Farewell to a Polymath


Last November, the Financial Times published an extensive feature on Alec Cobbe, chronicling some, although by no means all, of his many achievements. Alec, who after a few months ill health died last week, could rightly be described as a polymath, the FT summarising his various skills as an art restorer, historian, author, re-hanger, interior designer and painter who also happened to be a fine pianist. But this is to understate his profusion of talents. To take the last on that list, Alec not only played the piano, he also collected historic keyboard instruments, more than 50 of them which are on display at Hatchlands Park, a National Trust property in Surrey leased by Alec and his wife Isabel since 1984. On display there are two grand pianos which had once belonged to Chopin, as well as Haydn’s grand piano, Liszt’s Italian upright piano, Bizet’s composing table-piano, Mahler’s Viennese piano, Johann Christian Bach’s piano, on which Mozart may also have played, and instruments which formerly belonged to George IV and Marie Antoinette: anyone who visited the recently-ended exhibition devoted to the French queen at London’s Victoria and Albert Museum would have seen her piano there. But as mentioned above, this was just one of Alec’s many skills, of which he had an abundance. He was a highly talented painter (particularly of country house interiors), and separately an illustrator whose work was much in demand for the design of invitations to all sorts of smart events. In addition, he was a restorer who over the course of his life identified more than one lost old master picture, and an interior designer much in demand for his ability to hang picture collections, most recently those at Castle Howard; other houses in which he worked included Harewood, Hatfield, Hillsborough Castle, Knole and Petworth. Extraordinarily well-read and well-informed, he brought a keen and critical eye to every enterprise. But although a well-known and widely admired figure in Britain, Alec’s achievements were perhaps less appreciated in his native Ireland. 





Alec Cobbe was born in Dublin in 1945 and spent much of his childhood at Newbridge, the house some short distance north of the city where his widowed mother lived with her bachelor brother-in-law. Newbridge had been commissioned by the family’s forebear, Charles Cobbe, Archbishop of Dublin, in the late 1740s and designed by James Gibbs, seemingly the architect’s only work in Ireland (for more on Newbridge, see The Glory of the House « The Irish Aesthete). Without question, Alec’s eye received its earliest training at Newbridge, a house to which he remained thereafter devoted despite being based on the other side of the Irish Sea for the greater part of his professional life. After school, initially he studied medicine at Oxford (and won a prize for anatomical drawing) but then moved into the field of art restoration, training at the Tate Gallery before he established a conservation studio at Birmingham City Museum and Art Gallery, and then worked at the Hamilton Kerr Institute in Cambridge. Eventually he opened his own studio in 1981. As he explained in the FT article, the move into interior decoration and specifically picture hanging was a natural evolution: having taken care of a painting’s restoration, he would often see it hung unsympathetically. As he explained, ‘I’d think, “Why the hell did I spend all that time on the picture for it to be killed by the hanging of the thing”?’ Alec was always a man of strong opinions and with few qualms about expressing them. When the members of the public visit Newbridge today, they are seeing a house that represents his vision of its history and evolution. Yet this almost didn’t happen. When Alec’s uncle Thomas died in 1985, the house and estate were acquired by the local authority and it looked as though the family’s link with the property would be irreparably broken. Instead, just as the building’s contents were about to be removed, an agreement was made whereby they would remain on the premises and, in return, the Cobbes would be able to live in Newbridge from time to time. Although such arrangements are common in England, this is highly unusual in Ireland but proved to be an enormous blessing not least because Alec, passionate about the place, did much to improve it by driving various restoration projects and adding to the existing furnishings and works of art. He also loved to entertain in the house, and those of us fortunate to have been invited will have fond memories of convivial meals, either eaten in the main dining room or upstairs in the family flat, followed by a sound night’s sleep in one of the guest bedrooms. 





