the nineteenth century. 

The Byrnes never owned the cottage in Athgarvan, nor the acre of land on which it stood. They held it under some kind of lease, at an annual rent of £1 and 10 shillings. Due to the low rent, their 'interest' in the property had a value, and could be sold on. They also hoped to sell their furniture, a bit of timber, Owen Doran’s carpenter’s tools and a heap of manure.

Kildare Observer and Eastern Counties Advertiser, 

28 February 1891, p. 4

What would bring someone (and by someone, I really mean my ancestors) to live in Athgarvan? It was barely more than a hamlet of houses. It's a beautiful part of the country, no doubt, but that didn't put food on the table. The only business was seemingly an old corn mill. Owen Doran was a carpenter, so he was selling its proximity to the market towns of Newbridge and Kilcullen, with the Curragh Camp on its doorstep.

The British Army had built a large barracks on the Curragh, housing potentially thousands of men, but not until the mid-1850s. The Byrne family had lived in Athgarvan from the early 1830s, or maybe even earlier. Plus, Andrew Byrne was a gardener, not a tradesman or a dealer, and the 'big towns' weren't exactly 'big', before the army came. Maybe, Andrew was just born in the area and stayed put.

Grave matters – Athgarvan Burial Ground

A recent visit to Ireland by a new-found cousin from the U.S. prompted the search for our mutual third great-grandfather's grave. Here's what we already knew about Andrew Byrne: Andrew married Anne Clinch/Clynch in Suncroft parish, Co. Kildare, in 1833. They then made their home in Athgarvan, five miles away, on the other side of the Curragh. Andrew remained in Athgarvan until his death on 25 October 1872, leaving Anne behind to mourn his passing.

Historically, burial registers were rarely maintained for Catholic graveyards in Ireland, and until the twentieth century, generally only well-off families could afford to place a permanent marker on their loved-one’s grave. So, it’s not as if I expected to ever find actual proof of Andrew’s burial. But, it would be nice to know his probable burial place.

Graveyard at Athgarvan, c.1837-42

Ordinance survey maps show there was a small graveyard in Athgarvan about 1840.[1] And, when Griffith's Valuation for the area was published in 1852, it confirmed the graveyard measured one rood (an old measure equal to a quarter of an acre). It was situated on land occupied by Joseph R. Reeves, who had by then built a large farmhouse between the Grave Yard and the Flour Mill. Andrew Byrne lived in one of the cottages shown on the left edge of the above map, so if this graveyard was still in use in 1872, it seems likely he was buried there.[2]

This was an ancient burial ground. A church stood on the site in 1640, when it was included in a list of parochial churches drawn up by the then Bishop of Kildare, Dr Roche MacGeoghegan.[3] It also appeared on a map of the county created in 1752, though it is unclear how well it was surviving the (anti-Catholic) Penal Laws.[4] There was certainly no trace of the church in 1840 (map above), when only the graveyard remained. It’s possible, numerous, as yet unknown, generations of my Kildare family were buried there.

Church at Athgarvan, 1752

In August 1888, the Local Government Board held an Inquiry to consider a petition by T.B. Reeves’ to close the Athgarvan graveyard. Sixty people claiming burial rights objected.[5] This all sounds very familiar. The same thing happened in Malahide, Co. Dublin, and, in that case, Peter Radcliffe, my fourth great-grandfather, was also forced to defend his burial rights through the courts. 

At the Inquiry, T.B. Reeves claimed the graveyard was full. This must have annoyed the locals. Several witnesses alleged the Reeves family had already appropriated a portion of the cemetery for their vegetable garden.[6] And, given the cemetery then measured only twenty-seven perches, when there were forty perches in a rood, this may have been true.

T.B. Reeves cited bad smells coming from the graveyard, with bones and skulls frequently being thrown up. Nothing like a bit of scaremongering to progress the cause!  But, medical doctors, the area sanitary officer, and even the court-appointed 'expert' disagreed with him. They concluded further burials would cause no 'threat to public health', nor 'insult to public decency', and the Inquiry adjourned to allow the people register their burial claims.[7]

It seems, there is every chance Andrew Byrne, his wife Anne, and as many of their children that so desired, were buried in this graveyard.

