The fact that one of the most colorful terms in English for a fight originates from a location that was once a church is almost comical. Donnybrook, a now-quiet suburb on Dublin’s south side, once hosted a fair so infamous that its name completely disappeared from Ireland and ended up in dictionaries of unrelated nations. The word endured for over 170 years after the fair. That in and of itself says something.
According to most accounts, the Donnybrook Fair took place between 1204 and the middle of the 19th century, which is an incredibly long period of time for any event. It served as the kind of venue where business, alcohol, and matchmaking collided over the course of one boisterous week for about six hundred years. After meeting at the fair, couples reportedly got married quickly. Even modern observers found it difficult to describe the amount of alcohol that flowed. And somewhere along the line, fistfights—many of them—became the hallmark of the fair.
Later authors may have exaggerated the fights because they enjoyed a good Irish caricature. However, the anti-fair campaigns that began in the 1790s indicate that the reputation wasn’t wholly made up. Authorities repeatedly resisted until the event was eventually outlawed in 1855. Linguistically, the damage had already been done. The word had slipped out.
The ease with which “donnybrook” entered American English, especially in sports writing, is remarkable. It appears to have been particularly embraced by hockey reporters. A “full-scale donnybrook” broke out close to the Colorado net just last spring after a goalie smothered a wrister on a 2-on-1, according to the Denver Post. It was used to describe a measurement dispute between Nielsen and its media clients in a Variety article. The term was stretched into “the dog-waste donnybrook” in a New York Daily News article about a violent neighborhood altercation over uncollected pet waste. The word spreads effectively.
It seems like authors turn to “donnybrook” when “brawl” seems too simple and “melee” is too dramatic. It has a small wink to it. As they let it go, you can practically hear the editor grinning. Strangely, this may be the reason it has outlived so many of its synonyms: it softens the chaos without diminishing it.
In contrast, the town itself acted contrary to its reputation. Rugby and embassies can be found in the leafy, residential Donnybrook of today. The centuries-old carnival that once took place in its fields is nowhere to be seen when you stroll through it. Domhnach Broc, the Church of Saint Broc, is the source of the place name. Its serene, religious beginnings stand in stark contrast to everything the fair eventually developed into.
It’s difficult to ignore how language almost unintentionally carries history when you see a word endure across centuries and oceans. A neighborhood gave its name to a fair, the fair gave its name to a brawl, and the brawl gave itself to every sportswriter searching for a more vivid verb than “fought.” The original Donnybrook has been lost for nearly 200 years. The word won’t go away.
