The Modern Confey Graveyard, Leixlip, Co. Kildare

One day, as we were planning to cycle to Dublin along the Royal Canal and I was checking the route, I suddenly realised the map mentioned a graveyard in Leixlip, just off the canal, so of course we had to stop there on our way back. That's how we went to Confey for the first time (yes, there will be a second episode, soon, but for now please focus on this one). At first sight, Confey looks much like the type of cemeteries we have in France: much more organised rows of tombs than in my adored old Irish graveyards, and mostly polished granite (basically fake marble) headstones. But it is Ireland, so celtic crosses are never too far either, and there are trees as well, though not many as in old churchyards.

Honestly, I don't get why polished headstones have become so popular everywhere. They all look the same, which most of the time means not very good. But despite this tendency, Irish graveyards still look much better than French ones for two reasons: 1- there are still Celtic crosses and the occasional unpolished headstone creating some diversity (and even the polished headstones are more diverse here than they are in France); 2- you have this "open", uncovered plot which can be appropriated. In France, most graves have a complete vault, which means even more fake marble and no space for appropriation (except with a few engraved slates, usually made of fake marble as well). This link will lead you to examples of typical stones as sold in a French "marbrerie". As a teenager, I was so fed-up with these stones all looking the same I actually considered becoming a headstone designer: something had to be done! But I dropped it because I could not draw well enough. Also, pursuing an education and a career in research seemed more realistic then (oh, the irony of the early 21st century).

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So the most interesting thing in modern Irish graveyards is the possibility for appropriation of the grave by the grieving family, and that is something the Irish do particularly well. In my very first post, I mentioned the materiality of the relationship between the living and the dead. This materiality can be sad, humoristic, or simply a reference to everyday life such as the deceased's former job or hobbies. We found examples of all of those at Confey. One element is recurring in Irish graveyards which I never saw anywhere else: benches. They seem to be inviting people to just sit down and chat to the dead person buried there, thus clearly materialising a relationship between those who are dead and those who remain. In Confey, two benches in particular caught my attention.

Paradoxically, this first bench is turned towards the viewer, not the grave, and it is clearly not meant for anyone to actually sit. The headstone says the person buried there is remembered as a husband, dad, and grandad; and he died at 54, so his grand-children can hardly have been any older than these two kids. My guess is that this is a way for grandad and grandkids to keep each-other company beyond death, while at the same time the fact that the children face outwards leaves it open for anyone else to pay him a visit. It is not the main point, but this grave is also representative of the everyday materiality of death in Ireland, with objects like the dog figurine or the garden gnome, which are simply ornamental, not specifically related to death. Finally, if you have a quick look at the two graves behind, you'll notice another advantage of the "empty" kerb: in some cases the family use it for flowers to grow directly form the grave, which simultaneously looks much nicer than our French full-stone thing, and is also a much less austere symbol of death as part of the cycle rather than just a cold, solemn separation.

The second bench-grave is even more fascinating to me, and it is original even for an Irish grave. Most of the time, Irish graves are simply made of a rectangular kerb with a slab at the head, and in the case of bench-graves a small, low bench is added at the foot (they are actually really low, and sitting on them does not look comfortable at all). This grave is about twice as wide as normal, with the usual "open" kerb, and an additional rectangular full stone supporting the bench, which is much larger and looks much more "real" and comfortable than any other grave bench I've seen. Clearly this man's wife and children do come to sit here, and there is a picture of them encased in the seat back to keep him company even when they are not physically there.

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This way of favorising a material connection to the dead is particularly striking in Irish graveyards compared to French ones, and the result is that it is not only the memory of the dead person which is kept alive, it is the actual relationship they had with the living, and their individual characteristics. It can be done in anecdotal or fun ways, like with this pint of Guinness fronting one of the headstones in Confey. This, and other ornamental elements are so directly related with what the dead person enjoyed in life, it almost feels like some sort of offering to continue enjoying it beyond death.

The saddest version of such offerings is probably when they apply to children's graves. These are also a distinctive feature of Irish graveyards, though I can't be certain whether if it is because there are more of them than in France or simply because they are different (I'll discuss some aspects of this in a future post). When walking in an Irish graveyard, I recognise a child's grave almost immediately because there tend to be many more ornamental objects, and these are often either angels (representing their innocence) or "offerings" - mostly animal figurines or toys.

To me, this represents the epitome of the Irish child's grave. The boy buried there was 3 years of age when he died. The plot is almost overflowing with tokens and "offerings". The tiny Cupid at the bottom reminds us of the child's innocence. The rest are mostly animals (an owl, funny penguins, hedgehogs, dogs, a doe, a duck, a cat, a polar bear, a sheep, ladybirds, and even a meerkat standing left of the headstone) and toys, and a strange stone with teeth (maybe a reference to an animated film I don't know about?). Given the types of toys left on his grave, this boy seems to have had a thing for trains (there is even a stone locomotive "traveling" along the kerb).

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This first visit to Confey was also my first visit to an Irish graveyard with almost exclusively recent graves. It was both a discovery of forms of remembering I wasn't familiar with and a confirmation of one of the major cultural tendencies already present in the Irish 19th century and beyond - the importance of community and relationship, here expressed through the maintenance of a material connection between the living and the dead.

In the midst of all these modern monuments, one tombstone felt slightly out of place:

Hidden in a corner of the graveyard, on the verge of getting swallowed by the surrounding vegetation, this stone was erected in the early 20th century and looks right out of the Celtic Revival, with the shamrock creeping up its front, the sacred heart in the centre, and the embossed celtic motives. Little did I imagine, when I took this picture, that the vegetation slowly creeping over this grave, was literally connecting it to the original, medieval Confey churchyard. But that is a story for some other time...