River Liffey, from Athgarvan Bridge, April 2018

In the above photograph, the cemetery is situated among the copse of trees, just behind the weir, on the right-hand banks of the River Liffey. Unfortunately, it remains on private property, with no access to the public. This may be as close as we’ll ever get to paying our last respects to Andrew and Anne Byrne. Still, as final resting places go, if they truly were buried here, theirs really is quite spectacular!

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[1] Ordnance Survey Ireland, Historic map 6-inch Colour, c.1837-42 (GeoHive).

[2] Griffith’s Valuation, 1853, Blackrath and Athgarvan, Greatconnell, Co. Kildare (Ask about Ireland).

[3] Michael Comerford, Collections relating to the Dioceses of Kildare and Leighlin, vol. ii (Dublin, 1886). p. 296 (Ask about Ireland). 

[4] J. Noble & J. Keenan, Map of county Kildare (Daniel Pomarede, Dublin, 1752) (logainm.ie). 

[5] Kildare Observer and Eastern Counties Advertiser, 28 July 1888, p. 5.

[6] Same, 4 August 1888, p. 5.

[7] Same.

The Clynch Connection

The goal this week was to ascertain who, if anyone, my Dad’s great-granduncle, Andrew Byrne, followed to Aurora, Illinois, when he left Ireland for America around 1887. Immigrants often sought out the support of relatives who had already established themselves.

My objective was twofold. First, if an earlier generation of Andrew’s family was found, I wanted to check and see if their descendants were listed among Dad’s DNA matches. Secondly, any information gleaned about Andrew’s aunts and uncles might help reveal the identity of his grandparents - my fourth great-grandparents - whose names remain unknown.

And, I believe I now know who Andrew Byrne followed to Aurora, if indeed he spent time there. It’s a probable family connection I’ve pondered before.

The early emigrants

On 12 May 1854, before Andrew Byrne was even born, the Ticonderoga docked in New York having sailed from Liverpool, England. Its passengers included Edward Clynch, aged 33 years; Martin Clynch, aged 35; Catherine Clynch, aged 25; Mary Clynch, aged 30; and an infant Mary Clynch. They were accompanied by Rose Darcy and Ellen Keally, both 26 years old.  I recognise all these names from Andrew’s birthplace in Athgarvan, Co. Kildare. Andrew’s mother was a Clynch from Athgarvan!

Passenger list from the Ticonderoga, arriving in New York, 12 May 1854

Martin and Edward soon made their way to Aurora, Illinois, where their surname morphed permanently to Clinch. The both claimed U.S. citizenship at Aurora courthouse on the same day in 1860 and in the census that year, Martin was found living in Aurora with his wife Catherine, daughter Mariah (aka Mary), born in Ireland, and an infant son Edward, born in Illinois.

Why do I recognise these emigrants?

Andrew Byrne was the youngest son of Andrew Byrne and Anne Clynch, my third great-grandparents. Edward Clynch was Godfather to Andrew and Anne’s son Thomas Byrne, baptised in August 1838. Mary Clynch was Godmother to their first son Andrew in November 1843. Ellen Kealy was Godmother to their son Edward in November 1850 and Rose Darcy was Godmother to their daughter Anne in May 1853.

Plus, Martin Clynch of Athgarvan married Catherine Fox in the parish church in Newbridge, on 28 August 1853. Their daughter Maria was baptised on 22 January 1854, just a few months before they all up and left the country. Maria’s Godfather was John Byrne, possibly Andrew’s elder brother and my great-great-grandfather John, born in 1841. And, subsequent records for Catherine in Aurora confirm her maiden name was Fox.

Does this help identify my fourth great-grandparents?
Athgarvan was a tiny village back then, and the Clynch surname was relatively rare in Ireland, so there’s little doubt my Anne Clynch was related to this Clynch family. And, although her son Andrew wasn’t born until March 1855, after the emigrants had all departed, and despite not having any 'proof' he contacted them in Aurora, Andrew surely followed in their footsteps.

I’m thinking the three passengers, Martin, Edward and Mary, and possibly my third great-grandmother Anne, were the children of Patrick Clynch and Catherine Murphy. No other Clynch family has been found in the village around the time. Their daughter Mary was baptised in February 1825. She would have been in her thirtieth year when the Ticonderoga crossed the Atlantic.

