Monthly Archives: May 2026

A Ducal Birthplace


There has sometimes been confusion over the likely birthplace in Dublin of the Hon Arthur Wellesley, future Duke of Wellington, since the location was given as Antrim House. The property known by this name stood at the junction of north Merrion Square and Lower Mount Street, a vast residence erected for the Earl of Antrim, often considered the most impressive such property in the area after Leinster House: although vacated after just a couple of decades by the Antrims and later turned into an hotel, it survived until 1938 when demolished to make way for an expansion of the National Maternity Hospital. More importantly, the house was only built in 1775, six years after Wellesley’s birth. The confusion arises because the aforementioned earl had previously been responsible for the construction of a previous house not far away on Merrion Street, and this building had been leased by the Earl of Mornington, Arthur Wellesley’s father, in 1765, meaning it might still be thought of in some quarters as Antrim House.





Garret Wellesley – created first Earl of Mornington in 1760 – was born in 1735 in his family seat in County Meath, the now-ruinous Dangan, which has featured here before (see Once One of the Grandest Places in Meath « The Irish Aesthete). From an early age, he demonstrated both interest and aptitude in music, with a particular facility for the violin and for composition: when he was aged 13, his godmother, Mary Delany, wrote that he was ‘a most extraordinary boy. . . [with] more knowledge than I ever met with in one so young.’ Seemingly when he asked composers Francesco Geminiani and Thomas Roseingrave for lessons, they both said he already knew everything they could teach him. So passionate was he about music that on the day of his wedding in February 1759 he also conducted a charity performance of Handel’s oratorio Acis and Galatea for Mercer’s Hospital. After receiving an MA in 1757, along with two other amateur composers, Kane O’Hara and Francis Hutcheson, Wellesley founded an Academy of Music in Dublin. Combining concerts with charitable fundraising, this was the first musical institution in Britain and Ireland to admit women members, its patrons including the Countesses of Tyrone, Charleville and Mornington. Lady Freke, Miss Cavendish and Miss Nichols were listed as harpsichord players, and there were five aristocratic female vocal performers. In 1764 Trinity College Dublin conferred Lord Mornington with a Doctor of Music before being appointed Professor of Music there later that year. He held this post for the next decade and when he resigned, the professorship lapsed and was only revived in the following century. Lord Mornington’s compositions are almost all vocal, including a five-act opera, Caractacus, which was performed at The Theatre Royal, Smock Alley in Dublin in 1764. Seemingly only one completely instrumental work by him survives, a march he wrote for the installation of the Duke of Bedford as Chancellor of Dublin University in 1768. This then was the man who was responsible for Mornington House.




Now part of the Merrion Hotel, Mornington House was not the earl’s first Dublin residence: he had previously occupied a property on Grafton Street. But with the move east following the completion of Leinster House in … he decided to find a new home for himself and his family. Initially, he intended to acquire a plot 100 feet wide on Merrion Square itself, the proposed house being flanked by a carriage arch on either side. However, Lord FitzWilliam, who owned the land here, turned down this scheme, hence Mornington opted to move around the corner and take the lease on Lord Antrim’s recently completed Merrion Street house. As seen today, the building is of five bays and three storeys over basement, faced in brick like its neighbours and with a pedimented stone doorcase flanked by Doric columns; it is thought to have been designed by architect Christopher Myers (he had previously been the architect of Lord Mornington’s Grafton Street house). Again, as is so often the case with Dublin townhouses, the plain exterior conceals a rich interior decorative scheme, although the entrance hall is largely unornamented. On the other hand, two reception rooms to the right of this have elaborate plasterwork ceilings are heavily ornamented with scallop shells, floral festoons and acanthus scrolls, as well as flower baskets and birds. While much in the style of Robert West, Professor Christine Casey attributes all this to the Dublin stuccodore James Byrne, who was similarly responsible around the same period for the decoration of 12 Merrion Square, where his client was William Brownlow, MP for Lurgan, Co. Armagh, who was a friend of Mornington and, like him, a keen amateur musician (he was reputed to have played the harpsichord at the first performance of Handel’s Messiah in Fishamble Street, Dublin in 1742). In May 1766 Brownlow paid a gratuity of £7-13s-6d to Byrne as a ‘present for doing his work well’. Back on Merrion Street, the most interesting space is the stair hall, lit by a large round headed window on the return. In contrast to the somewhat mean joinery of the stairs and dado rail, the plasterwork is most engaging, the wall panels containing garlands and festoons of fruit and flowers, while above them is an exceptionally deep coved cornice with a double row of ovals composed of scrolling acanthus leaves with flowers at their intersections. This was the house in which the future Duke of Wellington spent at least part of his childhood.


