1. Archaeology Ireland 26.1 (Issue 99) Spring 2012: Review
Originally posted online on 4 April 2012 at rmchapple.blogspot.com
(http://rmchapple.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/archaeology-ireland-261-issue-99-spring.html)
Spring is here and so too is the new edition of Archaeology Ireland magazine! As I have
recently taken to providing a slightly annotated contents list of the magazine, I thought
I’d put together a few notes on what’s inside.
In the first major paper in the current edition, Liam Downey, Connie Murphy & Tadhg
O'Keefe report on A possible 'Celtic' icon on the Beara Peninsula. This is recently
rediscovered stone from the townland of Billeragh, Co. Cork. While it appears to have
disappeared from view in recent years, it was known to a number of the older residents
as 'Pete Micheál's god'. The writers describe it as an anthropomorphic figure sitting on
folded legs and compare it to various examples of ‘Celtic’ stone idols from across the
island, as well as phallus-like stones, such as the Lia Fáil at Tara, Co. Meath. While there
is a local folkloric context for the piece, it appears to be relatively recent. The biggest
problem, as I see it, is that the stone cannot be definitely described as being crafted by
human hand – at least not on the basis of the published photographs. Nonetheless, even
if it is a wholly ‘natural’ stone, it does not preclude it from having been the object of
veneration in the past. I do not doubt that this particular item will be the topic of much
further discussion. In News from the Net 25 Eoin Bairéad provides his usual high-
quality round-up of internet related items. Of obvious interest to me is his mention
of The William Dunlop Archaeological Photographic Archive [Facebook page], for which

2. I am very grateful! You can keep up to date with all the links to the stories he mentions,
via his website: here.
Lynda McCormack presents Thoughts on the Loughcrew autumnal equinox. In this
piece, she draws on her personal experiences of visiting Cairn T, passage tomb at
Loughcrew, Co. Meath, for the September 2011 equinox. She uses this experience to
examine some ideas about how we today and the people of the Neolithic may have
experienced such events and how they interpreted their place within them. She uses a
quote from John Berger: “an image can outlast that which it represents” to explore the
idea that the Neolithic viewpoint is irrecoverable, but that the physical remains of the
cemetery still allow for interpretation and exploration. In Derrycarhoon: a Bronze Age
copper mine in west Cork William O'Brien & Nick Hogan present early results on the
excavation of a near-vertical mine shaft. The site is of interest as it is the first instance
where this form of mining – vertical excavation and without the use of fire-setting - has
been identified. The authors trace the modern history of the mine’s discovery in 1846
(when it was considered to be a ‘Danish mine’), and the controversy in recent times as to
whether it should be considered as a Bronze Age or a Medieval endeavour. A
programme of survey has identified two 19th century mine shafts and six ancient rock-
cut trenches. The excavation of one of these (Mine 5b-1) produced samples of worked
wood and antler, dating to the Bronze Age. Similarly, trenches excavated through the
central area of spoil heaps produced fragments of stone hammers and portions of
waterlogged wood. A series of dates on the wood indicated that they were broadly
contemporary with the results from the vertical shaft. The recovered artefacts include
numerous broken stone hammers, a wooden wedge, a number of hazel prise-sticks, and
a portion of an antler pick. The paper also adds seven new radiocarbon determinations
to the Irish Radiocarbon & Dendrochronological Dates Catalogue [Facebook], for which
I am very grateful. I should also mention the magnificent illustration of the mine shaft
on p15. It is a laser-scan profile through Mine 5b-1 and the surrounding forest. Not only
is it an immensely detailed and scientifically-accurate rendering of the shaft, it is also an
extremely evocative image. It gives, to me, at least, a vivid impression of the human
scale of the mine workings at Derrycarhoon and some feeling for what it must have been
like to toil there to extract copper ore.
