Category Archives: Tipperary

In Need of Amendment


In 1779 Charles Agar, hitherto Bishop of Cloyne, was appointed Archbishop of Cashel, following the death of the previous incumbent, Dr Michael Cox. The latter, although he had occupied the archiepiscopal seat for the previous quarter-century, had spent little time in Cashel, preferring to live in the splendid residence he commissioned in County Kilkenny, Castletown Cox. As a result, when Agar arrived in Cashel, he discovered that the palace there ‘certainly had undergone no alterations, and probably received but few repairs from the time it was built…and as the house is wainscotted throughout the parlour and bedchamber stories, and much of the former had originally been painted of a dark brown colour, it made at this time but a dismal appearance.’ Today an hotel, Cashel Palace was designed by Sir Edward Lovett Pearce around 1727 for the then-archbishop Timothy Godwin but he died two years later and the building was completed by his successor Theophilus Bolton who, as is well-known, constructed a library beside his residence, bequeathing a collection of  more than 8,000 volumes to the archdiocese. The Rev Henry Cotton in his Fasti ecclesiae Hibernicae (1847) estimated that the construction cost £3,730, while more recently Anthony Malcomson, in his magisterial Archbishop Charles Agar: Churchmanship and Politics in Ireland, 1760-1810 (2002) has proposed a figure of £3,611. This was an expensive project but by the time Agar arrived, further expenditure was required to bring the palace up to date. The building seems to have been in such poor condition that Sir Cornwallis Maude, who lived not far away at Dundrum, offered the archbishop his own house while he ordered the repairs ‘which I believe necessary before it can be fit for your accommodation.’ Working with the architect Oliver Grace, Agar embarked on a programme of improvements to the palace, which in total would cost him £1,123. 





Recording his time in Cashel, Archbishop Agar noted that when he arrived ‘The door from the hall into the salon was exactly opposite the hall door, and there was in the salon a door into the garden exactly opposite to the door of the room; which not only cut the room, as it were, in two, but rendered it so cold that, as often as any one of the three doors was opened, the room was not habitable with comfort, for no company could be so situated as not to feel the wind. The Archbishop therefore stopped up the door in the centre of the room, and took away entirely that which opened into the garden. He placed the door in the hall at the end of the south side, let all of the windows of the salon down to the ground, and put double doors to this and every room on the parlour storey, and new-sashed the parlour and bed-chamber stories in front and rear. He…put the best species of register grates in the hall, salon and eating parlour, and in all the other rooms of the house. He also painted the whole house once and in some parts twice since he has inhabited it.’ Today, the salon (ie. the drawing room) retains the alterations made to it by Agar, although French windows once again allow access to the gardens. Of the interiors from the time of the palace’s original construction, the staircase hall still has its splendid staircase and the entrance hall retains its panelling. A room to the immediate right of the latter, now used as an office, is also panelled but this decoration may have been recycled when the house underwent reordering by Agar (or even more recently) because until his arrival it served as the main dining room…





‘Though the house was substantially built,’ Archbishop Agar later wrote, ‘and the plan originally a good one in most respects, in some it stood in great need of amendment. The eating parlour was only 19 feet 6 inches by 17 feet, a room certainly altogether too small for such a purpose in such a house. This room was on the east side of the great hall of entrance and could not be enlarged. On the west side of the hall was a room of the same dimensions, at the north end of which, and between it and the breakfast parlour, was a dark passage from the hall to the gallery, leading to the library, in which there was a staircase which communicated by a trap door with the north end of the corridor in the bedroom story. Dr Agar removed this staircase entirely, took down the wall of partition and threw the passage into the eating room, which made it 30 feet long by 19 feet 6 inches broad, and placed a window over the door leading to the library, in order to render that part of the eating room more light.’ After it became an hotel in the 1960s, Agar’s eating room was further opened into the adjacent breakfast parlour to the south to create one large dining room; a divider marks the former division between the two spaces. While many of his alterations were felicitous and have survived, one addition to the building – the construction of a study perched to the rear – proved unsuccessful, not least due to damp, and was taken down by his successor, Charles Brodrick. He is believed to have carried out further alterations to the palace, not least the insertion of dormer windows on the top floor but consideration of Brodrick’s interventions here must wait for another time. 