The pictures shown here reflect two rooms in Newbridge that particularly engaged Alec’s attention. The first is a cabinet of curiosities. Incorporating items collected by Archbishop Cobbe, this was essentially the creation of his son Thomas and daughter-in-law Lady Betty Cobbe who lived there from the time of their marriage in 1755 to their respective deaths in the early 19th century. Originally referred to as ‘ye Ark’, the cabinet takes up an entire room in the house, its walls lined with hand-painted sheets depicting oriental scenes and held in place by faux bamboo découpage trellising. A suite of specially made cases and display cabinets were filled with a typically diverse range of items, shells, exotica, curios, much of it from other countries. In 1758, for example, the Cobbes bought some coral, as well as a nest of vipers and a ‘Solar Microscope.’  Eventually, the collection came to include a stuffed crocodile, an ostrich egg mounted in a bog oak stand, a set of ivory chess pieces from China and a depiction of the coronation of George III (1761) carved in bone and placed inside a glass bottle. Over time, the room in Newbridge began to suffer neglect: even by 1858 it was being described as ‘the poor old museum.’ In the 1960s the paper on the walls was taken down and sold, the cases and cabinets moved first to the basement and then an attic lumber room, and the space converted into a sitting room. While many of the surviving contents are now in Hatchlands Park, the Newbridge cabinet of curiosities was recreated, a replica of the wallpaper produced from memory by Alec, the cases brought down from the attic, and a replica sample of the collection once more on display. Meanwhile, at the far end of the house stands the red drawing room, another addition made by Thomas and Lady Betty Cobbe, working with local architect George Semple. Some 45 feet long, the room has a ceiling featuring ‘a sea of scrolling leaves and floral garlands encircled by dragons and birds fighting over baskets of fruit,’ believed to have been undertaken by stuccodore Richard Williams, a pupil of Robert West. Two hundred years ago, payments for furniture were made to Woods & Son, and to Mack, Williams & Gibton of Dublin, who were also paid for curtains in 1828. The carpet, by Beck & Co. of Bath was supplied in March 1823 for £64 and 18 shillings, while the crimson flock wallpaper and matching border came from the Dublin firm of Patrick Boylan. The present arrangement of paintings, the greater part of them collected during the previous century by Archbishop Cobbe and his son and daughter-in-law, dates from the same period. Some of the collection had been sold in Dublin in 1812, and in 1839 two key paintings – by Hobbema and Dughet – were sold to pay to fund the construction of some 80 estate workers’ cottages. In November of that year, then owner Charles Cobbe wrote in his diary, ‘I have filled up the vacancies on my walls occasioned by the loss of the two pictures which have been sold, and I felt some satisfaction in thinking that my room (by the new arrangement) looks even more furnished than before.’ Such is still the case today, thanks to Alec. Over many years, he undertook successive projects to preserve and conserve the drawing room, so that today it is a rare example of late Irish Georgian taste. There were several other projects in this country with which Alec was closely associated, not least the redecoration of the drawing room at Russborough, County Wicklow (see A Room Reborn « The Irish Aesthete). Having served alongside him as trustee of a charitable foundation, the Irish Aesthete can testify to his indefatigable enthusiasm and diverse range of interests. Sadly, he has not lived to see the publication of his latest book, Inside the Country Houses of Britain & Ireland, due to be published by Rizzoli in September. Let it serve as a lasting memorial to the polymath that was Alec Cobbe. 


Richard Alexander Charles Cobbe, January 9th 1945 – March 31st 2026

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A Noble and Dignified Building


Going back several hundred years, a particular feature of Cork city life has been a series of families known as its ‘merchant princes.’ Think of these as being the equivalent of those wealthy families who dominated life in Italian city-states of the early Renaissance or, for a more local example, the 14 Tribes who ran Galway city in the Middle Ages. In Cork, many of their names still resonate, the likes of Beamish, Crawford, Murphy, Roche, Barry and Coveney. In each instance, their wealth came through trade, the management of successful businesses which, in turn, allowed members of these families to play a dominant role in civic life, often holding seats on local councils, influencing policy and directing the course of urban life in the area. In the 18th century, most of them were members of the Established Church but even before the final lifting of penal legislation in 1829, Roman Catholic families had begun to make their mark in Cork, not just in trade but in the city’s physical appearance through acts of philanthropy, such as underwriting the construction of new places of worship. One such family were the Honans. 