Alan Nowell is back with Babylon to Banagher, where he attempts to trace elements of
ritual dances with links to Freemasonry. This is his third foray in the pages
of Archaeology Ireland into the wild world of danced ritual (Nowell 2005, 2010). His
thesis is that a number of carvings of 8th to 9th century date represent portions of a
‘hopping dance’ and how that the sacred nature of this ritual was, somehow, preserved
in modern Freemasonry. Nowell posits that some form of quasi-Masonic group was
active in Ireland during the Early Christian period and that they possessed knowledge of
both stone carving and these ritual dances. His belief is that these dancers arrived from
the east and then goes on to cite a range of Babylonian decorated artefacts of, I think,
around 1000 BC. He interprets the designs as each showing four men engaged in a
circle-dance of some sort. To explain the two millennia that separate these items and the
Irish high cross carvings, he invokes the possibility of the design having been carved
only on perishable items. The latest piece in his ‘quest’ is the discovery of a marble disc
from Babylon, now housed in the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin. Nowell sees significance

3. in the Babylonian context in that the city was ‘the epicentre of Masonic lore and legend,
with a huge presence in the Old Testament!’ While there are frequent references to
Babylon in the Old Testament, there is little, if anything, in modern Masonic ritual
about the city – much less that it is seen as an epicentre of lore and legend. I am
indebted to Rt. W. Bro. Robert T. Bashford for pointing out that, from the 1723
publication of James Anderson’s ‘Constitutions’, there has been much written by
Freemasons attempting to trace the origin of their Order back to Babylon and beyond,
though it appears to be fanciful self-aggrandisement rather than based on actual
evidence. Unfortunately, Babylon is still frequently associated with Freemasonry, but
only by the conspiracy-theory brigade (see here, here, here, here, and here). In any case,
Nowell sees the five men depicted on the disc as being engaged in a hopping dance,
which has continued in one form or another into the 20th century. In support of the idea
that the Babylonians has secret dancing societies, he cites the ‘evidence’ of George
Ivanovich Gurdjieff’s allegorical work Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson. While there
are many who see Gurdjieff as a charismatic spiritual leader (and good luck to them) he
certainly was not an archaeologist or historian, and this form of material is not evidence
and has no place in a serious discussion. In fairness to Nowell, he is open to the
possibility that he is wrong on some or all of these elements. However, I disagree with
his belief that such links are ‘beyond coincidence’ in explaining the survival of these
dances over a period of over 2000 years. I can only refer him to the words of Dr.
Sheldon Cooper: "This would be one of those circumstances that people unfamiliar with
the law of large numbers would call a coincidence." While I do not agree with any of his
arguments, Nowell is to be congratulated for presenting a set of interesting and thought-
provoking papers. Personally, I hold the view that the high cross carvings are merely
interesting ways of depicting groups of people, interlaced together. I would explain them
as drolleries; without any need to invoke a hopping-dance ritual to go with them. The
fact that they are found in Early Christian Ireland and ancient Babylon may be simply
explained as two similar, but unrelated, responses to decorative needs, that only bear
the most passing of resemblances between them. Nonetheless, I do look forward to
Nowell’s next instalment on his personal ‘quest.’
Peter J. Gibson in Geophysical imaging of the Leamonaghan togher describes an
investigation of a stone trackway or ‘togher’ in Co. Offaly. The togher runs for over 350m
from a well dedicated to St. Manchan to a rectangular stone enclosure, dedicated to St.
Mella. Within the enclosure is a single-cell stone oratory, also dedicated to the saint. The
enclosure, oratory and togher are all thought to be contemporary, and date to the 11th
century. Ground Penetrating Radar (GPR) was applied to the togher in both exposed
and covered areas, with the intention of determining its internal structure. Although the
lines along the togher appeared quite chaotic, the lines across it indicate that it is
constructed from different material than exists on either side of it, continuing to a depth
of 2m. This work was followed up by a programme of resistivity imaging. These methods
indicate that the togher was not built simply as a layer of stones on the ground surface.
Instead, it appears that a trench was first dug and then backfilled, before being capped
with stones. This was no small undertaking: it is estimated that this trench was 2m
deep, 3m wide and ran for the entire 350m length of the togher. My first reaction is that
it seems like an awful lot of work to go to, to provide well drained trackway – as I am

4. unable to think of any other reason to undertake such a feat. I look forward to seeing the
results of excavations here that may resolve these interesting issues.
Neill Mac Coitir takes on the tricky subject of the roots of ogham in his
paper: The Ogham alphabet - a military origin? He prefaces the piece with a general
round-up of the scholarship on the topic to date. The alphabet was probably invented in
the 2nd or 3rd centuries AD and was initially used on wooden objects, before being
transferred to stone in the 4th century AD. It is most commonly found in Ireland, Wales,
Cornwall, and the Isle of Man. Mac Coitir repeats James Carney’s theory that ogham
was essentially a military cipher, not intended to be read by common people. In defence
of this thesis he cites ogham’s use by Cúchulainn in a number of military settings
(ignoring that these tales were not written down until the 14th or 15th centuries and all
the caveats that go with that). He contrasts this with the single use of the ogham script
recorded in early Irish literature by a druid. Carney does not appear to have attempted
to develop this theory further, apparently for lack of evidence. Mac Coitir, unfortunately,
does not have any additional evidence to add to the discussion, but he does attempt to
provide a theoretical framework for the development of ogham and a vector for its
dissemination. The theory is quite simple. Going by Ptolemy’s ‘map’ there are tribes
called Brigantes in both south-east Ireland (which he describes as the ‘heartland’ for
later ogham inscriptions, though that is patently not the case) and in modern-day
Yorkshire and Lancashire. While modern scholarship is unable to prove any firm links
between these two groups, Mac Coitir claims that ‘it is plausible to assume that ties of
kinship linked the Brigantes of Britain and Ireland.’ Just for the record, Strabo mentions
the Brigantii, a sub-grouping of the Vindelici, living in the Alps, but no one is proposing
that all three tribes are related to each other. The northern Brigantes are significant in
Mac Coitir’s thesis as the site of the Roman auxiliary fort of Vindolanda lies within their
territory. Vindolanda is the site from which several hundred letters, written on wooden
sheets, were recovered during excavations in the 1970s and 1980s. The author suggests
that members of the Irish Brigantes went to Roman Britain in the 2nd or 3rd centuries
AD and were recruited into the local garrison. While this is around the correct date for
the majority of the letters, it is not believed that local troops were recruited at
Vindolanda until the early third century AD, at the very earliest. He suggests that a
recruit that showed promise might have been taught the Latin alphabet and been moved
up the ranks. On returning home this putative military veteran may have seen the
advantage of adapting the Latin alphabet to use in early Irish, thus inventing ogham.