On May 19th next, I shall be giving a paper on ‘Diocesan domesticity: daily life in Cashel Palace during the episcopacy of Charles Agar, 1779-1801’ at the 23rd Historic Houses Conference held in Maynooth University. For more information, please see: CSHIHE 2025 conference programme Final.pdf

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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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Unhappy Statistics


For many visitors to Ireland, spending time in a local pub – sampling whatever is on offer, engaging in conversation with local residents, perhaps listening to live musicians – is a memorable experience. As indeed it is, and long has been, for the same local residents. However, in many instances, that experience is no longer available. Figures released last year show that an average 152 pubs have closed annually since 2019 and that the number of such licensed premises has declined by 22.5 per cent since 2005. A survey published in August 2022 showed that counties suffering the highest percentage reduction in the number of pubs since 2005 were Laois (30.6%), Offaly (29.9%), Limerick (29.1%), Roscommon (28.3%) and Cork (28.5%). County Meath suffered the least reduction, with just three pubs closing their doors during this period. But the trend is nationwide, as can be testified by anyone who travels around Ireland; wherever you go, there are shuttered premises falling into dereliction, another aspect of Ireland’s heritage slowly disappearing. 




It is easy, too easy, to wax sentimental over the Irish pub and its supposed charms. Certainly some of them are places of great character, well-designed, well-maintained, well-run and a pleasure to visit. A number of them, especially those in the larger cities and towns, are repositories of 19th century craftsmanship, marvels of mahogany, brass and glass. These are the premises that deservedly feature in advertisements and tourist promotions. But there are plenty of other pubs in Ireland devoid of any aesthetic merit, with worn linoleum on the floor, tatty plastic seating and facilities that might most politely be described as grubby. However, whether objects of beauty or not, they all serve the same purpose: providing a venue where people can assemble and enjoy each other’s company. Remove such places, especially in non-urban areas, and you remove the opportunity for those people to meet, thereby increasing the likelihood of isolation. Last June, the European Commission’s Joint Research Centre published a report proposing that Ireland has the highest levels of loneliness in Europe. 




Many explanations have been given for the decline in pubs around Ireland, not least the imposition of stricter legislation around driving and alcohol consumption. While the merits of these measures cannot be questioned, they have coincided with a liberalisation of licensing laws, so that it is now possible to buy alcohol in a much greater number of premises (including petrol stations). The onset of Covid-19 and the obligation of residents to remain in their own properties also encouraged greater consumption of alcohol at home rather than in a public setting, and this is thought to have led to a widespread change in drinking habits. Increased operating costs, not least those of lighting and heating, have also made the business increasingly unviable for many pub owners, particularly those outside large centres of population. Running a business of this kind has grown steadily less attractive or feasible. And so the closures are likely to continue and more premises left to fall into ruin. As if Ireland didn’t already have sufficient derelict buildings.

A Gentle Gothick



Lismacue, County Tipperary, a property which has remained in the same family since the land on which it stands was bought by William Baker in 1704 for £923. Standing at the end of an exceptionally long avenue of lime trees planted c.1760, the building acquired its present, mildly Tudorbethan appearance at the start of the 19th century thanks to Kilkenny architect William Robertson. Of three bays and two storeys, the entrance front’s most notable feature is a single-storey limestone Gothick open porch; a lower service wing to the north concludes in a gable with traceried window, which suggests a chapel (but was probably once a kitchen).  The other two sides looking across the gardens are of five bays, that to the rear having two blind bays as the original intention was for the building to be further extended here. 


