Category Archives: Country House

Visionary



After Monday’s melancholic post about the former bishop’s palace in Clonfert, here is a more cheering story. More than eight years ago, in May 2016, the Irish Aesthete was taken to see a house called Solsborough in County Tipperary. Dating from the first half of the 19th century, although likely on the site of an older property, the place had long since been unroofed and abandoned, and like so many other buildings of its kind, left a shell on the landscape. But in 2014 Solsborough was bought by the present owners who gradually embarked on an ambitious and thorough restoration programme: as can be seen in the photographs above, this was only beginning to get underway at the time of the 2016. Today the house has been fully and wonderfully brought back to use, a further demonstration that no such building is beyond salvation – and re-use – provided there is sufficient vision on the part of those responsible.


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Seventy Years Ago…


The charming cathedral dedicated to St Brendan in Clonfert, County Galway has featured here before (see The Traveller’s Rest « The Irish Aesthete). And because Clonfert was, until the 1833, a separate diocese in the Church of Ireland (it remains so in the Roman Catholic church), there was also an episcopal palace, now alas a sad ruin. Standing a short distance to the north of the cathedral, the oldest part of this building is thought to date back to the late 16th or early 17th century, possibly constructed during the episcopacy of Stephen Kirwan (bishop of Clonfert 1682-1701) who served as a justice and commissioner for the province of Connaught. There is no doubt that Clonfert, today a sleepy hamlet, was then judged a place of some importance since in 1579, Elizabeth I, in her Orders to be observed by Sir Nicholas Maltby for the better government of the province of Connaught’ declared ‘We are desirous that a college should be erected in the nature of an university in some convenient place in Ireland for instructing and education of youth in lerninge. And We conceive the Town of Clonfert within the province of Connaught to be aptlie seated both for helth and comodity of the ryver of Shenen running by it and because it is also neere to the midle of the realme, whereby all men may, with small travel send their children thither.’ The queen may have heard that during a much earlier period, Clonfert had been a great seat of learning, or perhaps it was just that the cathedral and its ancillary buildings were located in a central location and, as she observed, close to the river Shannon, then a major means of travel through Ireland. However, the idea of establishing a college here never happened, and it was only in 1592 that the country’s first university was founded in Dublin.





As mentioned, while parts of the former bishop’s palace in Clonfert may go back to the late 16th century, a more substantial portion of the building dates from c.1635, during the episcopacy of Robert Dawson, who had become Bishop of the newly-united dioceses of Clonfert and Kilmacduagh in 1627 and would hold that position until his death in 1643 (incidentally, he was also the forebear of a family that would go on to become great landowners and developers in Ireland, not least his great-grandson Joshua Dawson who was responsible for laying out Dawson Street in Dublin and building what is now the Mansion House). Oak beams and roof joists in the palace have been dated to around this period, although further changes and additions were made at some time in the 18th century, when a Venetian window was inserted.
In his memoirs, published in 1805, the playwright Richard Cumberland wrote about the palace in Clonfert, which he knew well since his father Denison Cumberland had lived there while bishop of the diocese (1763-1772). ‘This humble residence,’ he recalled, ‘was not devoid of comfort and convenience, for it contained some tolerable lodging rooms, and was capacious enough to receive me and mine without straitening the family. A garden of seven acres, well planted and disposed into pleasant walks, kept in the neatest order, was attached to the house, and at the extremity of a broad gravel walk in front stood the cathedral.’ Cumberland also remembered how, while staying with his father on one occasion, he used ‘a little closet at the back of the palace, as it was called, unfurnished and out of use, with no other prospect from my single window but that of a turf-stack’, as a room in which to begin writing what would prove to be his most successful stage work, the comedy The West-Indian (first performed at London’s Drury Lane Theatre in 1771). However, Clonfert was always one of the poorest episcopacies in the country and as a result successive bishops – many of whom managed to have themselves transferred to richer dioceses after only a short period of time – were disinclined to make improvements to their residence. For this reason, it retained much of its 17th century character, being long and low, of eight bays and two storeys with dormer windows. The surrounding demesne also underwent relatively few changes. There survives, for example, a yew walk running south-west of the palace, which may be even older, but certainly has the character of 17th century baroque garden design. Like the building to which it leads, the yew walk is now sadly neglected.




