Respected and Lamented by All Who Knew Him

Apr30

In the rarely opened south transept of Cloyne Cathedral, County Cork the end wall is dominated by this splendid early 18th century monument to members of the Longfield family, the first listed John Longfield having acquired a nearby estate and named it Castle Mary, perhaps in honour of his heiress wife, Mary Hawnby of Mallow. Successive generations are listed, the first (and last) Viscount Longueville being the grandson of John and Mary Longfield: note how the word ‘respected’ had to be tucked into the available space. On Lord Longueville’s his death without an heir, Castle Mary was inherited by a cousin, Colonel Mountifort Longfield. The house was burnt by the IRA in 1920, so this is now the best-preserved memorial to the family.

After the Earl-Bishop

Apr27

The fondness of Frederick Augustus Hervey, Bishop of Derry and Earl of Bristol for building projects has been discussed here more than once, and attention paid to that on which he embarked around 1787/88 at Ballyscullion (see Let the Door be Instantly Open, For There is Much Wealth Within…, March 31st 2014). Within ten years of the Earl-Bishop’s death in 1803 the property here had already fallen into decay, with significant portions of its structure removed for re-use elsewhere. The estate was inherited by a kinsman, the Rev. Sir Henry Hervey Bruce and in 1840 Charles Lanyon designed a handsome new residence for his son, Admiral Sir Henry Bruce (who at the age of 13 had fought at the Battle of Trafalgar and went on to command the British fleet in the Pacific). Above and below are views of the garden front, entirely stuccoed except for the sandstone Doric columns flanking the tripartite window providing access to the drawing room: these are in the same material and style as the entrance porch on the other side of the house. Ballyscullion Park remained in the possession of the Bruce family until sold in 1938 to the Hon. Sir Harry Mulholland, first Speaker of the Northern Ireland Parliament at Stormont: it is now cared for by Sir Harry’s grandson Richard and his wife Rosalind.

Opportunity Knocks

Apr25

Opportunism and those who practise it are not, as a rule, judged very favorably. Yet there are times when our verdict on opportunists can be inaccurate or imperceptive. Much of Georgian Dublin is a manifestation of opportunism at work: the result of a handful of perspicacious developers – another now-detested term – recognising an opportunity and responding to it. This was certainly the case with the first Luke Gardiner who piecemeal built up landholdings on the northside of the city and there created new streets and terraces to meet growing demand for residential property. Gardiner’s first venture in this arena, and the basis of his future success, was the development from the late 1720s onward of Henrietta Street.

Luke Gardiner was a man of modest origins, far removed at the start of his professional life from the wealth he would come to enjoy. Much the same could be said of his protégé Nathaniel Clements who, although enjoying somewhat less humble beginnings, was the youngest of five sons and very much expected to make his own way. This he did, like Gardiner, by building houses and then selling them on: the parallels between the past and the present can sometimes be discomfiting. Henrietta Street was also Clements’ first venture into property development, as he took on several sites from Gardiner. One of these was number 4 (originally 5) Henrietta Street which he completed around 1740-41 and sold to George Stone, then Bishop of Ferns. Stone occupied the building but did not finish paying for it, until 1747 when he was appointed Archbishop of Armagh and, in turn, opportunistically moved into a still-grander residence on the street before selling No.4. Its second owner was John Maxwell, MP for County Cavan who nine years later would be created first Lord Farnham. Of Scottish ancestry, Maxwell was the descendant of three generations of clerical opportunists: the Farnham estate in County Cavan had originally been purchased by his grandfather, the Anglican Bishop of Kilmore and Ardagh. When John Maxwell acquired No.4 Henrietta Street, it came with a plot of land to the immediate east, perhaps serving as a garden. In 1754 Maxwell’s only daughter married another MP, Owen Wynne of Sligo, likewise the descendant of opportunists, although in this instance they had been army men. Around the time of his marriage the plot next to No.4 passed into Wynne’s hands and a house was built here. Today it is No.3 Henrietta Street.

There are unanswered questions remaining about the history of 3 Henrietta Street, not least who was responsible for its design. The house is sometimes attributed to Nathaniel Clements because like its neighbour – which he almost certainly did build – there is a semi-circular bow at the back of the building. On the other hand, by the time of No.3’s construction, Clements had moved on to other projects and, more critically, he and Maxwell were political opponents, so it seems unlikely his assistance would have been sought here. Perhaps when Wynne embarked on the enterprise he decided to copy some features of his father-in-law’s adjacent residence. The interior shows alterations believed to date from 1830. Originally the entrance hall – like other houses on this side of the street – would have been of two storeys with the stairs visibly rising to the first floor. In the 19th century this staircase was taken out and a smaller one inserted, divided by a wall from the front of the house with the new entrance hall made just one storey high. But the first floor reception rooms retain much of their original decoration, the pair to the front of the room having a deep frieze with strapwork and festoons, while below the walls are sectioned by plaster panelling. To the rear at this level is a wonderful room with rococo stuccowork in the coved ceiling which extends into the bow, and gives the space a more intimate character than any of the others possess.