Empty Aisle, Deserted Chancel


Lone and weary as I wander’d by the bleak shore of the sea,
Meditating and reflecting on the world’s hard destiny,
Forth the moon and stars ‘gan glimmer, in the quiet tide beneath,
For on slumbering spring and blossom breathed not out of heaven a breath.

On I went in sad dejection, careless where my footsteps bore,
Till a ruined church before me opened wide its ancient door,
Till I stood before the portals, where of old were wont to be,
For the blind, the halt, and leper, alms and hospitality.

Still the ancient seat was standing, built against the buttress grey,
Where the clergy used to welcome weary trav’llers on their way;
There I sat me down in sadness, ‘neath my cheek I placed my hand,
Till the tears fell hot and briny down upon the grassy land.





There, I said in woful sorrow, weeping bitterly the while,
Was a time when joy and gladness reigned within this ruined pile;
Was a time when bells were tinkling, clergy preaching peace abroad,
Psalms a-singing, music ringing praises to the mighty God.

Empty aisle, deserted chancel, tower tottering to your fall,
Many a storm since then has beaten on the grey head of your wall!
Many a bitter storm and tempest has your roof-tree turned away,
Since you first were formed a temple to the Lord of night and day.

Holy house of ivied gables, that were once the country’s boast,
Houseless now in weary wandering are you scattered, saintly host;
Lone you are to-day, and dismal,— joyful psalms no more are heard,
Where, within your choir, her vesper screeches the cat-headed bird.

Ivy from your eaves is growing, nettles round your green hearth-stone,
Foxes howl, where, in your corners, dropping waters make their moan.
Where the lark to early matins used your clergy forth to call,
There, alas! no tongue is stirring, save the daw’s upon the wall.





Refectory cold and empty, dormitory bleak and bare,
Where are now your pious uses, simple bed and frugal fare?
Gone your abbot, rule and order, broken down your altar stones;
Nought see I beneath your shelter, save a heap of clayey bones.

O! the hardship, O! the hatred, tyranny, and cruel war,
Persecution and oppression, that have left you as you are!
I myself once also prosper’d; — mine is, too, an alter’d plight;
Trouble, care, and age have left me good for nought but grief to-night.

Gone my motion and my vigour — gone the use of eye and ear,
At my feet lie friends and children, powerless and corrupting here;
Woe is written on my visage, in a nut my heart could lie —
Death’s deliverance were welcome — Father, let the old man die.


Translation by Sir Samuel Ferguson of the Irish poem Machtnamh an Duine Dhoilghíosaigh (‘The Melancholy Mortal’s Reflections’) or, Caoineadh ar Mhainistir Thigh Molaige (‘Lament Over the Monastery House of Molaga’) by Seághan Ó CoileáinPictures of the 15th century Franciscan friary known as Moor Abbey, County Tipperary. 

 

A Picturesque Feature in the Landscape


Seemingly there are some 100 places around the world called Newcastle, six of them located in Ireland (one of these, in County Meath, is a couple of miles away from the more substantial settlement of Oldcastle). Newcastle, County Tipperary is one of the smaller holders of the name, being a small village seemingly of little note. But it contains two substantial mediaeval ruins, one being a large 12th/13th century church and the other the castle from which Newcastle takes its name. 