The Honan family originated in Limerick, but it appears that in the early 1800s one of them settled in Cork city where they became successful butter merchants, with premises running from 19/20 St Patrick’s Quay up to 10/11 King Street (now McCurtain Street), a site now occupied by the Metropole Hotel.  Their home was on higher ground above the business at 26 Sidney Place on Wellington Road. The last generation numbered three children, Matthew, Robert and Isabella. Not far from their former residence is St Patrick’s church on the Lower Glanmire Road. Originally designed by architect George Pain in the mid-1830s, this was extended and largely rebuilt half a century later, with the costs being underwritten by the Honan siblings. However, today their most important legacy is considered to be a small chapel located on the periphery of the University College Cork campus. Isabella Honan, the last member of the family to die in 1913, had already established a link with the institution three years earlier thanks to a number of scholarships based on an endowment fund of £10,000. But the greater part of the family fortune was left to disburse for charitable purposes in Cork, as deemed appropriate by the family solicitor and executor of her will, Sir John Robert O’Connell. Like the deceased, O’Connell was an ardent Catholic (following his wife’s death, he would be ordained a priest) and in accordance with Isabella Honan’s wishes, used much of the money to benefit that church, although sums were provided to complete the university’s Biological Laboratory (accordingly named the Honan Biological Institute) and the Hydraulic Laboratory. In 1914 O’Connell negotiated the purchase of St Anthony’s Hostel. Previously called Berkeley Hall, this had opened 30 years earlier as a residence for Church of Ireland students in 1884. Now it became the Honan Hostel, a place of residence for male Catholic students attending the university, although it was governed by a separate legal trust. It continued until 1991 when closed down and, after being purchased by the university, the hostel and adjacent warden’s house were demolished. However, the chapel built thanks to Isabella Honan’s will still survives. 





Supported by the university’s then-president, Sir Bertram Windle, and on a site beside the now-lost hostel, O’Connell opted to use much of the Honan Bequest to construct a ‘noble and dignified’ building that would serve as a chapel for use by the students. His intention was that this structure would ‘call into life again the spirit and the work of an age when Irishmen built churches and nobly adorned them under an impulse of native genius’ and for this reason, its design would be in the Hiberno-Romanesque style. O’Connell was also very keen that Irish craftsmen and Irish materials would be used in the construction and for the greater part this was the case. A local architectural firm, McMullen & Associates, designed the chapel which was built by John Sisk & Son of Cork. The foundation stone was laid in May 1915 and the building was consecrated in November 1916, an astonishingly short period of time, especially since the work took place in the middle of the First World War. The chapel’s exterior, faced in locally-quarried limestone ashlar, is largely devoid of ornament other than the western entrance facade, featuring a blind arcade and gabled portal inspired by that of St Cronan’s Church in Roscrea, County Tipperary (see Still Standing « The Irish Aesthete).  Henry Emery of Dublin, assisted by apprentices from Cork Technical School carved the stone capitals of Munster saints on either side of the door, while the statue of St Finbarr above is the work of Oliver Sheppard. Drawing inspiration from familiar Celtic designs, the wrought-iron gates were by William A. Scott, professor of architecture in University College, Dublin (he was also responsible for the silver sanctuary lamp). Inside the barrel-vaulted building, 11 of the 19 stained glass windows were designed by the young Harry Clarke – this was his first significant commission after leaving the Dublin Metropolitan School of Art – while others were produced by Alfred Child, Ethel Rhind and Catherine O’Brien. Inside the chancel, the arcading was inspired by Cormac’s Chapel on the Rock of Cashel, County Tipperary, while the gabled tabernacle was designed by enamellist Oswald Reeves and other items like altar hanging, liturgical banners and cushions came from the Dun Emer Guild. In fact, O’Connell’s ambition to have the entire building reflect the very best of contemporary Irish design and manufacture was let down in only two places: the Stations of the Cross and the mosaic floor illustrating the River of Life: both of these came from the Manchester firm of Ludwig Oppenheimer Ltd. In the early 1980s, like so many other Catholic churches in this country, the interior of the Honan Chapel was reordered to reflect changes introduced following the Second Vatican Council. However, more recently a thorough restoration of the building was undertaken and so today it looks much as originally intended, aside from the introduction of some rather strange mauve lighting around the windows which has the effect of making it hard to see the stained glass clearly. An unfortunate and unnecessary intervention on the site.