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Different Fates



The former Royal Irish Constabulary barracks in Mullinahone, County Tipperary dates from c.1850 and was variously occupied by that organisation, then the Black and Tans during the War of Independence before becoming the local Garda station. However, like many other such premises in small towns, it closed down some decades ago and then stood empty until bought in 2014 when work began turning the building into a private residence. While the interior was gutted, relatively little else was done before the property came back on the market four years ago. A recent planning application by an Irish cosmetics company proposes turning the old barracks into a manufacturing hub for its products. No such luck for another building on the opposite side of the street. This is said initially to have served as a watermill before housing militia and cavalry during the 1798 Rebellion. It was then used as a courthouse until 1922, while the rear of the property acted as a local butter market and communal hall. Despite being described by the National Built Heritage Service as ‘a building of considerable historic resonance in the county’ it has been allowed to fall into the present sad state and two years ago was placed on the local authority’s Derelict Sites register. .



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Making No Sense


In Ireland, there were a number of landed families with the surname Browne, not all of whom were related to each other. There were, for example, the Brownes who eventually became Earls of Kenmare and lived in County Kerry. Then there were the Brownes, Barons Oranmore and Browne, based in Castle MacGarrett, County Mayo. And in the same county were another family of Brownes, who became Marquesses of Sligo and lived in Westport. They were descended from one John Browne, a cartographer who came to Ireland in the 16th century and held the office of Sheriff of Mayo after preparing a map of the county. He was killed in February 1589 during an encounter at Burrishoole at the start of an uprising by the native Irish but by then had already acquired land in an area of the country known as the Neale (believed to derive from the Irish An Éill, meaning a strip of land). Here his descendants would live for the next few centuries, building a substantial house in the 1730s, of which only the shell of one wing now survives, the rest having been demolished some 200 years later in 1939. But evidence of the Brownes’ presence survives elsewhere around the former estate. 




Three strange structures can be found within the old Browne demesne at the Neale, the best-known being the Pyramid, a dry-stone construction – like the surrounding field boundaries – dating from c.1765 and comprising nine steps that climb to a height of 30 feet from a base more than 40 feet wide. The Pyramid is believed to have been commissioned by Sir John Browne, first Lord Kilmaine, to commemorate his elder brother George who died in 1765. On the rise of the fourth step is a cut-stone plaque in Latin, praising the deceased who is described as ‘best beloved’ and a man whose arms  ‘were formerly the great glory and protection of his country.’ Reputed to have been designed by Sir John’s brother-in-law, the first Earl of Charlemont (who had travelled to Egypt some years before while on his Grand Tour), the pyramid’s pinnacle was seemingly once crowned with a lead statue of Apollo.





Refurbished by the Office of Public Works in 1990, the Pyramid is in better condition than the other two follies erected by the Brownes on their estate at the Neale. A short distance to the south can be found an hexagonal temple. It consists of six plain Doric columns supporting an entablature with carved cornice and frieze. Likely once roofed, the temple stands on a high hexagonal stone base which can be entered from the rear. Inside this, a series of vaults spring from the outer walls to a central hexagonal arrangement of piers, which support the columns of the structure above. Frequently, the lower portion of such buildings was used by servants, where they could prepare tea and other refreshments for the owners who sat in the space above admiring the parkland around them. Unfortunately, little is known about the date or designer of the building, but it may have been constructed in the 1770s when the first Lord Kilmaine was engaged in landscaping this part of the estate.
And finally, a little to the west and in woodland on the periphery of the former demesne can be found a very odd structure known as the Gods of the Neale. Set within a tiered rusticated structure (and surrounded by fragrant wild garlic when the Irish Aesthete recently visited) are carvings of three mythical figures, a griffin, a unicorn and an angel. Below them, a large tablet bearing the date 1753 carries a complex text that claims that the figures were found in a cave nearby and that they were the ancient Gods of the Neale, ‘or the Gods of Felicity.’ It’s all rather absurd, but that’s an important characteristic of follies: they don’t have to make sense. This is certainly true of the three surviving examples in the Neale, which means they are all the more precious. 


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Wilful Waste



Following Monday’s entry on St Loman’s Hospital in Mullingar, County Westmeath, nothing better exemplifies the Health Service Executive’s indifference to the condition of historic buildings supposedly under its care than the state of the property’s gatelodge. This charming little property, adjacent to a road leading into the centre of the town, dates from the last quarter of the 19th century and was soon after extended in a style ‘similar to a Swiss cottage’ to provide a residence for the institution’s head male attendant. When surveyed for buildingsofireland.ie in 2004 it was in decent condition and used as an office. Since then, instead of being refurbished and providing much needed accommodation, it has been allowed to fall into dereliction.



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Squandering National Resources