As already mentioned, in the 19th century 3 Henrietta Street, like almost all other houses in the vicinity, underwent changes both of design and usage. The advent of the King’s Inns at the top of the street, and the gradual departure of private owners in the aftermath of the 1800 Act of Union meant many of the buildings came to be used as solicitors’ offices: in the decades leading up to his death in 1885 some three-quarters of the street were bought by the lawyer Tristram Kennedy and let to other members of his profession. However, his property portfolio was subsequently acquired by another – altogether less attractive – opportunist, former Dublin Lord Mayor Joseph Meade. Seeing a chance to get a good return on his investment, notoriously he converted most of the houses into tenements. The original interior spaces were divided to fit in more rooms for entire families to occupy and valuable items such as chimney pieces were stripped out and sold off. This was the fate of 3 Henrietta Street for a large portion of the last century, and evidence of its decline, as much as of its glory, can still be seen in the building. But the house is now on the market, and awaits a new owner who can offer it a viable future. What will happen next? As has been the case here over the past two and a half centuries, opportunity knocks – and 3 Henrietta Street once more awaits the advent of an opportunist.

Living in Eternity’s Sunrise

Apr18

He who bends to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy

But he who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sunrise.

Eternity by William Blake.
Photographs taken in the County Cork home of Ken and Rachel Thompson.

Big House, Little House

Apr16

A little house in the yard of the big house at Bovagh, County Derry. This thunderbox* is rather unusual, since not only does it contain two compartments with a dividing wall between them, but each chamber held a pair of adjacent seats, thereby allowing dual occupation (and as can be seen above, a communal chute dropped waste into the same hole). Below is a photograph showing the view enjoyed by users through the thunderbox’s gothic windows.
Dating from the mid-18th century Bovagh was originally a Beresford house, most likely built as an agent’s residence. It will be one of the properties discussed by Daniel Calley next Tuesday evening, 19th April in his talk ‘John Beresford “the king of Ireland” and some Beresford Family Houses’ at the RSAI, 63 Merrion Square, Dublin. For more information, see https://www.igs.ie/events/detail/john-beresford-the-king-of-ireland-and-some-beresford-family-houses.

*For those unfamiliar with the term, a thunderbox is an outdoor latrine once commonly found in country house yards.

An Echo of Lost Grandeur

Apr13

Now providing access to Dolly’s Grove, County Meath, this limestone triumphal arch seemingly once stood at the entrance to Summerhill in the same county. Among Ireland’s very finest country houses Summerhill was built in the 1730s but is no more, having been burnt in February 1922, after which its dramatic shell survived another thirty-five years before being demolished (for more on the house, see My Name is Ozymandias, April 1st 2013). Summerhill’s design has traditionally been attributed to Sir Edward Lovett Pearce and some of his stylistic tics, such as blind niches and oculi, can be seen here in the Dolly’s Grove arch suggesting the architect was responsible for this piece of work also.

Craic des Chevaliers

Apr11

Pottering about the back lanes of County Louth, one’s attention is suddenly arrested by a limestone outcrop on which are the remains of a once-substantial fortification. This is Castle Roche, the name of which suggests that it was built by a northerly branch of the Roche family members of which are mostly found in Counties Wexford and Cork. Actually the origin of the castle’s title is more complex, as is the history of its construction. The building is believed to date from the 13th century and to have been erected by the Anglo-Norman de Verduns. An ancestor, Bertram de Verdun had come to England in 1066 as a retainer of Count Robert of Mortain, one of William the Conqueror’s principal commanders at the Battle of Hastings. His grandson, another Bertram, was appointed seneschal for the visit of Henry II to Ireland in 1171 and this was the beginning of the de Verduns’ association with this country. Bertram would die at Jaffa in 1192 while participating in the Third Crusade, but his son Nicholas inherited the family estates and especially after marrying Joan Fitz-Piers who likewise came into land in Ireland he spent much of his time here. The couple had a daughter, Rohesia de Verdun, and she is traditionally credited with building Castle Roche.