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Signs of Former Greatness



Scattered around the market town of Clones, County Monaghan is evidence that this was once an important religious centre. A monastery was founded here in the first half of the sixth century by Saint Tigernach (d.549) which in due course became a substantial establishment, the abbots of which are mentioned several times in the Annals of the Four Masters. A ruined 12th century church (locally known as the Wee Abbey) and a High Cross in the town centre are two of the remains from this earlier history, as is a Round Tower found set into the walls of an oval graveyard on the outskirts of Clones. Some 75 feet high, it has lost its cone roof but retains the doorway some distance above ground, as well as a number of small window openings on different sides. Around the tower are tombstones of varying dates, some of them going back to the 18th century.



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In No Way Averse to the Magnificence of Life 


Born in 1695, Robert Clayton followed the example of his father and became a Church of Ireland clergyman, rising to become Bishop first of Killala and Achonry, then Cork and Ross and finally of Clogher. His personal wealth allowed him to undertake a Grand Tour, which left a lasting impression not just on Clayton but also on his contemporaries. Following his appointment to Cork in 1735, the Earl of Orrery wrote, ‘We have a Bishop, who, as He has travel’d beyond the Alps, has brought home with him, to the amazement of our merchantile Fraternity, the Arts and Sciences that are the Ornament of Italy and the Admiration of the European World. He eats, drinks and sleeps in Taste. He has Pictures by Carlo, Morat, Music by Corelli, Castles in the Air by Vitruvius ; and on High-Days and Holidays We have the Honour of catching Cold at a Venetian door.’ Lord Orrery’s colourful account of the impression made by Clayton proposes a striking contrast with the episcopacy of his predecessor, Peter Browne, during which ‘We were as silent and melancholy as Captives, and We were Strangers to Mirth even by Analogy.’ Clayton seems to have appreciated not just Corelli but also Handel, since he facilitated the first performance of ‘The Messiah’ in St Fin Barre’s Cathedral in December 1744. He was a Fellow of both the Royal Society and the Society of Antiquaries of London, as well as supporting various cultural organisations in Ireland.




