Kiln, Garristown, Co. Dublin
Co. Dublin |
Kilns
Some historical sites are remarkable precisely because they have vanished without leaving so much as a foundation stone.
In the townland of Garristown, north County Dublin, there was once a kiln, recorded in a mid-seventeenth-century survey under the phonetic spelling "kill house", a term that reflects the old pronunciation of the word rather than anything more sinister. Its precise location has never been identified, and no physical trace of it is known to survive. What remains is a single line in a document, which is sometimes enough to make a place worth knowing about.
The record comes from the Civil Survey of Dublin, compiled between 1654 and 1656, one of the great administrative exercises carried out under Cromwellian rule to catalogue land ownership across Ireland, often in preparation for redistribution following the wars of the preceding decade. The Garristown entry describes the lands of William Talbot of Robertstown, County Meath, who is noted in the survey as "an Irish Papist", a designation with pointed legal consequences at the time. On those lands stood a chaff house, a barn, and the kill house, along with a garden plot. The jury assessed the combined value of these structures at three pounds. Kilns of this period were typically used for drying grain, an essential part of the agricultural process in a climate where reliable sunshine could not be counted upon, and their presence on a working landholding would have been entirely unremarkable. What is remarkable is that this one is now known only through its mention in Robert Simington's 1945 edition of the Civil Survey.
There is nothing to see at Garristown today that can be directly connected to this structure. The townland sits in the gently rolling farmland of north Dublin, and the village of Garristown itself is small and quiet. For anyone drawn to the archaeology of absence, the interest lies not in visiting a site but in tracing the documentary thread. The Civil Survey entry, as reproduced by Simington, is accessible through Irish historical libraries and archives, and it serves as a reminder that the early modern landscape was full of functional, workaday structures that left almost no physical impression on the ground.