The belief is that the popularity of this script was taken up by other tribes and its
popularity spread, though remaining strongest in the south-east. All things considered,
Mac Coitir has produced an interesting, stimulating paper that is well worth a read.
Unfortunately, I feel that it is merely a construct where one supposition is perched
precariously on top of another, and all devoid of hard evidence to back it up.
In The pitfields of Rathcroghan, Co. Roscommon Gary Dempsey examines the
phenomena of a large number of sub-rectangular depressions in the ‘Royal landscape’
around Tulsk, Co. Roscommon. These pitfields appear to be peculiar to the Rathcroghan
landscape and are not found in other areas. They are generally 10m long by 2-3m wide
and up to 0.5m deep. Estimates place their number in the range from 1500 to 2000.
Various theories have been proposed for their origin, including the possibility that they

5. are natural features resulting from faults in the underlying bedrock. Indeed, the
prevalent pit alignments of north/north-west and north/north-east match up with the
pattern of jointing in the natural bedrock. Other work suggests that they are the result of
glacial plucking of the bedrock, and that they date from the last Ice Age. An alternative
position is that they are humanly created features, possibly dating from the 17th century
onwards. One suggestion is that they were created to mix subsoil with topsoil, to
improve the fertility of the local soil. Other suggestions for their use include having been
used as sources of clay or rocks, or for collecting water etc. It does appear that a number
of these pits are cut into older monuments, but are overlain by post-Medieval field
boundaries. While not conclusive, this could suggest that they are manmade, though
they certainly date to after the main phases of prehistoric activity in the Rathcroghan
complex. While Dempsey is unable to put forward any definite answers to these
questions, he does call for more research and further investigation. I, for one, look
forward to seeing what such excavations reveal.
In Achill Henge - Stonehenge or Clonehenge Geraldine Stout wonders about what this
recent addition to the Mayo landscape says about modern Irish society. This
monstrosity defacing the countryside (just so we’re clear on what I think of it) is
composed of 30 vertical concrete blocks with joining lintels. The whole is 30m in
diameter and is up to 4.5m tall. While Stout makes some spirited comparisons between
this modern example and its Neolithic cousins, it is the comparisons with other
members of the Clonehenge tradition that are most enlightening. In these examples the
Stonehenge image has been appropriated and manipulated for a whole variety of
reasons from the commemoration of Franco’s victims, to more whimsical versions
created by the artist Banksy. Interestingly, Stout acknowledges that the way in which the
henge has taken on a life of its own may not have been part of the original intention of
its creator. Echoing Lynda McCormack’s paper earlier in this volume, there is the feeling
that new audiences create and recreate the image of the monument, its meaning, and its
symbolism in myriad ways, all of which may be beyond the control of the originator.
Marion Dowd, in Lithics with an identity crisis, tells the interesting story of the recovery
of a range of worked lithics and shells from the topsoil in her garden at Dromahair, Co.
Leitrim. Further investigation indicated that the topsoil may have been transported
nearly 30km, from a site at Larass/Strandhill, Co. Sligo. She presents an excellent
argument that, though limited, such finds can still contribute to our knowledge of
prehistoric activity. Dowd also notes that we should be mindful that some artefacts
recovered from the plough zone may not be directly associated with the area in which
they are found. Although long-distance transport (of the kind that resulted in the
Dromahair discovery) is probably unlikely before the modern period, she does caution
that even 18th and 19th landscaping could have involved significant movement of soil.
This reminds me of the story (probably apocryphal) of an archaeologist being sent out
from the National Museum in Dublin to a suburban address in that city to examine a
beautiful collection of flint artefacts being regularly collected from the topsoil. The story,
as it was told to me, had the archaeologists opening a number of trenches across the
garden and recovering loads more finished artefacts, but finding no underlying features.
It was only when one of the artefacts was found to have the remains of a paper label
adhering to it that someone thought to check on who had lived in the house in the past.