Regrettably, there is a gap in the Newbridge parish registers between 1795 and 1819, around the same time Martin, Edward and Anne were likely baptised. So, it may not be possible to ever link them directly to Patrick and Catherine.

Still, when Griffith published his Valuation in 1853, Patrick Clynch and Anne’s husband, Andrew Byrne senior, were near-neighbours at Athgarvan Cross. And, a few years later, possibly in the immediate aftermath of Patrick’s death, Andrew Byrne senior took over the lease on Patrick’s cottage and garden. 

I mentioned this last year in my post entitled ‘Succession Rights’. It suggests a close familial relationship, although it also suggests traditional inheritance practices were disregarded - ‘the land’ passed out of the Clynch family name. Perhaps this occurred because the rest of the family had already emigrated, or maybe it’s what prompted them all to leave.

Excerpt Griffith’s Valuation, Athgarvan, 1853

But, I have some niggling doubts regarding Anne's precise relationship to Patrick and Catherine. In 1833, Andrew and Anne married in the neighbouring parish of Suncroft, not in Newbridge, and marriages traditionally took place in the bride’s parish. Also, while their eldest daughter was called Catherine, in line with traditional naming patterns, Andrew and Anne did not name a son, Patrick.

So, there’s still much to do to prove Patrick and Catherine (Murphy) Clynch were Anne’s parents. Patrick may have been her elder brother, or perhaps even her uncle or cousin.

Granda’s proposed path to Patrick and Catherine Clynch

Sources consulted: 1854 Passenger List; Edward and Martin Clinch, Naturalization Index; Martin Clinch houseshold, 1860 census; Newbridge, Catholic Parish Registers; Griffiths Valuation, Blackrath and Athgarvan.

Read about the fate of the Clynch/Clinch family in Aurora, here and see some further reflections on Andrew and Anne's relationship to Patrick Clynch here.

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© Black Raven Genealogy

Succession rights

In nineteenth-century Ireland, many people rented their property on a week-by-week basis. They had limited tenancy rights and faced eviction at any time, on the whim of their landlord. Despite this, or maybe because of it, Irish people formed a unique attachment to the land. It often passed from one generation to the next and remained in the same family for centuries.

As they had no legal rights to the property, this ‘inheritance’ was rarely subject to a written will. So, probate records, much used by genealogists abroad, are often of limited use in Ireland.

But, there is another way to trace the occupiers of a property over time – the Cancelled Books. These books record changes in landlord and occupier, as well as in the size and value of their holding. When the number of amendments made a book difficult to read, it was cancelled, and a new one opened. Hence the name. Unfortunately, the books covering the Republic of Ireland are not available online. A recent visit to the Valuation Office provided an insight into the fortunes of my paternal Byrne family from Co. Kildare.

Griffith published his Primary Valuation for Co. Kildare in 1853. It showed my third great-grandfather, Andrew Byrne, at his rented property in Athgarvan. At the time, Andrew had a cottage with an annual valuation of just ten shillings - as shown at plot 2e on the below map. His garden measured only fifteen perches in size. Bear in mind there were 160 perches in a single acre of land – this was a tiny garden for a man who worked as a gardener.

Excerpt Griffith’s Valuation, Athgarvan, Co. Kildare, 1853

The earliest Cancelled Book for Athgarvan began a few years after 1853. In that short time, Andrew Byrne had already replaced Patrick Clynch as the occupier of the property at 2a. His new holding included a cottage and sheds, with a combined value of fifteen shillings a year. It's unlikely the house was any better than his previous one, but the new garden was over an acre in size. It was valued at an extra fifteen shillings a year. Andrew finally had a decent garden to call his own.

Andrew remained at this property and likely cultivated his garden for many years. Then, the Cancelled Books show Edward Byrne replaced him as the occupier of 2a. This revision was dated 1877, five years after Andrew had passed away. Andrew died of bronchitis on 26 October 1872, at the age of sixty-eight years, leaving his wife, Anne, behind.

Edward Byrne was Andrew’s son, born in Athgarvan, in 1850. He was the second youngest son - the youngest, Andrew, was still a minor in 1872. In June 1878, Edward married Margaret Mullins. If his mother was still alive, she probably continued to live with them. But, within ten years, Edward’s name was also removed as the occupier of 2a. The change dates to 1887 and suggests he passed away at a young age.