The ‘new’ castle in County Tipperary presumably replaced an older one, but there does not appear to be any information about the latter. What remains can be seen close to the banks of the river Suir, the navigable possibilities of which was one reason for the choice of this site. The castle is believed to have been built for the Prendergast family, the first of whom Maurice de Prendergast, was among the Cambro-Norman knights who accompanied Richard de Clare (otherwise known as Strongbow) to Ireland and then settled here.  Around 1230 his grandson, William de Prendergast exchanged lands he had inherited in what is now County Limerick with Jeffrey de Marisco for those in this part of Tipperary. There may already have been some kind of castle already erected but the ruins seen today were certainly enhanced and enlarged by the Prendergasts who remained in occupation until the mid-17th century. In the aftermath of the Confederate Wars, Edmond Prendergast’s estates were taken from him by the Cromwellian government and the link with Newcastle broken. Edmond Prendergast’s grandson, Sir Thomas Prendergast, who grew up in poverty, led an extraordinarily adventurous life. Having fought in the service of James II, he allied himself to William III after the Treaty of Limerick. A Roman Catholic, he was involved in a Jacobite plot to kill the king, but then switched sides and provided evidence that helped to convict many of his former fellow-plotters. He then seems to have conformed to the Established Church and was rewarded with lands around Gort,  County Galway that provided an annual income of £500. Created a baronet in 1699, he acted as MP for Monaghan borough, 1703-09 while also serving in the army, rising to the rank of brigadier-general in February 1709. However, the following September he was killed at the Battle of Malplaquet.




The castle at Newcastle consists of a number of buildings enclosed within what remains of a bawn wall; among the more notable extant structures is a large vaulted hall and a circular tower, both relatively intact although much of the rest of the property is in poor condition. Quite when the castle was abandoned is unclear. One suggestion is that it was badly damaged in the late 1640s/early 1650s at a time when the Prendergasts were displaced. But the ruin of so many buildings in Ireland is attributed to Cromwellian forces that it is hard to know whether or not such was the case in this instance. Whatever the truth, the lands on which it stands were eventually granted to the Perry family, whose main residence from the early 18th century onwards was some ten miles north at Woodrooff, County Tipperary. In 1837 Samuel Lewis wrote that the old castle ‘forms a very picturesque feature in the landscape.’ Such remains the case today. 

Accentuate the Positive




For a great many people, 2023 has not been an easy year, so let’s end it by accentuating the positive, at least as far as Ireland’s architectural heritage is concerned. Here are six good news stories featured here over the past twelve months, the first three private initiatives, the second involving properties in public ownership. In County Offaly, a young couple are pluckily taking on the restoration of Cangort Park, a handsome early 19th century villa designed by Richard Morrison (see: A Work in Progress « The Irish Aesthete). Likewise, the owner of Barntick, thought to be the oldest continuously inhabited house in County Clare, has embarked on ensuring the building has a viable future (see: Of Very Considerable Importance « The Irish Aesthete). And in County Roscommon, another young couple are gradually working hard to turn Edmondstown into both a family home and a viable business (see: Another Cheering Story « The Irish Aesthete).
On the public front, the Office of Public Works continues to make improvements at the Ormond Castle in County Tipperary, a building distinguished by its elaborately plastered 16th century Long Gallery (see: All that is Fantastically Eccentric in Architecture « The Irish Aesthete). In County Wicklow, Coillte (an organisation with which the Irish Aesthete often finds fault) reopened Avondale after an extensive restoration of the house (see: In the Highest Perfection « The Irish Aesthete). And in September it was announced that the Irish state had bought Dowth Hall and its surrounding 550 acres in order to establish a new national park: fingers crossed that essential work is speedily undertaken on the house (with its ravishing rococo stuccowork) at the centre of this estate (see: Second Time Around « The Irish Aesthete).
Occasionally, there is good news to report:: let us all pray much more of it will be forthcoming in 2024.



The Protected Structure


Anyone who travels about Ireland cannot fail to notice the sheer number of vacant buildings which have been left to fall into dereliction and which are intermittently the subject of attention on this site. Sadly, such is the case with today’s property, Kilheffernan Cottage, County Tipperary. 





This is a curious building in three parts and the challenge for anyone looking at the place is working out dates of construction for each member of the trio. To the left (westerly) is a two storey, three bay house with two deep windows, six over six panes, on the ground floor and a blank wall between them; marks on the exterior render suggest that there was once a door here providing access to the house. The building to the right (east) now has a steeply pitched corrugated iron roof but, it is proposed in buildingsofireland.ie, was originally thatched. Four pretty glazed doors with decorative overlights open to a large single room which, in turn, leads into the little link building, an entrance hall with coved ceiling and glazed porch to the front. As for the largest of the buildings, the ground floor contains two reception rooms as well as a kitchen and ancillary rooms to the rear. The most notable feature is the wooden spiral staircase that snakes up to the first floor bedrooms and bathrooms. Unfortunately, having been neglected for a long period, slates have been lost from the roof and the interior has suffered severe damage from water ingress; regrettably, all the chimneypieces have also been removed. There is a range of outbuildings to the rear of the property. 