Robert Clayton’s wealth meant that when in 1728 he married Katherine Donnellan, a daughter of Lord Chief Baron Nehemiah Donnellan, he could afford to give his wife’s fortune to her sister Anne. The latter was a close friend of Mary Delany, which is one reason why we know so much about the Claytons and their social life. In June 1732, while still the widowed Mrs Pendarves, she spent some time in Killala, staying with the couple in the episcopal palace, known as the Castle, which she described as ‘old and indifferent enough.’ However, ‘the garden, which is laid out entirely for use, is pretty – a great many shady walks and full-grown forest trees.’ Furthermore, Bishop Clayton had added another field to the property, ‘and planted it in very good taste.’ While in Killala, Mrs Pendarves and Anne Donnellan created what may have been the first shell house in Ireland. This was installed inside a natural grotto at the top of a hill close to Killala, the shells coming from a large collection assembled by the bishop as well as those collected on the shores of County Mayo. In mid-August, there was a local fair, with races on the strand and then, to mark Mrs Clayton’s birthday, she and her guests ‘all attired in our best apparel,’ sat in front of the house to watch ‘dancing, singing, grinning, accompanied with an excellent bagpipe, the whole concluded with a ball, bonfire and illuminations.’ ‘Pray,’ she asked her sister, ‘does your Bishop promote such entertainments at Gloster as ours does at Killala?’ Fifteen years later and by now married to Dr Patrick Delany, she described another such birthday party, this time in Clogher, where musicians played for eight pairs of dances, a ‘sumptuous cold collation’ was served at 11pm, after which the fiddlers struck up again and the dancing continued until after two o’clock (the Delanys sensibly crept away to their own sleeping quarters after supper). Writing to her family in England in February 1746, Mrs Delany noted ‘On Monday we dine at the Bishop of Clogher’s. Mrs Clayton is to have a drum in the evening and we are invited to it. Their house is very proper for such an entertainment, and Mrs Clayton very fit for the undertaking. She loves the show and homage of a rout, has a very good address and is still as well inclined to all the gaieties of life as she was at five-and-twenty; the Bishop loves to please and indulge her, and is himself no way averse to the magnificence of life.’ 




The Claytons undoubtedly liked to live well and could afford to do so. On one of her early visits to Dublin, in September 1731 Mrs Pendarves stayed with the couple in their townhouse on St Stephen’s Green. Writing to her sister in England, the Claytons’ guest declared the building to be ‘magnifique’, the chief front of it looking like Devonshire House in London and the rooms filled with objects, busts and pictures which the bishop had brought back from a tour he had made of France and Italy after graduating from Trinity College Dublin. In a second letter, Mrs Pendarves provided her sibling with a meticulous description of the main reception rooms: ‘First there is a very good hall well filled with servants, then a room of eighteen foot square, wainscoated with oak, the panels all carved, and the doors and chimney finished with very fine high carving, the ceiling stucco, the window-curtains and chairs yellow Genoa damask, portraits and landscapes, very well done, round the room, marble tables between the windows, and looking glasses with gilt frames.’ Mrs Pendarves continues her account with information on the next room, which measured 28 by 22 feet, ‘and is as finely adorned as damask, pictures and busts can make it, besides the floor being entirely covered with the finest Persian carpet that ever was seen. The bedchamber is large and handsome, all furnished with the same damask.’ Despite its evident splendour, this was not the house, 80 St Stephen’s Green designed for Clayton by architect Richard Castle (and seen in these pictures), since work on that property only began five years later in 1736.  




The Claytons’ new Dublin townhouse was still a work in progress when visited in December 1736 by the aforementioned Earl of Orrery, who shortly afterwards wrote to Clayton. Lord Orrery was much impressed by what he had seen, even though, ‘as your Lordps Commands did not extend so far as to order me to break my Neck or my Limbs, I ventur’d no further than the Hall Door, from whence my Prospect was much confin’d, except when I look’d upwards to the Sky.’ Calling the house a palace, Orrery went on to say that its first floor Great Room would probably bring his cousin, the architect Earl of Burlington, over to Ireland from London. However, while he was confident that the bishop’s hearing and sight should be satisfied with the finished building, the same might not be the case for his sense of smell, owing to the proximity of the stables. Orrery therefore suggested these could be located further behind the house if a little more land were purchased, although he observed that as long as the stables had a beautiful cornice, ‘Signor Cassels [Castle] does not seem to care where it stands.’ From the exterior, it’s difficult to gain a sense of what the building looked like because, after being bought in 1858 by Benjamin Lee Guinness, it was joined to its immediate neighbour to the right and the two properties given a unified  seven-bay façade in Portland stone. However, inside the house, some of the original interiors survive on both the ground and first floors, not least the Saloon or ‘Great Room’ which spans the full three-bay width of the Clayton building and is notable for its coved and coffered ceiling, based on a Serlio plate of the Temple of Bacchus in Rome) which rises up to the attic. Behind this lies the Music Room, the ceiling of which conveniently indicates its function. Alas, the Claytons’ happy, sociable existence ended in tears, due to the prelate’s insistence on putting into print his somewhat unorthodox views on Christianity in a work called A Vindication of the Histories of the Old and New Testament. Espousing Arianism, he subsequently proposed in the Irish House of Lords that the Nicene and Athanasian creeds be removed from the prayer book. As a result, he was summoned for trial on a charge of heresy before an ecclesiastical commission. However, before the trial began, in February 1758 the bishop died of a fever in his Dublin residence. Horace Walpole, with his customary sharpness of tongue, claimed Clayton’s death was due to panic at the thought of having to defend his idiosyncratic religious beliefs. Presented by the second Earl of Iveagh to the Irish State, the building has since served as the headquarters of the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Below, a portrait of Robert and Katherine Clayton painted in happier times (c.1740) by James Latham, now in the National Gallery of Ireland. 