Owen Doran, Edward’s brother-in-law, replaced him as the ratepayer on record. Owen had married Edward’s sister Mary Byrne in May 1878. The Dorans had seven children, all baptised in the parish. They lived in Rosetown, the townland adjoining Athgarvan, before moving into the Byrne cottage. Then, in 1891, the family moved to New York. The cottage passed to a William Dowling, and most likely out of my family for good.

Looking back to the mid-1850s when Andrew Byrne replaced Patrick Clynch at 2a. Andrew's wife was born Anne Clynch. Chances are she was related to Patrick, especially now we know she moved into his home. But, it might take some work to figure out their precise relationship.

See further reflection on where Andrew Byrne was living in 1853, here.

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© Black Raven Genealogy

His first family

If you’ve been doing genealogy for any length of time, you’ve probably already uncovered some family secrets. Occasionally these secrets are still shocking, even today – like bigamy, for example – that would probably still cause a stir.

There are no skeletons in our family closet, at least none I’ve found. And, maybe I wanted to liven things up a wee bit. Maybe, I just wanted to make some family skeletons dance. So, perhaps it was wishful thinking, when, for a brief moment, I wrongly suspected my great-great-grandfather of this woeful crime.

John Byrne married Mary Markey in Dublin city in January 1860, a couple of weeks after their daughter Mary was baptised.[1] No further record of the family was found in Dublin. So, when John married my great-great-grandmother, Alicia Leahy, in the city, in January 1867, I assumed Mary had died - without having any more children. This was not the case, though.

While searching for what might have happened to their daughter, Mary, I came across another son, James. James Byrne was born on 16 August 1864 in Athgarvan, a small village near Newbridge in Co. Kildare.[2] John was from Athgarvan originally, so, after his marriage, he must have taken his young family home.

Four years and eight months separate the births of Mary and James, suggesting there were probably more children. And, the Newbridge Parish registers revealed a son Andrew was baptised on 24 August 1862 and a son John on 16 August 1863. The family’s address was recorded as ‘Kingstown and Athgarvan’ in 1862 and ‘Monkstown and Athgarvan’ in 1863.[3] Presumably, Mary lived in Athgarvan and John lived in Monkstown. He lived in Monkstown when he married Alicia, so this made sense.

Then, I searched forward in the baptism register and began to wonder just how long John and Mary were married. It was getting close to the time John met Alicia in Dublin. On November 1865, fifteen months after James was born, they had a daughter - Mary Anne Byrne.[3]

I admit; I held my breath as I searched forward once again. But, no more children were found. I probably owe a huge apology to my great-great-grandfather, but I did have a few reasons to fuel my suspicion:  

First, when John Byrne married Alicia, he incorrectly claimed to have been a bachelor, even though he was married to Mary for six years and had a bunch of kids with her. What was that about?

Secondly, Alicia did not live with John during their marriage. She lived in Kingstown, when he lived nearby in Monkstown. Add to that the fact John and Alicia lived in Co. Dublin, when John’s first family were in Co. Kildare!

Finally, until very recently, I knew nothing about my great-grandfather’s family or where he came from. That in itself was strange in the little village of Malahide, Co. Dublin, where Michael Byrne married my great-grandmother, and where everyone knew everything about their neighbours. So, I already half-suspected there was something to hide in my great-grandfather’s past.  

But, I was wrong. John’s first wife died in Athgarvan on 28 December 1865, a year before he married Alicia. Mary died of lung congestion after a six-week illness. John was with her at the time, and registered her death.[4]

I do feel sorry for John Byrne; he buried two wives before he reached his twenty-eight birthday. I wonder how many of his children survived, or did he bury most of them too. And, I wonder if my great-grandfather knew, or at least knew of, his (half) brothers and sisters. 

  

Genealogy Quick Tip:

Don't trust the index. If you know the Irish parish where a marriage or baptism likely occurred, always check the registers on the NLI website.  The transcriptions contain numerous errors and the identification of surname variants is not yet sufficiently comprehensive to be reliable. As a result, none of John Byrne and Mary Markey’s children were found using the Catholic Parish Registers on FindMyPast or Ancestry. Yet, all the baptisms were recorded.