Tracing the history of Kilheffernan Cottage is something of a challenge. At least some of it must date from the 18th century. According to landedestates.ie, a Thomas Ryan, whose family had been resident in the area since the early 1700s, was proprietor of the place in 1814. Samuel Lewis likewise lists T. Ryan as being there in 1837 and by the time of Griffith’s Valuation a couple of decades later, Patrick Fennelly held the house – valued at £10 and 13 shillings – from Thomas Ryan. In 1922 the historian Maurice O’Connell, a descendant of Daniel O’Connell, was born at Kilheffernan Cottage where his parents were then living. In 2005, the year of Maurice O’Connell’s death, the place was offered for sale with 15 acres. Since then, it would appear to have sat empty and allowed to fall into its present condition. Inevitably, the house is included on the local authority’s list of protected structures. 

A Dominant Presence




After Monday’s post about the Damer House, here is the medieval castle inside the walls of which that building stands. Roscrea Castle, County Tipperary originally dates from 1213 when King John ordered that a defensive structure be erected here as part of the Norman conquest of the Irish midlands. Work did not begin on the site for a few more decades, until the reign of Henry III, perhaps because the land had been owned by the Bishop of Killaloe who threatened to excommunicate those responsible for the castle (the bishop was duly pacified with the offer of other land). While first made of wood, the stone castle, with motte and bailey, was of stone. In 1315 the building was granted to the powerful Butler family who held it until the early 18th century when the property was sold by the Duke of Ormonde to the Royal Hospital Kilmainham; that institution in turn sold it on to John Damer, responsible for commissioning the house that still stands in the middle of the grounds. As for the castle itself, once moated with the river Bunnow running along one side, it comprises a 40-metre wide courtyard with three-quarter round towers on the south-east and south-west sides and, to the north, the main building, a gatehouse 27 metres high which was built by the Butlers in the 15th century. When the Irish Aesthete lived here 40 years ago, the property, although a dominant presence in the town, was largely in ruins and certainly not accessible without risk to life and limb: it has since been extensively restored and is now open to visitors who can marvel at the groin vaulted ceiling of the former great hall. 



A Double Anniversary



This month marks two anniversaries, one of which is that the Irish Aesthete now turns eleven, having made his first appearance on the internet in September 2012. But the month also commemorates an older anniversary: the fortieth anniversary of the Irish Aesthete’s first job, as resident curator of the Damer House in Roscrea, County Tipperary.* The house has a complex history, made more so by the fact that it was constructed within the walls of a 13th century castle around which grew the town of Roscrea. As its name indicates, the building was commissioned by a member of the Damer family, the first of whom Joseph Damer, moved from Dorset to Ireland and here grew wealthy as a banker and moneylender. Having no heirs, he left his money to a nephew, John Damer, who in 1722 bought Roscrea from the Royal Hospital, Kilmainham (that institution had, in turn, bought the town from the Butler family in 1703). 