Clonfert Palace remained home to successive Church of Ireland bishops until 1834 when, following the creation of a new united diocese of Killaloe and Clonfert, it became surplus to requirements and was sold to John Eyre Trench. In 1947 his descendants sold the building to the Blake-Kelly family who, four years later, sold it to the next owners who would be the last people to live in the former palace. By then the place was in poor condition and required extensive renovation, along with the installation of electricity, new bathrooms and so forth before it could be occupied; the new chatelaine drove over from her temporary residence in Co Tipperary to oversee this work. Finally, once complete, in February 1952 she and her family arrived, along with a retinue that included housekeeper, cook, maid and chauffeur, as well as a gardener to maintain the grounds. A local newspaper, the Westmeath Independent, reported that ‘‘Sir Oswald and Lady Mosley, who have a large staff, are charmed with Ireland, its people, the tempo of its life and its scenery.’ The same publication also briefly noted that ‘Sir Oswald was the former leader of a political movement in England.’ The ‘political movement’ had, of course, been the British Union of Fascists (later the British Union) and both Sir Oswald and his wife, the former Diana Mitford, had been interned for a number of years during the second World War by the British government, and had found themselves shunned in the aftermath of their release. Ireland had several advantages, not least the fact that two of Diana Mosley’s sisters already owned properties in the country, Deborah, Duchess of Devonshire at Lismore Castle, County Waterford and Pamela Jackson at Tullamaine Castle, County Tipperary. Country houses here were going cheap, and there were still sufficient other landed families still about to make life agreeable to the newly-arrived. For the next two years, the Mosleys remained contentedly at Clonfert, attracting little attention although they were discreetly observed by both the Irish and British governments. Such might have remained the case, had not disaster struck exactly 70 years ago, in early December 1954. At the time, Diana Mosley was in London, but her husband and their two children were in County Galway when fire broke out, seemingly caused by an old beam inside the chimney of the maids’ sitting room. The blaze spread quickly, so fast indeed that according to a report in the following day’s Irish Times, a French maid, Mademoiselle Cerrecoundo, who had run upstairs to rescue some clothes, became trapped in the building. Sir Oswald, his son Alexander and the chauffeur, Monsieur Thevenon, held a blanket beneath one of the windows and the maid leapt to her safety, with only minor injuries to her back and hand. Alas, the old palace was not so lucky and while a handful of rooms and their contents were saved, most of the building was lost as it took an hour and a half for fire brigades to reach Clonfert. The following day, hurricane-force winds and torrential rain ripped across the entire country, compounding the damage done to the house and leaving it a sorry wreck. In 1955 the Mosleys moved to Ileclash, a Georgian overlooking the river Blackwater in County Cork where they lived intermittently until 1963 when the couple moved to France. As for Clonfert Palace, despite being described on www.buildingsofireland.com in 2009 as being of national significance, it was left to moulder into its present advanced state of decay. What could have been saved as a rare example of late 16th/early 17th century Irish domestic architecture has been lost.


