Established 1967 www.lucannewsletter.ie Sub. 80c Sunday 3 rd November 2019 The story behind ‘Amazing Grace’ One of the most well-known hymns in the Christian tradition is the old favourite ‘Amazing Grace’. In recent weeks it has reappeared on our Sunday Missalettes and people join in with great gusto. The origin of Amazing Grace is an interesting one; it was composed by a man called John Newton whose personal story is reflected in the words he penned. He was the captain of a slave ship in 18 th century England whose early life was a miserable tale of drunkenness and ‘loose living’. While at sea in March 1748 the ship encountered a violent storm, which came close to sinking it. It was during this storm that he cried out to God for mercy, he later reflected that this was the first time he had uttered such a prayer in life as he had always imagined himself beyond mercy’s reach. “I thought there never was or could be such a sinner as myself; I concluded that my sins were too great to be forgiven. ’The damaged ship sailed up Lough Swilly where the locals welcomed them and set about repairing the ship. He lodged in Derry and attended prayers daily in St. Columb’s Cathedral. From this time, John Newton’s life began to change as he came to realise that God’s grace could save even a ‘wretch’ like him! Others soon noticed the difference when he stopped swearing and his behaviour altered. But he still had much to learn. Despite his spiritual awakening he continued to work in the ‘slave trade’ such was his self- interest and acceptance of the culture of the day. It was only when he came under the influence of the preaching of John Wesley and the anti-slavery campaigner William Wilberforce that the horror of the whole wretched business brought him to his senses. John Newton went on to become a clergyman in the Church of England and a staunch opponent of slavery – his journey had led him to conversion of heart. In February 1807 when the bill to finally outlaw slavery was passed through the British parliament, John by now nearly blind and near death, "rejoiced to hear the wonderful news." His story is a real testament to the power of God’s grace on even the most hardened of human hearts. Amazing grace, How sweet the sound 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, That saved a wretch like me. And grace my fears relieved. I once was lost, but now I am found, How precious did that grace appear Was blind, but now I see. The hour I first believed. Philip Curran St. Mary’s Lucan
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Established 1967 www.lucannewsletter.ie Sub. 80c
Sunday 3rd
November 2019
The story behind ‘Amazing Grace’
One of the most well-known hymns in the Christian tradition is the
old favourite ‘Amazing Grace’. In recent weeks it has reappeared
on our Sunday Missalettes and people join in with great gusto.
The origin of Amazing Grace is an interesting one; it was composed
by a man called John Newton whose personal story is reflected in
the words he penned. He was the captain of a slave ship in 18th
century England whose early life was a miserable tale of
drunkenness and ‘loose living’. While at sea in March 1748 the
ship encountered a violent storm, which came close to sinking it. It
was during this storm that he cried out to God for mercy, he later reflected that this was the first time
he had uttered such a prayer in life as he had always imagined himself beyond mercy’s reach. “I thought there never was or could be such a sinner as myself; I concluded that my sins were too great
to be forgiven.
’The damaged ship sailed up Lough Swilly where the locals welcomed them and set about repairing
the ship. He lodged in Derry and attended prayers daily in St. Columb’s Cathedral. From this time,
John Newton’s life began to change as he came to realise that God’s grace could save even a ‘wretch’
like him! Others soon noticed the difference when he stopped swearing and his behaviour altered. But
he still had much to learn.
Despite his spiritual awakening he continued to work in the ‘slave trade’ such was his self- interest
and acceptance of the culture of the day. It was only when he came under the influence of the
preaching of John Wesley and the anti-slavery campaigner William Wilberforce that the horror of the
whole wretched business brought him to his senses.
John Newton went on to become a clergyman in the Church of England and a staunch opponent of
slavery – his journey had led him to conversion of heart.
In February 1807 when the bill to finally outlaw slavery was passed through the British parliament,
John by now nearly blind and near death, "rejoiced to hear the wonderful news."
His story is a real testament to the power of God’s grace on even the most hardened of human hearts.
