In Confey (Leixlip) - the hidden original graveyard

Confey is the first modern cemetery I wrote about, back in early July. I discussed benches and the specificity of children's graves, and I somewhat heavily hinted at the fact that I would be writing more about Confey. I can't believe it has been over a month and I have written about so much else before actually coming back to Confey. Our first visit there was in early June, and at the time we thought it was simply a modern cemetery, not one of those typically Irish places with a ruined church and creeping ivy. We were wrong, as we would find out about a month later, after starting this blog led me to dive into taphophile Twitter and made me realise I was far from alone in my fascination for Irish places of the dead. One of these fellow-taphophiles, Stephen Callaghan, is based in Lucan, County Dublin, which is so close of course we had to get together and visit graveyards. The first time we met was in Leixlip, and he took us on our second visit to Confey.

I did not immediately realise there was a whole part of it I had not seen, and simply thought visiting the same place again with someone who is involved in a local history society and knows more about Irish funerary culture was bound to be interesting. It turned out to actually be a visit to a whole different place. You might remember this picture from my first post about Confey, in which I explained that this early 20th century headstone had felt somehow out of place, isolated in a corner of the cemetery and surrounded with creeping vegetation. In retrospect, I think simply having a closer look should have made me realise how much of said vegetation was made up of ivy and yew trees - typically a sign of an old graveyard. But I did not realise then, and it led to a happy surprise a few weeks later.

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The old graveyard hidden behind Confey modern cemetery is so small and surrounded with trees it makes it difficult to take a picture that conveys the impression one has when entering it. The first thing is the church. It is a ruin, of course, but its walls are rather well preserved and it is possible to enter it. Around it are marked graves and scattered rocks, often half hidden with ivy and very high grass. The numerous trees make it comparatively dark, but also give it a feeling of deep quiet and a form of protection. Perhaps a video conveys that impression best, with the bonus sound of the inevitable Irish wind :

The video ends when the camera is turned towards the entrance of the church, with its typically Irish doorway, as is also visible within the church, with its chancel arch (left). I never really discussed architecture in English and indeed haven't had much practice in any language since I completed my Art History degree over 10 years ago, so please forgive me (and correct me) if I'm using the wrong terms. Voussoirs are these wedge-shaped stones that allow the arch to take form and support the weight of the wall. They are found in any type of architecture, so long as it includes an arch. But in medieval Ireland they had a look of their own; more irregular in cut and sometimes they looked almost flat. If you type "voussoirs" in a search engine, you'll see something very different from this typically Irish shape. For example, in this picture (below) taken at Bective Abbey, Co. Meath, the orange voussoirs have a more "usual" shape (although not quite regular), but there is still this typically Irish version on top. By the way, Bective Abbey is a fascinating piece of architecture where the different stages of construction are perfectly visible (including with this window, which clearly used to be larger), definitely a place to see.

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But let's go back to the main focus of this blog: the graveyard. The first thing that would strike any visitor is that it seems to have been completely left to itself, and much of it is starting to get eaten by nature, including "inside" the church (the picture to the right below was taken inside).

Some people would deem this a sad sight and urge for immediate restoration, but this green, leafy aspect is also what makes much of the charm of the place and gives it a specific, very peaceful atmosphere. It is also much more flowery than most graveyards, that get mowed far too regularly for any wildlife to develop. After all, if we have to die and be put in the earth, the places we are put to rest might as well contribute to the growth of nature, and life.

This very idea of the continuity of human life symbolised in the growth of nature is a recurring theme on Irish recumbent slabs, and two of them at Confey drew my attention. Both display the frequent motifs of a central IHS written within a shining sun and framed by foliage (ending in a spiral on the first stone). What is less usual is that more foliage is growing out the sacred heart drawn directly below the IHS sign. This is even more sriking on the second such stone (below): the style is different and the carvings have more relief. What is growing out of the sacred heart is clearly foliage, and the ferns on either side are carved in a very specific style which brought me back again to when I was studying Art History. In September 2012, I completed a Masters dissertation on early Christian art in Ireland and its "Celtic" influences. And here I need to debunk a tenacious myth: despite its international reputation as the most Celtic of countries, there is a good chance Ireland was never actually inhabited by the Celts, but Irish art was definitely influenced by Celtic culture and designs. It was also influenced to a lesser extent by Roman culture, but never ruled over by Rome, which might explain why Celtic designs endured in Ireland long after they had faded from the rest of Europe. The reason I am mentioning this is because of small circles carved out in the foliage below (left picture). They reminded me of

embossed enamel and filigrane in largely non-figurative Celtic metal art.

I am writing this based on memories that are getting old, but if you'd like to know more the excellent Irish Passport Podcast (by journalist Naomi O'Leary and lecturer Tim McInerney) devoted an episode to the Celts. As for more scholarly sources, it is probably getting outdated, but when I was writing my thesis The Age of Migrating Ideas was of enormous importance in debunking the preconceived idea of "pure" insular Celtic art.

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In the middle of this lush foliage - real or symbolic alike - one grave seems more looked after than the rest of the old graveyard. It is on the other side of the church from the others, and is also the most recent grave, that of Private Owen McAuley of the Royal Dublin Fusilliers, who died in 1915, at 19 years of age, probably as a result of the war. Soldiers' graves from the British era all look very similar, with different ornaments depending on the regiment the deceased belonged to. This is the only grave behind the curtain of trees which the ivy is not creeping over, and where vegetation has been intentionally laid or planted. There is no specific date of death on the slab, but the wreath of flowers seemed rather fresh, so there was probably some sort of anniversary in June.