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Handy for Methodists




A number of derelict outbuildings are all that now remain to indicate the former Coolalough estate in County Westmeath. In the mid-18th century, this property was owned by Samuel Handy who, after being introduced to the Wesleys, became a fervent advocate of Methodism, so much so that he named his son Samuel Wesley Handy. When in Ireland John Wesley regularly came here to stay and proselytise. On late July 1752, for example, he left Dublin and, after preaching in five places en route, arrived at Coolalough, ‘where he met many of his friends from all parts. This was probably the beginning of the quarterly meetings, which were held here for many years, to which the Methodists resorted from far and near. An abundant provision was made by Mr. Handy for their entertainment, and they were generally seasons of great spiritual enjoyment.’ Of the Handys’ house, there now appears to be no trace.




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Scenes from a Cathedral’s History


‘In 1561 Armagh was in possession of the English who fortified the cathedral, making it a place of arms as a check upon O’Neill. Shane, in revenge, attacked and captured the city, burning it, with the Cathedral and the Franciscan Monastery; his excuse for this wanton destruction being “that he would not have the English to lodge therein.” Camden writes, “In our memory, the church and city of Armagh were so foully defaced by the rebel, Shane O’Neill, that they lost all their ancient beauty and glory, and nothing remaineth at this day, but a few small wattled cottages, with the ruinous walls of a monastery, priory, and the primate’s palace”.’
From the Ulster Journal of Archaeology, Volume II,  October 1895.





‘Immediately after Dr Robinson’s promotion to the primacy [1765], he determined to repair the cathedral, to which purpose he appropriated a considerable sum…His Grace commenced his improvements by slating the western aisle which had been previously shingled, and by fitting it up in a more complete manner for divine service. It is to be lamented that in effecting this latter object, he removed the ancient and beautiful tracery windows which had adorned the building and substituted inelegant lights in their place (since superseded). About the same time, he presented to the choir a new organ, possessed of many stops, and of most pleasing and powerful tones…In 1782, ” Primate Robinson had determined to build a tower on the cathedral of Armagh, in imitation of that of Magdalen College, in Oxford. His architect, Mr. Cooley, examined the walls and gave his opinion as to the practicability of the undertaking. The work went on till the close of the year 1783. The tower, which was to have been elevated 101 feet in height, had been, at this period, raised 60 feet above the roof of the church, when the north-west pier and the arches springing out of it shewed symptoms of giving way by over pressure. Precautions were instantly taken, arches built up in the body of the church, and additional buttresses joined. Thus aided, it was deemed by the best architects fully sufficient to bear the proposed tower: the more ponderous part of the building having been already raised, and three-fourths of the whole weight placed on piers and arches duly and powerfully supported. Some old ladies, however, who were in the habit of regularly attending divine service, imagined that the entire fabric would tumble and bury the congregation in its ruins. Their fears spread and the church was in danger of being deserted. Primate Robinson then ordered the new tower to be pulled down, even to the roof of the building from whence it sprang, that is, to the very spot from which the old one, carrying its spire, cross and weather-cock had been removed. Thus ended the Magdalen steeple.’
From Historical Memoirs of the City of Armagh, by James Stuart (1900)