Amazing grace, How sweet the sound 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
That saved a wretch like me. And grace my fears relieved.
I once was lost, but now I am found, How precious did that grace appear
Was blind, but now I see. The hour I first believed.
from Finnstown House. Between 1940 and 1947, I lived in the gate lodge of Esker Lodge
(property of the Kennedy family). We lived at
the main entrance which was on the left (coming
from Esker Cottages) about 150 yards from the
bridge over the river Griffeen, with St Finians
Church in view about 400 yards North. Thence
for a few months we resided in a thatched house
at Stacumney, Hazelhatch. Between 1947 and
1950 we resided in another thatched house at
Finnstown, Lucan, opposite Somerton where
Misses Vitch and O’Callaghan farmed at the time. Finally from 1950 until 1964 I lived in old
Dodsborough from whence I moved to
Dunboyne when I got married. I went to
National School in Lucan between 1944 and
1952 and the Technical School between 1952
and 1954. My first year at
‘Tech’ was at its old location beside ‘Fullfills’
garage at Tandy’s Lane.
Wartime Esker During the 1940’s and 50’s Esker was a very
rural area and a relatively lonely place. As a
small boy during the World War 2 ‘Emergency’
period, I vividly remember on dark wintry nights the searchlights from Baldonnel aerodrome criss-
crossing one another as the drone of aircraft
overhead made a child filled with a mixture of
excitement and trepidation ask his Dad “whose
aeroplanes are they”? “Not to worry son they are
only practising, it is time for your bed.”
At that time St Finian’s Church was covered in a
mantle of ivy. The entrance gateway to the
churchyard was inset off the roadway: a short
grassy avenue leading up to it. As youngsters
during the ‘Emergency’ we were fascinated one day as we watched the Army set up camp at the
entrance complete with their armoured cars. To
my young mind there was a touch of magic when
a soldier snapped open a little secret trapdoor on
the butt of his rifle and out popped a little brass
bottle! It was my first introduction to the 303”
Lee-Enfield rifle and its oil bottle and also the
Mark VI Ford armoured car: however not
surprisingly I did not know their names then. I
remember adults at the time saying that the Army
were on the lookout for escaped prisoners. In
latter years I surmise this could be around July
1942 after the Derby Day escape by interned
airmen from the Curragh Camp.
Sights and sounds which bring back very fond
and nostalgic memories of growing up around
Lucan in the 1940’s and 50’s included the 9
Army Air Corps Seafires in formation in the
distance and watching as they banked as one and
started approaching where you stood. Flying low
overhead their colours changed from blue to
green with their vivid tricolours adorning their
wings; whilst the crescendo from the Merlin
engines reverberated in your ears. It was truly a
sight to behold and remember. Around Easter
time in the early 1950’s would be the opportune time to see these Seafires as they practiced for
the Military Parade in Dublin city.
Canal Barge Next choice would be a late Summers evening
after a hot sunny day, if you were in the general
area of the Grand Canal. A tut-tut-tut sound
could be heard far off but seemingly coming
nearer: it was the birdsong of the single cylinder
Bolinder engine of canal barge. It seemed a very
homely, friendly, reassuring sound; at least you
knew that there were some human beings about,
especially if where you were was remote and lonely. Clambering onto the canal bank you
waved to the helmsman as the barge passed by.
The side rounded bow lay low in the water from
its cargo of dark peat bound for Dublin city. The
crew were lean weather beaten and bronzed and
wise to the ‘ways’ of these inland waters:
wayfarers in a class of their own.
Lastly is the sound of an old Threshing Mill in
action with its characteristic dun-dun-dun-dun
rising and falling repetitive rhythm.
Gollierstown and Its Environs I spent quiet a lot of my youth with friends and
sometimes alone exploring, picnicking, fishing and hunting in this area: from 1947 to the early
1960’s. Even over the past 30 odd years I do not
think the area changed much: in short it is a
hinterland of Lucan which quite a lot if people
are unfamiliar with. I am writing this article to
endeavour to try and impart a little pleasure and
happiness to other folk who may have a liking
for quite rural backwaters and perhaps are not
aware such retreats exist nearby.