More about John Byrne's origins: Escape to the Country.

[1] Church records, Parish of St Nicholas, 1859-60, IrishGenealogy.ie. 

[2] ‘Ireland Births and Baptisms, 1620-1881’, FamilySearch, citing Irish Civil Records. 

[3] Newbridge Parish baptism register, microfilm 04209/06, Andrew Byrne, p. 8; John Byrne, p. 13; Mary Anne Byrne, p. 23, NLI. 

[4] Copy death register (Mary Byrne, Naas, 1865), General Register Office.

Image adapted from one on Pixabay.

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© Black Raven Genealogy

Our ancestral playground ~ The Curragh, Co. Kildare

Sepia Saturday invites bloggers to share their family history through old photographs.  Their theme image this week features a shepherd holding a sheep, while his sheepdog looks on. I don’t know if any of my ancestors had sheep, but the picture reminds me of the Curragh (pronounced Curra), in Co. Kildare. The Curragh is an area of nearly five thousand acres of mostly flat open plains, near where I now live. Shepherds have grazed sheep there, for centuries.

Sheep on the Curragh, Co. Kildare

The Curragh is situated less than a mile from Athgarvan Cross, where my Dad’s Byrne family resided throughout much of the nineteenth century. Sadly, there are no surviving old photographs of them to share, so I recently recreated some my own.

I go for regular walks on the Curragh with my own sheepdog, Molly. We love being out under the big open skies, where the sweet smell of the gorse permeates the air and birdsong carries in the breeze. Ok, more often than not, we’re met with a stiff chilly wind, but it’s the sunny days I remember best. 

Little has changed in this landscape in a thousand years or more. It looks just like it did in my ancestors’ day.

The Curragh, Co. Kildare

And, now that I know my great-great-grandfather, John Byrne, was born so close to the Curragh in 1841, it’s easy to believe this was his playground too. I can imagine John and his brothers and sisters playing soldiers on the plains, hide-and-go-seek in the woods, and making their dens in the undergrowth. Perhaps, I now too walk the very same paths they once took.

The Curragh, Co. Kildare

When I told our neighbours, whose families have lived in the vicinity for generations, that I walk on the Curragh, they were delighted to share their recollections of the area. These are the very same stories once told my ancestors, even if they are not remembered by my family today.

It was not always a happy place. When the 1798 rebellion against British rule met with defeat in Co. Kildare, an amnesty was declared and the rebels were asked to surrender their arms at an area called Gibbet Rath, on the Curragh. More than 1,000 local men gathered and handed over their weapons. The soldiers, under General Sir James Duff, then opened fire on the unarmed crowd. 350 men were murdered. So far, I’ve only traced my Byrne lineage back to the 1830s, so I don’t know if they played a part in the rebellion. One thing is certain though - a massacre on this scale left a lasting impression on all the people of the area.

Throughout the centuries, the Curragh plains have often been used for military training. Even today, the land belongs to the Irish Defence Forces.

The Curragh, Co. Kildare

My favourite story about the Curragh features Donnelly’s Hollow. This was named after Dan Donnelly a once famous Irish bare-knuckle boxer who beat the prevailing English champion, George Cooper, on that very spot in 1815. Cooper was the favourite to win. Donnelly was given no chance. 20,000 people came from far and wide and packed into the hollow to watch the fight, and against all odds, Donnelly won.

Monument to Dan Donnelly, Donnelly’s Hollow, the Curragh, Co. Kildare

The series of footprints leading from the base of the monument to the top of Donnelly's Hollow are most unexpected. They are said to have been made by the man himself, as he left the boxing ring on that famous day. I was fairly sceptical myself, although I wouldn’t admit that out loud in Kildare. Supposedly though, from soon after the fight, people were keen to step in his footprints, causing the lasting impression. I can testify to watching numerous children walk the footsteps in the recent past, so, if they've been doing this consistently over the centuries, perhaps their provenance is genuine. ;-)

Donnelly’s footprints, Donnelly’s Hollow, The Curragh

Two hundred years later, my neighbour still tells Donnelly’s story with a sense of pride. Some of my ancestors were surely among the 20,000 who attended the event. John’s father, Andrew Byrne, was only a boy at the time. Maybe he was too young to attend. Nevertheless, he certainly joined in the celebrations afterwards and probably told the story of that day for the rest of his life. Perhaps, both he, and later John, also walked in Donnelly’s footprints. 