‘Lord John George Beresford succeeded to the Primacy in 1822, and to him may properly be ascribed the beautiful appearance which our venerable Cathedral presents to the eye of the beholder. At what period it was constructed, in the form which it has come down to tho present time, is a matter of great uncertainty. Inglis writes that it is the ” oldest Cathedral Church in Ireland. Part of this venerable edifice was erected in the reign of Henry III, and the remainder part in the time of Edward III.” Shortly after his promotion to the See, his Grace determined to repair the ancient structure, and Mr. Cottingham, an eminent architect, was instructed to examine the building. That gentleman, having minutely examined it, gave a most favourable report of its condition, stating that about £8,000 would put it into serviceable order. This sum his Grace at once consented to pay. The foundation stone of one of the piers was laid in great solemnity on 21st May, 1834, in presence of about 0,000 persons, who came to witness the interesting ceremony. During divine service, the Cathedral Choir, assisted by an instrumental band placed on an orchestra, temporarily fitted up, performed the Dettingen Te Deum, and several anthems from the Messiah.’
From Record of the City of Armagh, by Edward Rogers (1861)


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And Speaking of Ruins



At Coola, a mile to the north of Kilbeggan, County Westmeath and beside the river Brosna stand the remains of a once very substantial corn mill complex. Seemingly, it was initially started c.1770 by the Fitzpatrick family, who also had another such enterprise not far away at Ballynagore. The property was sold in 1781 to the Connollys who greatly expanded both the business and the buildings: by 1790 more flour was being produced here than at any other mill in Westmeath, sending 4,693 tonnes to Dublin.  Further development occurred in the early decades of the 19th century when oatmeal and barley were also milled on the site. Although predominantly utilitarian in design, there are some decorative flourishes such as the brick crenellations on one five storey block, at the base of which is the shell of a cottage with arched door and windows and hooded mouldings. The mill remained in operation until the 1970s, since when it has fallen into its present condition.



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The Country for Ruins

Lackeen Castle, County Tipperary

A request to speak at a forthcoming academic event exploring various perceptions of ruins has led the Irish Aesthete to consider, not for the first time, what might be the particular appeal of historic buildings that have fallen into decay, and why there are so many of them in this country. ‘To delight in the aspects of sentient ruin might appear a heartless pastime,’ Henry James confessed in Italian Hours (1873) ‘and the pleasure, I confess, shows the note of perversity.’ Tumbling roofs and crumbling walls have long exerted a particular appeal, as was noted by Rose Macaulay in her wonderful 1953 book Pleasure of Ruins when she rhetorically enquired ‘what part is played by morbid pleasure in decay, by righteous pleasure in retribution…’ The morbidity of ruins without doubt helps to explain their attraction: in a state of decay, they allow us to engage in romantic speculation which may or may not be accurate. There are certainly many opportunities to engage in such hypothesising in Ireland. In some instances, they can be wonderfully picturesque, a fact highlighted by the clergyman and author William Gilpin who in 1782 published his highly influential book, Observations on the River Wye, and Several Parts of South Wales, etc. Relative Chiefly to Picturesque Beauty; made in the Summer of the Year 1770. Among the points he made was that in landscape painting the presence of a ruined castle or abbey would add to the work what he called ‘consequence.’ The truth of this observation had already been made apparent in the previous century by a number of French artists – Poussin, Claude Lorain, Dughet – based in Italy where they produced paintings in which ruins were often a notable feature.