Over……..
Towpath Trek A very enjoyable, pleasant, educational
‘Towpath trek’ from the 12th lock to Hazelhatch
Bridge, 3.5 miles, (or just to Gollierstown Bridge
if so desired) can be had if the weather is at all
fine. A rucksack containing a thermos flask of
tea/coffee and sandwiches will sustain one, so as
to stay out longer and explore more fully.
Obviously all waterways have potential dangers
especially for children but the ponds visited on
this trek can be extra hazardous so strict
supervision should be kept on younger folk.
Now best foot forward! Starting on the right
hand side at the 12th lock, we pass by the former
Grange Mills and shortly afterwards the 12th
Lock Bar (previously called The Foxes Head). A
few hundred yards further on you slip around a
wooden gate which straddles the towpath: ¾ of a mile ahead you can see Gollierstown Bridge. A
short while later the high bush-covered bank on
your right drops away and a flat open area of
marshy ground unfolds.
However, soon after the bank on your right rises
again, as does the bank on the far side of the
canal: so as you near Gollierstown Bridge the
canal is actually going through a cutting in the
terrain. Near the bridge the ruins of an old
cottage shows up near the left bank. If you
continue under the bridge the landscape opens out unto a vista of grassy hillocks, May bushes
and the ponds themselves. If you retrace your
steps back from under the bridge and clamber up
the steep bank and on to the carriageway of the
bridge you will get a good general view of your
surroundings. The nicest time to visit
Gollierstown is in May and June when the May
bushes on the mini ‘drumlins’ are in bloom and
the Roach, Rudd and Perch are taking the bait on
your fishing rod. From the bridge looking east
you can just discern the lock gates at the 12th
Lock where you left a while ago. Turning your head left, in the foreground you will see the
roofless ruins of old dwelling houses and farm
buildings. This is in a sense the hidden away and
forgotten village of Gollierstown.
People lived here in the earlier part of this
century, it being part of the Finnstown Estate.
The Waldron family once owned the Estate, it
stretched from the Eagle Lodge, Newcastle Road to Hazelhatch, encompassing over 1,000 acres.
The Nash family used to manufacture mineral
water over at Finnstown House around the early
part of this century. Their Ginger Beer glazed
earthenware bottles are much sought after by
collectors as they make very pleasing and quaint
shelf ornaments.
Snug ‘Dugout’ In your immediate foreground you will observe
dense bushes and brambles. Under these
brambles (up to the early 1950’s) was once a
very well made cosy and snug ‘dugout’ dwelling
inhabited by an old World War 1 veteran. It is long since gone as is also the veteran. I saw
inside it one day, it was built of stones and sods
with the stones formed into an arch to make the
roof: the old veteran must have learned his
sapping skills in the trenches of the Western
Front, as it was a work of art. Switching your
head to the right there is a pleasant view of the
Dublin/Wicklow Mountains with Peamount
Hospital in the middle ground. Turning around
we are again looking west with the canal
continuing on a rigid straight course as far as the eye can see, while laid out below are the ponds
and grassy hillocks.
Coming down off the bridge we now continue
along the towpath heading west, after which is
the far side of the canal. We soon pass the old
lime kiln also on that side. The bank on our right
soon rises again, it being sprinkled with
hawthorn and furze bushes. If we now climb up
onto this bank and look north, we are now
looking out over very remote but pleasant
farmland.
Between here and Tubber Lane there are few if
any habitants as there are no roads. Only the
railway line bisects the flattish landscape. An
old map of 1816 names this townland as
Coolsescuddawn. It was over near Stacumney
railway bridge that the East Meath Old I.R.A. set
up an ambush on a train carrying British troops
on the 21st July 1921. However the ambush was
not a success as the authorities had become
aware of roadblocks which volunteers has set up
to seal off the area: so the military were forewarned. Continuing on, another old ruined
house comes into view on the far bank of the
canal. Over…
I was told as a child that an R.I.C. (Royal Irish
Constabulary) constable lived there in years gone
by.