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Souvenirs of a Lost Demesne


Dromoland Castle is now such a familiar part of the County Clare landscape that it is easy to overlook the fact that this was by no means the only residence ever built on the same site, being instead merely the latest of them. It appears likely that a 16th century tower house stood here before being swept away by, or incorporated into, an early 18th century house. A water colour of the latter building, painted shortly before it was swept away, shows this to have been of classical design, and of ten bays and two storeys over raised basement with a four-bay pedimented breakfront. It only stood for some 100 years because in 1813, the estate’s owner Sir Edward O’Brien, fourth baronet, decided that he needed a new house, and invited the young architect James Pain, then working at Lough Cutra, County Galway (see Domat Omnia Virtus* « The Irish Aesthete) to come up with designs. Pain’s initial proposal was for another classical residence and nothing came of the project, but then Sir Edward also looked at schemes from Richard and William Vitruvius Morrison, and from Thomas Hopper  and did not used these either (although Hopper’s Doric Temple gatelodge still greets visitors to the estate, as can be seen below). Six years later Pain, together with his brother George, came up with another scheme, this time for a large Gothic castle. The design proved acceptable and was slowly constructed over the next two decades at a cost of some £50,000. Writing in 1837, as building work concluded, Samuel Lewis described the new residence as ‘a superb edifice in the castellated style, lately erected on the site of the ancient mansion, and surrounded by an extensive and richly wooded demesne…’ 





While the Pain brothers’ castle now dominates the Dromoland estate, traces remain of its 18th century predecessor. Set atop an artificial mound to the west of the house – and now regrettably wedged between a road and a motorway – is an elegant octagonal Belvedere. The building dates from the early 1740s and is believed to have been designed by self-trained architectural draughtsman John Aheron, a protégé of Dromoland’s then-owner Sir Edward O’Brien. Passionately interested in horses – and gambling – Sir Edward apparently commissioned the Belvedere so that he could watch racing across his land, and have views as far as Ennis, the county town some seven miles away. The building is of rubble stone with brick dressings, which may have once been rendered, and cut stone used for the cornice, string course and arches over the door and windows, three of which are glazed, the others blind. Entrance to the building is gained via a flight of stone steps on the eastern front while on the opposite side a cutting in the ground provides access to a semi-basement, presumably where servants would have prepared food and drink. The single room main floor has a vaulted ceiling and was heated by a fireplace set in the north-west wall. Having fallen into disrepair, the Belvedere was repaired some years ago.  





An estate map of c.1740 shows the gardens at Dromoland to have had an elaborate formal layout featuring a series of avenues and terraces, as well as vistas of which a Temple of Mercury formed part: located to the north-east of the house, it stands at the crossing point of two straight paths. Encircled by yew trees, the temple is composed of eight Doric columns supporting a timber dome covered in lead on which perches a bronze statue of Mercury, derived from Giambologna’s original of 1580. Seemingly, Sir Edward O’Brien had gambled the entire Dromoland estate on one of his stable, a horse called Sean Buí, winning a race at Newmarket. Fortunately the horse came in first and following the animal’s death, he was buried beneath the temple. Sir Edward’s passion for equestrian sport can be found in another souvenir of the 18th estate: an archway into the former stableyard. Now rather lost at the rear of a bedroom extension, the archway is of crisp limestone ashlar and bears a tablet set into the pediment. Dated 1736, it is inscribed with a motto derived from one of Horace’s Odes and reads ‘In Equis Patrum Virtus’ (In horses lie the father’s power). As is well known, Dromoland Castle and surrounding 330 acres were sold by the O’Brien family in 1962 and then became an hotel, as continues to be the case.


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The House on the Hill



Salthill is well-named as it sits on high ground overlooking the harbour at Mountcharles, County Donegal. Of two storeys over raised basement and five bays, the house has a central pedimented breakfront with Diocletian window. The building is thought to date from the 1770s and may have been designed by Dublin-based architect Thomas Ivory, commissioned by the Conyngham family who owned a large estate in this part of the country, since for many years it served as a residence for their agent. More recently the present owners of the property have created extensive gardens to the rear of the house.