On 13 September 1847, the Lord Lieutenant and Council of Ireland made an order that an Asylum for Lunatic Poor be constructed near Mullingar, County Westmeath, to accommodate 300 inmates and to be known as the Mullingar Lunatic Asylum. The following year a site for the building was established after 25 acres and nine perches of land on the edge of the town were purchased from a local man, Thomas Tuite, for the sum of £829. Work began in 1850, the architect given the commission being Dubliner John Skipton Mulvany, responsible for many railway stations and other similar public buildings throughout Ireland. When completed in 1855, some £35,430 had been spent on the hospital. That sum and the cost of a number of other such asylums around the country led to allegations of extravagance and an investigation by the Treasury Commissioners later that year. Specifically in relation to the Mullingar asylum, complaints centred on what some deemed overuse of architectural decoration such as projecting bay windows and Tudoresque chimneystacks, as well as the employment of high-quality limestone which had to be brought by cart from a quarry some 20 miles away. However, the investigating officers, while conceding that there may have been too much embellishment, judged the resultant structure to be ‘pleasing in style and built in a manner highly creditable to the architects engaged and ornamental to the country.’ The south-facing, three-storey building runs to an extraordinary 41 bays, with an advanced central five bay entrance incorporating a single-bay gable-fronted section and advanced single-bay gable-fronted sections on either side, plus further advanced full-height gable-fronted blocks at the east and west ends. Between these, the risk of potential monotony is avoided by the intermittent deployment of shallow projecting gable-fronted bays which give the façade a consistently engaging rhythm and make it a delight to behold.The north side is now harder to read, since it has been much altered over the past 170 years,  but intermittent glimpses suggest it was always plainer and more functional in appearance. Growing numbers of patients being admitted, meant that not much more than a decade after first opening, the hospital needed to expand and following the acquisition of a further ten acres on either side of the site, in 1868 architect George Moyers was appointed to design extensions to each end of Mulvany’s original block, as well as a new dining hall and general purpose room, at the cost of just over £4,698: this work was completed in 1870. By this time, there were 400 inmates on the premises and over the following decades a number of substantial freestanding buildings were erected around the campus, beginning with Petitswood, built in 1895 and accommodating 150 male patients. 






The original building that opened as Mullingar Lunatic Asylum, later renamed St Loman’s Hospital continued to serve the same function, albeit with modifications to the services provided, until some 13 years ago. Long before that date there had been discussion about the suitability of the building, particularly in the closing decades of the last century when long-term residential care for psychiatric patients began to be discouraged, particularly in older institutions constructed in an era with different attitudes towards mental health. One of the problems which the hospital faced was insufficient maintenance: not an unusual phenomenon in Ireland. A much-cited report produced by the country’s Inspector of Mental Health Services in 2007 noted that ‘Apart from the admission units, the conditions in areas of St Loman’s Hospital remained very poor with damp, peeling paint, tiles lifting on floors, poor sanitary facilities, curtains falling down and drab and institutional-style furnishings and decor. A significantly large number of these areas were dirty, including sluice rooms and bathrooms and toilets. In short, the conditions that people with enduring mental illness have to live in permanently in St Loman’s Hospital were deplorable… every effort must be made to close the hospital immediately.’ In other words, the building had not been properly maintained but instead allowed to fall into a bad state of repair. In consequence, it was inevitable that in December 2013 the last ward in the building was moved elsewhere on the site and the building closed, seemingly without any plans being made for its future use.






In the 13 years since its closure, St Loman’s Hospital has sat empty and falling into an ever-worse condition of repair: a number of intrepid venturers have gained access to the interior and posted images showing abandoned wards and public areas, often still containing furnishings that might be salvaged and given alternative use. The problem, as so often with national bodies such as Ireland’s Health Service Executive (HSE), is that there appears to be a want of concern over the care of what are public assets: this is a property which belongs to the Irish people and which is being permitted to decline in value through inadequate maintenance. The HSE has form here, see: A Poor Example « The Irish Aesthete. The indifference displayed time and again towards these historic buildings is truly shocking, and represents an appalling waste of the country’s resources. In 2024, more than a decade after the hospital had been closed to patients, the HSE announced that it was ‘open to finding an alternative use’ for the building, instead of actively seeking to do so at a time when many citizens struggle to find somewhere to live and the figures for homelessness climb ever higher. Last December, the organisation’s national director and head of Strategic Health Infrastructure and Capital Delivery informed a Joint Oireachtas Committee on Health, ‘If we identify a property surplus to our requirements, we put it on the state register in line with all our requirements for disposing of state assets’ while another employee, this time a regional executive officer, advised that discussions were ‘ongoing’ with regard to St Loman’s. In this instance, as in so many others, there appears to be no particular rush to engage in the ‘disposal’ of the building as it is left to deteriorate still further. There is absolutely no reason why this should be so. One large property, formerly called St Patrick’s and constructed in the 1930s to provide accommodation to some of the hospital’s male patients, was successfully redeveloped in the late 1990s as Deravarra House, a private apartment block. If and when some similar scheme is devised for the original hospital here, it will benefit the public purse less and cost whoever takes on the task more – thanks to the dilatory behaviour of the HSE.


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Composed Of Different Parts



After Monday’s post about St Mary’s Cathedral in Tuam, County Galway which featured a High Cross, here is another of the latter, located to the west of the church in the hilltop village of Tynan, County Armagh. This one has a rather complex history. There may have been an ancient monastic settlement in Tynan, but the cross, having been moved at least twice, was only placed in its present position in 1960 and is composed of elements from two monuments, although both are believed to date from the 10th century. The upper shaft and head derive from one cross and the lower shaft comes from another. The east face of the lower shaft incorporates a carved panel showing Adam and Eve; on the opposite side is a heavily weathered panel showing a tall figure and several smaller figures. Above panels of interlaced decoration, the head,  decorated with tall bosses with traces of interlace, has been extensively mended and partially reconstructed.  

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