There may have been an older residence on or near the site of the present Damer House which, despite often being called ‘Queen Anne’ in style, likely dates from the 1730s (in other words, during the reign of George II). Of three storeys over basement and with unusually tall narrow windows spread across nine bays, the pre-Palladian house’s finest internal feature is a carved pine staircase, in style not dissimilar to that of the slightly later Cashel Palace. Of course, provincial architecture was often out of step with the latest fashion, which would help to explain the building’s somewhat outdated style. In addition, by the time it was built, wealthy families had largely given up living in regional towns, preferring to reside on their country estates. That would appear to have been the case with the Damers who around the same time as the Damer House was being built, also embarked on the construction of another residence, Damer Court, which stood on land they owned to the west of Tipperary town; although nothing remains of this building – by the mid-19th century it was described as ‘a shell of a building’ – but a townland in the area is called Damerville.  As for the Damer House, it does not appear to have served as a residence for the family but was rented out to a succession of tenants for much of the 18th century. In 1798 the house was leased as a barracks and then the whole site sold to the British military in 1858. At the start of the last century the Damer House became ‘Mr. French’s Academy’, a school for boys, reverting to a barracks for the National Army during the Civil War, then being used as a sanatorium, before once again in 1932 serving as a school until 1956, then a library. By 1970 it was empty and unused, and the local authority, Tipperary County Council, announced plans to demolish the house and replace it with an amenity centre comprising a swimming pool, car park, playground and civic centre (it had been nurturing this scheme since as far back as 1957). The council’s chairman wanted the demolition to go ahead, declaring that ‘as long as it stands it reminds the Irish people of their enslavement to British rule,’ and dismissing objectors to the scheme as ‘a crowd of local cranks.’ In fact, most of the so-called ‘crowd’ were members of the Old Roscrea Society and in December 1970 this organisation was offered help by the Irish Georgian Society in the campaign to save the Damer House.





In 1971 the local council agreed not to demolish the Damer House. On the other hand, it did nothing to preserve the building and in November 1973, on learning that restoration would cost in the region of £40,000, the authority decided to go ahead with demolition after all. The Irish Georgian Society once more intervened, this time proposing it take on a lease for the building and assume responsibility for its restoration, now budgeted at £80,000 over five years. In February 1974 the council agreed to this arrangement and the Society took on the house for a period of 99 years at an annual rent of one shilling. The restoration of the Damer House was to be its contribution to European Architectural Heritage Year 1975. Work on the project began in mid-August 1974 and was overseen by the late Brian Molloy. The place was in terrible condition, debris and rubbish throughout, the basement full of water, every window broken, the staircase shrouded and boxed in. While professionals worked on repairing the roof, the workforce included a dozen architectural students from Dublin and members of the Old Roscrea Society. Volunteers were advised to turn up at the site ‘in old clothes, bringing brushes, buckets and handy tools.’ Work proceeded slowly and was dependent on enough funds being raised for the purpose, some £5,400 being spent on repairs in 1974 and at least the same again the following year. In 1976 £8,000 was required to repair the staircase, including the replacement of missing balustrades and the removal of sixteen pounds in weight of paint from the carved frieze. By June 1977 £22,000 had been spent on the Damer House which was now deemed ready to admit visitors and host exhibitions. Thereafter, while refurbishment continued on both the Damer House and its slightly later annexe, the venue was regularly used for events such as touring exhibitions organised by the Arts Council. In 1980 some of the most influential members of the Old Roscrea Society, notably local teacher George Cunningham, decided to form a new organisation, the Roscrea Heritage Society which later that year organised a large show in the Damer House. Exhibits relevant to the town’s history were lent by both the National Museum and the National Gallery. With aid from a number of public bodies, the house’s annexe was next restored for use as a heritage centre; the first of its kind in Ireland, this opened to the public in 1983 and shortly afterwards won a special award from the adjudicators of European Museum of the Year. In the autumn of 1983, control of the Damer House was handed over to the Roscrea Heritage Society (and that was when the Irish Aesthete arrived to take up residence in the place). Now under the authority of the Office of Public Works, the Damer House – which was recently subject to further restoration of the exterior stonework and windows – is open to the public, along with the surrounding castle and adjacent gardens. Once scheduled for demolition, the Damer House is today regarded as a major architectural and tourist asset for the midlands region of Ireland.



*For those interested, the Irish Aesthete lived in rooms on the right-hand side of the building’s first-floor (and yes, they were very cold).