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A Vanishing World


Many people will be familiar with the photographs taken during the last century by the Jesuit priest, Fr Francis Browne, both those of the Titanic (which he boarded for its maiden voyage before disembarking prior to its ill-fated voyage across the Atlantic Ocean) and those depicting everyday life in Ireland. Much less well-known are the series of country house pictures that Browne began to take from the late 1940s until a few years before his death in 1960. In 1947 he received the first of a series of commissions from the Irish Tatler & Sketch, which described itself as ‘Ireland’s Premier Social & Sporting Monthly.’ Many of these pieces featured not only photographs by Browne but also texts which he had written.
No information has been found to explain how the Irish Tatler & Sketch initiated contact with Browne, but by then, thanks to his work with the various other organisations, he was well-known as a photographer of exceptional ability. Furthermore, he had already been taking pictures of historic houses for some time, since during this period quite a number of them were occupied by Catholic religious orders. His earliest images of Rathfarnham Castle, for example, date from 1920, just seven years after the building had been bought by the Jesuit order. Similarly, he often photographed Emo Court in the years after it was acquired by the same order, for many of which he lived in the building.
However, Browne now began to take pictures of houses still in secular hands. In April 1945, in a letter to his Provincial Superior, he explained that earlier that year, while in Portlaw, County Waterford to give a Triduum (a Catholic religious observance lasting three days), he had received permission to visit nearby Curraghmore, home to the de la Poer Beresfords, Marquises of Waterford. ‘I did so,’ he elaborated, ‘because I am collecting a set of Georgian Houses, & Curraghmore was on the list given me by the Georgian Society.’ It is unclear which organisation he means, since the original Georgian Society had come to an end in 1913 and its eventual successor, the Irish Georgian Society, was not established until 1958; it may be that he was using the fifth volume of the Georgian Society Records (published 1913) which contained a catalogue of important country houses throughout the country, or else perhaps another work, Georgian Mansions in Ireland by Thomas Sadleir and Page L. Dickinson, which appeared in 1915 and which devoted several pages to Curraghmore.   In any case, it says a great deal about Fr Browne’s character and a reflection of his personal charm that he was able to gain access to so many houses at a time when they were still in private hands and not open to the public.

Killeen Castle, County Meath

The first country house photographed by Browne to appear in the Irish Tatler & Sketch was Shelton Abbey, County Wicklow, home for some 200 years to the Howards, Earls of Wicklow. By now it was home to the last of the family to live there, William Howard, eighth earl who in 1932 had converted to Catholicism, much to the disgust of his father (seemingly, he was appalled at the idea of Shelton Abbey’s heir attending the same church as the servants). Browne had visited the house in November 1946, but the following April he sought permission to go there again, as Lord Wicklow had recently told him ‘that owing to his circumstance, he proposes utilising Shelton Abbey as a kind of hotel or “Country Club”.’ He therefore wanted Browne to return to the house and take further photographs ‘before the necessary alterations are made.’ The building was then still filled with treasures accumulated by generations of Howards, many of them captured in situ by Browne as he and his camera went from room to room. He visited in good time because the hotel venture was not a success and after just three years Lord Wicklow was obliged to sell Shelton Abbey’s contents in a spectacular auction that lasted for 13 days. The great majority of lots went to overseas buyers and left Ireland, making Browne’s pictures priceless as a guide to how the house once looked. Shelton Abbey is today an open prison and much of its interior badly affected by institutional use.



Rockingham. County Roscommon

Some of the houses photographed by Browne have either since been demolished, such as Rockingham and Frenchpark, both in County Roscommon, or left a ruin, like Killeen Castle, County Meath. A number of others that he visited – the likes of Adare Manor, County Limerick and Dromoland Castle, County Clare – are now hotels. Many more, among them Knocklofty, County Tipperary and Glananea, County Westmeath, have changed hands on more than one occasion and long lost their original contents. Happily, the story of what has happened since that time is not all bad. Some of the houses Browne visited, not least Castletown, County Kildare and Malahide Castle, County Dublin, are now in public ownership and open to visitors, while the Ormond Castle, County Tipperary has, since passing into the care of the Office of Public Works, benefitted from an extensive programme of restoration. And a few of the houses shown over the coming pages remain in the same hands and have experienced relatively little change, among them the aforementioned Curraghmore and Lismore Castle, both in County Waterford, and Dunsany Castle, County Meath.