Join the Sepia Saturday crew here for more stories and photographs  - Baaa!

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© Black Raven Genealogy

The way they were

One night this week ‘Storm Jake’ battered Ireland, bringing with it gale force winds and freezing temperatures. But with all the comforts of modern living – central heating, double glazing, a warm duvet, and even an electric blanket – it didn’t cost me a moment’s sleep. My nineteenth-century ancestors would not have been so lucky.

Andrew and Anne (Clinch) Byrne, my third great-grandparents, had two boys christened with the name Gareth, two christened Andrew and two girls christened Anne.  Such repeating names are testament to a high rate of infant mortality, more than likely caused by the wretched conditions in which they lived. 

Even, compared to my forefathers in Malahide, it seems those in Co. Kildare were poor. The little cottage where the Byrne family once lived, seen last week on a mid-nineteenth century map in Athgarvan, Co. Kildare, was probably built with clay and thatched with straw. Such dwellings survived in large numbers in this village until the very end of that century and well into the twentieth.[1]

Interior of a mud cabin at Kildare, c. 1870

A government inquiry conducted in the early 1830s makes for sobering reading. Labourers’ cottages in Leinster often had only two rooms, a kitchen and a bedroom, though the poorest only had one. The cottage floor usually comprised the unprepared soil on which the dwelling stood and the roof was often thatched so poorly it leaked in heavy rain.  The tiny windows were rarely glazed, being boarded-up in winter with straw or maybe a piece of old bagging. These homes were dark and gloomy.[2]

One redeeming feature might have been the fireplace, used for heating and cooking. Kildare boasts a large area of bog, so turf fuel was probably readily available. You can imagine the little cottage being cosy on a good night, when the neighbours gathered for the music and the craic… but in winter?  How did they endure the cold, and the damp and the drafts?

And, it’s not as if they had comfortable furniture and bedding.  There were probably a few stools, a rough table and possibly a dresser. Often, there was only one bed, shared by the parents and all their younger children. As the children reached about eight or nine years old, they typically moved to separate beds of straw on the floor, one bed for the boys and one for the girls. In poorer cottages there was no bedstead at all and everyone slept on the floor.  Can you imagine?  It’s hard to believe. This is how ‘our’ ancestors lived. It probably wasn’t even fit for my ponies.

Blankets were also scarce, seemingly. Many were comprised of a patchwork quilt of old coats or other coarse unwanted materials, stitched together. In some cases, the only blanket was the man’s ‘great-coat’ and the whole family huddled beneath it for warmth at night. On a wet day, you can imagine the kids thinking, ‘Dad, get in out of the rain’ as they contemplated another long damp night shivering in the dark.[3]

William Henry Carter, Esq, a gentleman from Kilcullen, just two miles from Athgarvan, described living conditions in his area in the early 1830s as: 

‘Generally miserable: mud houses, thatched with straw; badly furnished. Bedsteads not general; bedding would be wretched were it not for the blankets given from ladies’ associations, and private charity’.[4]   

I find myself seeking evidence that ‘my’ ancestors had a better life than this, but it’s doubtful. A taxation survey in 1853 placed a rateable valuation of only fifteen shillings a year on Andrew Byrne’s house and potato garden. There were worse hovels houses than this in the area, but only just.[5]

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[1] House and Building Return (Form B), Blackrath and Athgarvan, Co. Kildare, 1901 Census, National Archives of Ireland.

[2] Poor Inquiry (Ireland), Appendix E, First Report of the Commissioners, 1836, pp 42-43, accessed Google Books.

[3] Same, pp 71-73.

[4] Same, Supplement to Appendix E, p. 60.

[5] Griffith’s Valuation, 1853, Blackrath and Athgarvan, Greatconnell, Co. Kildare, accessed Ask About Ireland.

Image credit: Print collection of Maggie Land Blanck, citing the Illustrated London News, 9 April 1870. 

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(c) Black Raven Genealogy