The Hulk There is an old ex R.I.C. barracks in Lyons
Estate (ex Lord Cloncurry’s) near the canal. I
often wondered was he stationed there? By now
the bank on our right drops and the canal takes a turn slightly to the left: ahead on our side, the tall
gaunt lonely ruins known as the ‘Hulk’ comes
into view. The Hulk is the remains of an old
canal hotel where the passengers from the
Flyboats could stay the night and the horses were
rested or changed. This edifice should be a good
subject for the artist or photographer. I often
stood on my own, gazing inside the ruins and
thought to myself that if those old ragged stone
walls could only talk they could tell many a tale
about the folk who sat, talked and perhaps sang within them o’er 150 years ago.
In winter when the evenings are closing in with a
sullen sky, the ‘Hulk’ can look very desolate and
foreboding, especially when the winds wail like a
Banshee through the reeds on the towpath. It can
be full of atmosphere and maybe even a ghostly
spectre or two: though the latter I personally did
not witness – as yet anyway. Leaving the ‘Hulk’
behind us we continue on the last leg of our trek
as Hazelhatch Bridge comes into view. About ¼
of a mile from the bridge there is a lane running from the towpath to the narrow country road
approximately 200 yards distance.
The dwelling house of a small holding faces the
canal at the junction of the lane with the towpath.
When we reach Hazelhatch Bridge we encounter
McEvoy’s Pub on our right and can see Lee’s
Pub diagonally over on our left. On the
Newcastle side of the bridge, a variety of
pleasure boats are normally berthed around the
bridge area, especially in the Summer.
We have now reached the outward end of our trek and another 3.5 miles return trek awaits us to
get back to the 12th Lock. Tea and sandwiches
should be eagerly sought after by this stage if not
already consumed earlier at Gollierstown. Some
folk might like soft drinks or ‘otherwise’ drinks
at the two afore mentioned excellent hostelries
but try and get back before it becomes dark as
the ghostly old ‘Hulk’ has still to be passed
again.
Before I conclude, I am just mentioning that
there is also a pond known as ‘Foxes Quarry’ hidden away behind bushes up a lane not far
from the G.A.A. Club. It used to be fished for
Roach and Perch but it could be somewhat
spawned over by now. However it is a
potentially hazardous place to fish unless in very
responsible company.
Where Spollens are now sited, is the location of
the ruins of Adamstown Castle. Alas it is no
more. I conclude with a little poem I wrote in 1958.
(Editor’s note: Kilsaran Concrete now stands on
the site of Spollens.)
“Memories of Gollierstown”
I love to go a strolling by those moors and ponds so sweet The emerald green grass under me a carpet for my feet
And looking to the old lime kiln, its ruined walls so bleak Yet still I hear the workers’ ghosts from inside of it speak Clambering up a gentle slope I stop and gaze around The scene that lies before me is dear old Gollierstown The place I rambled long ago when I was young and gay But years have passed and I have grown, my hair has turned to grey
I love to go a strolling by those moors and ponds so sweet The perfumed air of blossomed May a tonic for to meet And feeling tired but happy now that perfumed air I seek
I rest beneath a blossomed bush of May and fall asleep I dream of busy Dublin, buildings towering high above the ground But my body rests this evening in lovely Gollierstown
Cllr. Paul Gogarty – Independent and Green-minded. “Not just at election
time”
Tel: 087-2752489. Email: [email protected] Public consultations: Several public
consultations are still live on the Council website
at present with some reaching their closing dates.
Keep an eye out for the Parking (charges)
consultation which is likely by December. The
polling (stations) scheme closes 6th November.
The deadline for the Griffeen Park sports pavilions is 8th November. The Corporate Plan
citizen survey will be live for several weeks. Log