Shelton Abbey, County Wicklow

While Browne photographed more than 50 country houses, he did not cover all of Ireland. Had he been a free agent, he might have taken pictures of a great many other places but he could only go where he was permitted to go by his superiors in the Jesuit order; many visits to these historic properties were tagged on to other trips undertaken in the course of his work as a Catholic priest. In consequence, there are omissions. An obvious absence is Northern Ireland which, in the decades after Independence, Browne does not appear to have visited. Most of the houses he photographed were in the east, the Midlands and the south. Other than the two Roscommon properties already mentioned, the West is unrepresented, and, aside from two houses in County Louth and one in County Monaghan, he took no pictures of houses north of Dublin.
These gaps are regrettable but, given the photographer’s circumstances, understandable. We must be grateful that Browne managed to visit so many old houses and record them for posterity before the majority underwent irrevocable change. Not all of them feature in a new book, A Vanishing World: The Irish Country House Photographs of Father Browne, published this week. Limitations of space and the desire to give adequate space to the houses included in the present work means many more had to be left out. In a small number of cases, the pictures are not of the best quality or of insufficient number to merit their presence. In others, the houses have already been well documented, and images of them are easily available to anyone interested. Pictures of a few more are included in the book’s introduction, such as Mespil House in Dublin, home for many years of the pioneering artist Sarah Purser, which Browne photographed just a couple of months after her death in August 1943. Within a decade, the mid-18th century building had been demolished, although thankfully three of its remarkable ceilings, attributed to the stuccodore Barthelemy Cramillion, were salvaged; two of them are now in Dublin Castle, and one in Aras an Uachtaráin. Then there was Lamberton, County Laois, a large two-storey Georgian houses which Browne visited in January 1944, just a few months before it was stripped of everything worth salvaging and then demolished. Heywood, also in Laois, had been acquired by the Salesian order in 1941 and Browne photographed it on two occasions, in July 1943 and September 1945. Again, these images are important because in January 1950 the house was gutted by fire and later levelled.
After the pictures of Shelton Abbey appeared in the Irish Tatler & Sketch in 1947, further examples of Browne’s country house photographs continued to appear in the magazine for a number of years, as they did in other publications, including Ireland of the Welcomes in 1953-54, and then The Irish Digest. By then he had stopped travelling so much – he was, after all, in his mid-seventies – and would lead a more retired life until his death in 1960. Like the rest of his output, for a long time his photographs of Irish country house were forgotten and even when other pictures had been rediscovered and published, this particular group has not been given much attention. This new publication therefore serves two purposes: it allows us to see how these buildings looked in the middle of the last century and it gives us an opportunity to celebrate once more the outstanding talents of Fr Francis Browne, photographer.

Frenchpark, County Roscommon

A Vanishing World: The Irish Country House Photographs of Father Browne is published by Messenger Publications

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State-Sponsored Neglect


Above are the front and rear elevations of Towerhill, County Mayo, a house believed to date from the close of the 18th century when built for Isidore Blake, whose descendants continued to own the property until 1948 when the building’s contents were auctioned and the place itself subsequently stripped of everything that might be removed, slates from the roof, floorboards and doorcases, chimneypieces and so forth. Of six bays and two storeys over basement, Towerhill is unusual in that all four sides of the house are pedimented, and finished to the same high standard; the architect responsible for this work is unknown. The property is now owned by the state’s forestry body, Coillte, which accounts for its neglected condition.