Clonfert Palace, County Galway

Rappa Castle, County Mayo

Dromore Castle, County Limerick

Graffan House, County Offaly

Works such as those painted by the likes of Poussin et al are known to have had a critical influence on the design of both British and Irish country house landscapes in the 18th century, when the pictures were bought by Grand Tourists and brought back home where parklands and demesnes were laid out to look like them. Sometimes, to enhance the view, they even incorporated artificial ruins as was the case in a number of properties around the country. At Belvedere, County Westmeath, for example, the ‘Jealous Wall’ was constructed. Some 180 feet long, this theatrical sham ruin dates from c.1760 when commissioned by Robert Rochfort, first Earl of Belvedere. Seemingly, it was built in order to block the view south towards Tudenham Park, a house further along Lough Ennell which had been erected some years before by the earl’s younger brother, George Rochfort, with whom he had quarreled. The earl might simply have asked for a high wall, but instead opted for one that romantically looks like the remains of an ancient castle. At Heywood, County Laois – where the grounds were laid out by owner Frederick Trench installed a number of fake ruins in the 1770s, including what appear to be the remains of a ruined medieval church, incorporating a traceried window thought  to be 15th century and to have been brought from the former Dominican friary at Aghaboe, some twelve miles away. Towards the end of the 18th century, the demesne at Lawrencetown, County Galway was similarly enhanced by the addition of a number of follies, including a Gothick eyecatcher, intended to suggest the remains of an otherwise lost building. Back in County Westmeath, at Killua Sir Benjamin Chapman acquired some of the stonework from a medieval Franciscan friary at Multyfarnham and around 1800 used this material to create a charming ‘ruin’ visible from the garden front of the house. 

The Jealous Wall, Belvedere, County Westmeath

Heywood, County Laois

Lawrencetown, County Galway

Killua Castle, County Westmeath

Even without the addition of fake examples, Ireland has never been short of ruins. The observations of  German writer and geographer Johann Georg Kohl who visited Ireland in 1841 have been cited before. ‘Of all the countries in the world’, he wrote, ‘Ireland is the country for ruins. Here you have ruins of every period of history, from the time of the Phoenicians down to the present day…down to our own times each century has marked its progress by the ruins it has left. Nay, every decade, one might almost say, has set its sign upon Ireland, for in all directions you see a number of dilapidated buildings, ruins of yesterday’s erection.’ What this suggests is that the Irish have a particular affinity for decay and dilapidation, given that the stock of ruined buildings seen by Kohl has only further increased since his time, although too often these additions could not be described as picturesque or romantic. Last week, the Irish Times reported on two substantial 19th century houses in Phibsborough, Dublin which in 2009 were added to the city council’s list of derelict sites. A decade later, after the buildings had fallen into still worse condition, they were compulsorily purchased by the authority which then announced plans to restore them for use as social housing. Now, after a further seven years of decline, the council has announced that the cost of undertaking such a restoration would be excessive and that there were currently ‘no plans’ for the properties. Of all the countries in the world, Ireland retains its title as the country for ruins.

Ightermurragh Castle, County Cork

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A Partial Restoration



In the first decades of the 19th century, many old places of worship in Ireland were restored or rebuilt thanks to funds from the Board of First Fruits. In Lorrha, County Tipperary, St Ruadháns church is thought to have been constructed on the site of the early monastery founded by the eponymous Ruadhán in 540. On the south wall, an arched doorway features a carved head which may represent Walter de Burgh and have been taken from the nearby Augustinian Abbey (see Former Greatness « The Irish Aesthete). Below it, a pointed doorway with decoration was added in the 15th century; it is decorated with rose motifs, vine leaves and a pelican drawing blood from its breast. According to Samuel Lewis writing in 1837, the building had been ‘recently repaired by a grant of £113 from the Ecclesiastical Commissioners.’ While the nave was left a ruin, the chancel was restored to provide a church suitable for a relatively small congregation.



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