6. It turned out that the house had been home to an antiquarian collector and, after his
death, his family simply threw his collection out into the garden as no one was
interested in it! Whatever the truth of my story, Dowd's paper is a useful reminder that
all may not be as it seems when recovering artefacts from the plough zone. This is not
the first time that Archaeology Ireland has featured this type of story. In 2004 the
magazine published a note from Paul Clarke (2004, 5) recounting the discovery of a
hollow based arrowhead on the road at Annaghkeen, near Headford, Co. Galway, that
probably fell off a machine transporting soil.
In Graveyard 'clean-ups' in County Mayo Suzanne Zajac reviews the various sources of
advice for those interested in graveyard conservation. She identifies the significant
problem of the conflict between these sites as living parts of the local community, and
simultaneously, as part of our historic past. Conflicts can arise when the need to
conserve and protect the archaeological remains come comes into contact with the
desire to expand burial areas or to create access points. Zajac illustrates these points in
terms of some work carried out at the graveyard at Claggan, Co. Mayo. To place the
Claggan project in context, she notes the damage that a well-meaning, but ill-informed,
group did to Ardagh church, Co. Mayo, in 2009. This incident of damage to a monument
led to a moratorium on similar graveyard work. It also prompted the publication of a
circular from the Rural Social Scheme (RRS) of ‘dos’ and ‘don’ts’ (Circular RRS
15/2009) for graveyard ‘clean-up’ projects. While Zajac agrees with the requirement to
work closely with County Councils, she argues that ‘a sustainable way forward’ for
graveyards still in public use needs to be formulated. She sees the compilation of an
inventory of graveyards in Mayo as a positive first step in this direction, but feels that
there is still some way to go.
Muiris O'Sullivan and Liam Downey continue their long-running series of ‘Know your
monuments’ with a look at Passage tombs and megalithic art. As is usual for this series,
they present an excellent summation of what a passage tomb is and what its diagnostic
features are etc. After a brief introduction to the various elements and styles of
decoration the authors discuss the Boyne Valley complex, the largest concentration of
megalithic art anywhere in Europe. Outside of the Boyne Valley, short, but informative,
sections detail recent research at Knockroe, Co. Kilkenny, and a number of sites in Co.
Sligo. The final section details the dating and origins of the form, along with a brief
examination of the shared elements and differences with rock art.
As has been the usual format of Archaeology Ireland for the last several years, the final
postings are the inspired whimsy of Herodotus of Ballycarnassus. In Sovereign debt and
sofas Herodotus notes how the court case by the Spanish government has succeeded in
returning 17 tonnes of treasure from the 1804 wreck of the Nuestra Señora de las
Mercedes. The Spanish have said that the coins, valued at $500m, represent cultural
heritage and will not be used to pay back the country’s debt … I’m sure we’ll see how
that one goes! In Warrior burials he quotes W. F. Wakeman’s Handbook of Irish
Antiquities about King Laoghaire being buried standing upright to face his enemies, and
how the Ulstermen got around this practice by reburying Eoghan Bel, King of
Connaught, face down. As an aside, it may be noted that these two notes are,

7. respectively, his 134th and 135th pieces published in Archaeology Ireland since his
debut in Spring 1998 – a truly impressive feat of sustained archaeological drollery!
As is pretty obvious from the forgoing, I do not agree with all of the points raised in all
of the articles in this issue – that is as it should be! If you are interested in Irish
archaeology, at whatever level, I would urge you to go out and buy a copy of the latest
issue of Archaeology Ireland. Better still, take out a subscription – this way you get a
better deal on the magazine cover price, it is delivered to your door, you get access to the
Irish journals on JSTOR and you get the latest issue in the Archaeology
Ireland Heritage Guide series. The current one is The Burren, Co. Clare: a guide to the
medieval landscape by Elizabeth FitzPatrick. At the very least, petition your local library
to stock it! Archaeology Ireland has established itself as a vital artery of communication
for both professional archaeologists and the interested public and it deserves our
support.
References:
Clarke, P. 2004 ‘News: it fell off the back of a lorry’ Archaeology Ireland 18.1, 5.
Nowell, A. 2005 ‘An insular dance - the dance of the Fer Cengail?’ Archaeology
Ireland 19.2, 36-39.
Nowell, A. ‘2010 ‘Dance traces surviving in the ritual of Freemasonry’ Archaeology
Ireland 24.1, 26-30.
Notes:
In one publication (Nowell 2005), the author’s name is erroneously given as ‘Newell’.
Archaeology Ireland issue 18.1 was erroneously issued as 17.4.
Unfortunately, I have been unable to find an online link to Circular RRS 15/2009.
Archaeology Ireland is a quarterly publication from Wordwell Books. It is aimed at both
specialists and the general reader. Go and buy a copy today!