A New Vision


The narrative of the Irish country house as a place of dishevelment and decay has a long and melancholic history, stretching back to the publication of Maria Edgeworth’s seminal novel Castle Rackrent in 1800. Her vision of properties and their owners both being hopelessly atrophied found many fictional heirs for almost two centuries, continuing as late as Caroline Blackwood’s Great Granny Webster, which appeared in 1977 and Molly Keane’s Good Behaviour published four years later. These accounts present variations on the same theme: that the Irish country house, dank, gloomy and bitterly cold, has no viable future and is doomed to sink into ruin. In truth, the notion of the Big House – as such buildings are traditionally known in Ireland – being in terminal decline frequently had its basis in fact. In March 1912, Violet Martin, one half of the writing duo Somerville and Ross, informed her c0-author Edith Somerville about a recent visit to Tyrone House, County Galway which she found ‘rather dilapidated and ‘where rioted three or four generations of St. Georges – living with country-women, occasionally marrying them, all illegitimate four times over. No so long ago eight of these awful half-peasant families roosted together in that lovely house, and fought, and barricaded and drank, till the police had to intervene.’ Tyrone House duly served as the inspiration for Somerville and Ross’s 1925 novel, The Big House of Inver.





Fortunately, in recent decades there have been other, and happier, stories deserving to be told, as will be discovered in The Irish Country House: A New Vision. The fifteen houses featured offer an alternative narrative, not just about historic Irish properties but about Ireland herself. Once dogged by persistent poverty and a pervasive atmosphere of dejection, since the 1990s the country has undergone something of a transformation. This change of circumstances has brought with it fresh opportunities and the promise of a better future for Irish country houses. Formerly, the sale and abandonment of big old properties was a common occurrence, but this is no longer the only or even most frequent option. Instead, the possibility of a new life has become viable. Which is not to suggest that every historic house can be assured of a secure future; there are still buildings being lost, like so many of their equivalents in the past. But the chances of salvation are now much better than used to be the case.





Almost all the properties featured in The Irish Country House: A New Vision have had to undergo extensive restoration since the start of the present century, some of them are still in the process of being restored. Had they not been acquired or inherited by the present generation of owners it is probable that at least some of them would have been lost forever.
It takes a particular kind of pluck, or perhaps madness, to assume responsibility for a house much larger than the average family home, and constructed in an era when staff to maintain the building were plentiful and cheap. Fortunately, there are people gifted with this kind of pluck, along with generous quantities of imagination and determination. These traits are particularly necessary when the house in question is currently in poor condition, sometimes even downright ruinous. Not everyone possesses the character required for the task, just as not everyone wants to take on the challenge of bringing an old house back to life. Providentially, Ireland is blessed that there are increasing numbers of them who relish the opportunity, with all its potential highs and lows. Some of them feature in the book, but there are many more who are at different stages of the journey towards the creation of a viable, comfortable family home. The hazards of taking on an historic house are obvious, cost being just one of them. But there are advantages too, not least the chance to put your own stamp on a building. Along with installing new plumbing and electric wiring, with repairing gutters and replacing damaged windows, comes the possibility of further enhancing the character of a place, of adding another distinctive chapter to its story. This is what sets apart these properties. They disprove the long-standing narrative of the Irish country house as being in irremediable decline and instead inform us that these buildings have been blessed with an irresistible and dynamic new spirit.


The Irish Country House: A New Vision is published by Rizzoli

 

What a Waste


The history of Knockanally, County Kildare is rather opaque, although it is known that the Coates family, the first of whom appears to have arrived in Ireland in the early 1700s, acquired the land on which it stands from the Aylmers who lived not far away at the now-derelict Donadea Castle (see Another Blot on the Landscape « The Irish Aesthete). Some kind of residence was built at Knockanally and in the mid-18th century this was occupied by one William Coates, known to have died in 1766 when the property was inherited by his eldest son, Matthew. When his grandson William Lancake Coates died in the following century, Knockanally was inherited by William Coristine Coates, the son of his cousin. His descendants appear to have continued living on the estate until it was taken over by the Irish Land Commission in 1942 and subsequently divided among various farmers. The immediate demesne and main house were then sold to a Captain Sheppard, who in turn sold it to the Maharani of Baroda. In 1959, ownership passed to the Rehabilitation Institute, which used the house as a convalescent home for the victims of polio.Further changes of ownership seem to have followed before Knockanally was bought in 1983 by Noel Lyons, who turned the land into an 18-hole golf course. 





