Templepeter Burial Grounds
Thomas Sunderland's photograph of
Templepeter, May 1993
In the modern
world of easy travel the descendants of Irish emigrants who have
continued to leave our shores since the exodus after Black ’47 are
now returning in increasing numbers in search of their roots. And
for these amateur genealogists cemeteries are invaluable and
sometimes emotional sources of information. Too often, however,
burial grounds which are no longer in use are forbidding places —
usually inaccessible unless to the most ardent researchers. More
often than not visitors to old cemeteries are faced with a maze of
weeds and endless tangled briars competing with a dense thicket of
scrub.
Until three years ago Templepeter Cemetery fitted this
description all too comfortably — its very existence unknown to
some, forgotten by others, and a place of visitation by a dwindling
few. In 1990 a group of civic-minded locals, and the relatives of
some of the people buried there, decided that the ruined Church,
dating back 700 years, and the cemetery, deserved — and would get —
attention. During the long evenings that summer this group of
volunteers with their shovels, spades and slash hooks transformed
this piece of sacred ground, revealing pages of local history etched
in stone. Little definite is known about the origins of what was a
well-built little Church, but, most probably, it was erected soon
after the Norman invasion in the 12th/13th century and may have
continued in use until the enforcement of the Penal Laws in the
early 1700s. Some of the people buried there were born before penal
times — Michael Nolan was born in 1677 and he was 93 when he died on
August 1st, 1770. His parents would have lived through the terror of
the Cromwellian invasion of Ireland. A half century earlier, David
Nolan was only sixteen when he died on June 14th, 1727.
Memories of
1798 come to mind — Templepeter is the burial place of the Nolans of
Kilconnor, who gave shelter to the fugitive 1798 leader, Fr. John
Murphy, during his fateful journey from Kilcumney to Tullow. Unlike
statistics, gravestones are a more chilling reminder of the
devastation caused by the famine and none more so than the headstone
erected at Templepeter by Michael Murphy of Carlow over the graves
of his five children, all of whom died in the two years between
December 1847 and December 1849. This couple’s indescribable grief
reads thus: “Eleanor died 28th December, 1847, aged 1 year; Michael
died 6th January, 1848, aged 2 years; Mary Anne died 12th May, 1849,
aged 2 months; Jeremiah died December 1849, aged 7 years; also 9 of
their children.” Despite the lapse in time, going back nearly three
centuries, there is a touching sadness about the many children and
young adults who were called prematurely to their eternal reward.
James Murphy of Barrack Street, Carlow, was at the graveside of his
24 year-old wife on September 16th, 1881 and he had buried three of
his children before his own death, aged 45, on 23rd January, 1900.
But the headstones tell only part of the story of Templepeter.
There
are many at rest there in unmarked graves, some through the poverty
of their families in difficult times when the next basic meal was
never certain. Others who died alone in the world, and were
remembered only in the prayers of a thoughtful neighbour. Paddy
Kehoe of Graiguenaspidogue fought with British forces in the Crimean
War, was awarded a medal for bravery, and now rests in an unmarked
grave.
The grave of Brigid Bermingham, who died in 1949 and the last
person to be buried in Templepeter, is unmarked. Local lore suggests
that shallow mass graves were dug in one area of the cemetery to
accept the remains of the famine dead. Between 1841 and 1851 the
population of the Civil Parish of Templepeter (1046 acres) dropped
by 83 from 317 to 234. Death probably accounted for about two-thirds
of this population decline. The work carried out at Templepeter was
unaided by either local or central government funds, reflecting well
on the caring attitude of the people in this corner of Ballon-Rathoe
Parish, and the annual cemetery Mass introduced three years ago by
Parish Priest Fr. Edward Whelan is a source of great joy for the
many families who remember their dead through participation in this
celebration every June.
Jimmy O’Toole June, 1993
"The Old Parish of Templepeter, Co. Carlow"
Preface
The name "Fighting Cocks" is well known throughout
County Carlow. The area around the famous tavern, even though
comprising different townlands, is popularly known as the Fighting
Cocks, or simply, "The Cocks". The local G.A.A. club has helped to
make it better known throughout the county and beyond. Less well
known is a landmark more ancient by far — Templepeter cemetery.
I was three years in Ballon and Rathoe parish before
I knew of the cemetery's whereabouts. Trees, weeds, briars and all
kinds of undergrowth completely obscured it from the passer-by on
the Wexford-Carlow road. A haven for wild life, but hardly a fit
resting place for Templepeter's dead.
A meeting was called in early May 1990 to arrange a
clean-up and prepare for a Mass in June or July. I remember
suggesting that perhaps part of the cemetery could be restored that
year. I under-estimated the determination of the people. On 7th May,
work started. On 17th June, Mass was offered for the first time in
many centuries in a completely transformed cemetery — still an old
cemetery, but not a weed in sight. It was a triumph for community
commitment and pride.
Now Templepeter has a book written about it —
compiled by Jimmy O'Toole. His mother comes from the area, and his
forebears are buried there, so for him it is a labour of love. He
has wisely not confined his work to the cemetery, but includes
interesting historical information about the locality. Thomas P.
O'Neill, well-known historian and loyal son of Ballon, also
contributes and the list of headstone inscriptions is the result of
diligent work undertaken by a group of local people. All adds up to
an invaluable piece of local history. It will also, I hope, ensure
that Templepeter will never again be a hidden treasure of the past.
Edward Whelan P.P.