As it appears today, Knockanally dates from c.1843 when commissioned by William Lancake Coates on a site east of the original house. The architect responsible was Dublin-born William Deane Butler, much of whose work involved designing institutional buildings such as court and market houses, although he did receive commissions for a number of country houses also. As noted by the late Jeremy Williams, Knockanally is almost a cube, ‘if its height is assessed on the three-storied central bay.’ Of two storeys over basement and faced with wonderfully crisp limestone ashlar, the building is entered via an Ionic portico flanked by Venetian windows with a third directly above it. On this level, windows within shallow recesses open onto balconies: these can also be found on each of the four-bay side elevations. Seemingly the interior featured a central, double-height and top-lit hall. Williams has noted that this is a reduced version of the hall in Dublin’s Broadstone station, designed by John Skipton Mulvany who, he suggests, may therefore have had a hand in Knockanally. As for the very substantial and elaborate gatelodge at the entrance to the former estate, J.A.K. Dean dates this to c.1870, too late to have been designed by either Butler (who died in 1857) but may have come from Mulvany as he lived until that date. 




In September 2010 it was reported that one of the country’s banks had appointed a receiver over Knockanally Golf Club, set in 125 acres; this move came a few days after creditors of Ferndale Leisure, the holding company behind the club, had met to appoint a liquidator; at the time, with an economic recession at this height, quite a number of Ireland’s golf clubs were going into receivership. Three years later, the club, the main house, gate lodge and a number of golf ‘lodges’ in the grounds, was sold to a Warwickshire-based company, St Francis Group for  €1.1 million: some years earlier, this portfolio had been valued at €3.5 to €4 million. Quite what has happened since then seems to be unclear. Refurbishment work was carried out on the house and other buildings on the site, but in September 2018 the local Leinster Leader reported that the golf club had again closed down and was to be offered for sale. Since then, both the house and gate lodge have remained closed and boarded up, with inevitable deterioration in the fabric of both buildings. A dreadful waste.

The Bishop’s Legacy



After Monday’s tale of Riverstown, County Cork, here are the scant remains of another, slightly earlier property built by another member of the same family. In 1710 Dr Peter Browne, former Provost of Trinity College Dublin, was appointed Church of Ireland Bishop of the United Dioceses of Cork and Ross. Ten years later, he acquired some 118 acres of land to the immediate south-east of the city, with the intention of constructing there ‘a good, substantial and convenient dwelling house and a chapel thereunto adjoining together with suitable offices.’ Named Bishopstown and finished in 1726 at a cost of more than £2,000, he created this property and surrounding demesne to serve as “a fit and convenient residence for himself and his successors, the bishops of Cork and Ross”.  The adjacent chapel was consecrated in 1730. Alas, his successors failed to appreciate this legacy and already by 1792 the house at Bishopstown was described as being ‘in a state of decay and totally unfit for the residence of the bishop.’ In the early 1830s the place was leased to a farmer and then in 1878 the Ecclesiastical Commissioners sold the land and buildings. It passed through various hands before being bought by Cork Corporation about half a century ago. Many of the buildings were then in a better condition than is now the case (and some of them have been demolished over the intervening years). What remains is a former farmhouse incorporating an early 18th century limestone doorcase retrieved from the since-lost mansion, and the skeletal remains of the chapel (see below). In the immediate vicinity, jostling for attention with a children’s playground, are a pair of small, three-arched bridges and fragments of a circular battlemented shell house, thought perhaps to have been built during the episcopacy of Robert Clayton, the bishop here 1735-45. Bishopstown today is a heavily-developed suburb of Cork city.


Rescued from Ruin


The extraordinary work of sibling stuccodores Paolo and Filippo Lafranchini, born in the Italian-speaking Swiss canton of Ticino but resident in Ireland for many years, has featured here before (see, among others, To the Muses « The Irish Aesthete and Exuberance « The Irish Aesthete). A relatively little known example of their skills can be found in Riverstown, a house to the immediate north-east of Cork city. The land on which the property stands came into the possession of the Browne family in the second half of the 17th century, but assumed much of its present appearance after 1733 when it became the residence of Dr Jemmet Browne, a Church of Ireland clergyman who would serve successively as Bishop of Killaloe, Dromore, Cork and Ross, Elphin and finally Archbishop of Tuam, which position he held at the time of his death in 1782. The earliest known reference to Riverstown is found in Charles Smith’s The Ancient And Present State of the County and City of Cork, published in 1750, where it is described as ‘a pleasant seat of the Lord Bishop of Cork. The house is beautified with several curious pieces of stucco, performed by the Francinis, brothers.’ We know, therefore, that the work executed in the saloon at Riverstown was carried out either before Browne became Bishop of Cork (1745) or very soon afterwards. And that he continued to carry out improvements on the building in the years after Smith’s book appeared, since a hopper is dated 1753. The exterior gives little idea of the rich decoration inside. The entrance front is modest, of two storeys and five bays, although what was the garden front is more substantial, running to seven bays and three storeys. The north end of the house the gable ends were replaced by a pair of full-height canted bays, that to the front climbing an additional storey, this last alteration believed to date from c.1830

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It tells us a great deal about this country’s cosmopolitan culture in the 18th century that a Church of Ireland clergyman – and one who rose to become an archbishop – should have decorated his private residence with pagan iconography. The saloon in Riverstown includes a series of eight panels across three walls, all of them including figures. The fourth wall has three windows and between these are a pair of mirror set in elaborate frames. The ceiling is also covered in stuccowork, centred on an oval frame derived from Nicolas Poussin’s Le Temps soustrait La  Vérité aux atteints de L’Envie et de la Discorde, painted in 1641 for Cardinal Richelieu and now in the Louvre. As for the figurative wall panels,for a long time thought as being random, the source for these was identified by Joseph McDonnell in 1991 as being taken directly from the Roman antiquarian Paolo Alessandro Maffei’s edition of Leonardo Agostini’s Gemme Antiche Figurate, published 1707-09. Beginning with the chimneypiece, the panel above it depicts the mythological Roman figure of Marcus Curtius on horseback, while next to it is one showing Aeneas carrying his father Anchises. The third panel shows Liberty, followed by Ceres and then Fides Publica, Fortuna and Cincinnatus. Finally, the panel at the far end of the room and facing the chimneypiece depicts Roma mounted in a chariot. That chimneypiece is not the original one (which is now in a first floor bedroom) but a replacement installed during restoration work in the 1960s). As already mentioned, between the three windows are two framed mirrors (still holding their original glass) surrounded by elaborate plasterwork incorporating flowers, foliage and female busts. The opposite wall is centred on a door, its frame with a finely carved broken pediment. To the north of the saloon are a pair of bow-ended drawing rooms, again much of their present decoration dating from the 1960s restoration of Riverstown. 






Riverstown remained in the possession of the Browne family until the middle of the last century but by the 1950s it stood empty and the threat of irreparable deterioration seemed so likely that moulds of the saloon were made by the Office of Public Works; these were installed in the Irish President’s residence Áras an Uachtaráin. Not long afterwards Riverstown and its surrounding land were bought by a Cork market gardener, John Dooley who in the mid-1960s collaborated with the Irish Georgian Society on restoring the building, thanks to donations from the public. By the end of 1965 Riverstown’s saloon had been restored to its former beauty, the initial work costing £717. The Dooleys were sufficiently inspired by this initiative to undertaken further work on the house and in the IGS’s January-March 1970 Bulletin, it was reported that one of the house’s two late 18th century drawing rooms ‘has been given a new dado, architraves, chimney-piece, overdoors and overmantel.’  Ten years after the society’s initial involvement, still more work had been achieved as a feature in the Cork Evening Echo noted, with the second drawing room walls covered in green silk and hung with 18th century pictures. Riverstown continues to be home to the Dooley family.