Rohesia de Verdun was a considerable heiress, so it is not surprising that she should have become linked to another important Anglo-Norman family in Ireland, in 1225 marrying as his second wife Theobold le Boteler, a forebear of the Butler family. However by this time she already had a son, John de Verdun, perhaps the offspring of an illicit marriage or affair. It was John de Verdun, and not the children of Rohesia’s marriage to Theobold le Boteler, who would eventually inherit his mother’s Irish estates. In the meantime, she had become a widow, her husband dying in 1230 during an expedition to Gascony. Six years later, she is said to have undertaken the construction of a mighty fortress on her lands in what is now County Louth. Its name, Castle Roche, derives from a corruption of her own, Rohesia. It is likely that John de Verdun added much to the work his mother had begun, not least because in 1242 she founded the Augustinian Priory of Gracedieu near Thringstone in Leicestershire. This house is believed to have been the only one of its kind in England and, in line with the independent character of its founder, the nuns were independent of outside control. Rohesia died there five years after establishing the house. A persistent legend about Castle Roche may explain why she decided to become a member of a religious community. Although the Magna Carta enshrined in law that no widow could be compelled to remarry, it was not unusual for the crown to insist on such unions for various political and fiscal reasons. If she had taken another husband, Rohesia would have weakened the likelihood of her son John inheriting the family estates intact. It is said that she declared her intention only to marry the man who could build a castle to her satisfaction. Someone duly did so, but on their wedding night, as he showed his new bride the spectacular view from a window on the west side, she pushed him through it. Thereafter at Castle Roche it was known as the Murder Window.

Built on the edge of a steep cliff, the plan of Castle Roche is almost triangular, this unusual form being dictated by the nature of the site. Rock formations provide protection to east, west, north and south so that the only access to the building lies on its easterly side. This was controlled by a bailey separated from the castle by a rock cut ditch. Entry to the castle was gained through the bailey, across a bridge over the ditch and through an arched gateway between two bastion towers. Like the battlemented curtain walls, these towers feature a series of slits through which arrows could be fired at the approaching enemy. Inside, the remains of a two-storey great hall can be found in the south-east corner, but otherwise little survives of any permanent structure as this was predominantly a walled enclosure. Castle Roche survived for several centuries. A meeting of all the English forces in Ireland took place here in 1561 but the building was devastated eighty years later during the Confederate Wars and has remained a ruin ever since. Given its dramatic position and relatively decent state of preservation, Castle Roche seems surprisingly little known. Last year the state tourist board launched an initiative called Ireland’s Ancient East designed to encourage more visitors to this part of the country. Castle Roche ought to feature in proposed itineraries but doesn’t. A missed opportunity – but at least those of us who come across the place can be confident of having it to ourselves.

Entombed

Apr9

The town walls of Cashel, County Tipperary were first built under a Charter of Murnage received from Edward II around 1319-24. Originally incorporating at least five gates and enclosing an area of some twenty-eight acres, a surprising extent of these mediaeval defences survive, not least around the boundary of the graveyard of St John’s Cathedral: this marks the south-east perimeter of the old town. Inserted into the walls are four thirteenth-century tomb slabs believed to represent Sir William Hackett, his wife and two other family members: these came from the site of the nearby Franciscan friary established c.1265 thanks to a bequest by Hackett and were later moved here for safe keeping.

Crowning Glory

Apr6

One of the doors on the north façade of the Market House in Athy, County Kildare. This building is often said to date from the 1730s or early 1740s but may be slightly later since it seems to have been one of the improvements to the town undertaken by its then-owner James FitzGerald, 20th Earl of Kildare (and created first Duke of Leinster in 1766) who only succeeded to his title and family estates, in 1744. Moreover the Market House occupies one end of Emily Square, named after his wife, Lady Emily Lennox, who he married in 1747. As was so often the case, the building had more than one purpose since it also served as courthouse, hence the carved plaque above the door which shows the British crown occupying a position between the scales of justice and resting on a base containing a pike and a sword. Its pair above another door on the same side of the building features a similar design but this time the centre is filled with the harp of Ireland and without any weaponry. Sold by the FitzGeralds to Kildare County Council in 1975 for £9,000, the old Market House is now Athy’s Heritage Centre and Museum.

A Vision Realised

Apr4

The second half of the 19th century witnessed a frenzy of church building in Ireland. In Cobh, County Cork for example, the construction of a vast new cathedral designed by Edward Pugin and George Ashlin began in 1867. That building, like the majority of others, was commissioned by the Roman Catholic church intent in the aftermath of penal reform to make its mark across the country. By contrast the Anglican Church of Ireland, which until around 1830 had engaged in a similar ferment of church building, primarily (although not exclusively) funded by the Board of First Fruits, was now in retreat. The Irish Church Act of 1869 (it came into force two years later) broke a long-standing link between the Anglican church and the state, and repealed legislation requiring all citizens to pay tithes to the Church of Ireland. As a result, the Church of Ireland’s ability to engage in construction or even restoration of property severely contracted. All the more interesting therefore to see that not far from Cobh and during the same decade as work on its cathedral began a similarly ambitious project was initiated by the Irish Anglican community: the rebuilding of St Fin Barre’s Cathedral in the centre of Cork city. The site on which it stands is believed to have been a place of worship since a monastery was founded here in the seventh century and named after the local patron saint Fionnbarr (meaning ‘fair headed’). The city of Cork grew up around this religious settlement and in turn the monastic church became the city’s cathedral. This mediaeval structure was damaged during the Siege of Cork in 1690 and largely replaced in the following century: the most important extant feature of that much earlier building is the Dean’s Gate: now inserted into the southern boundary of the Cathedral grounds’ wall it was originally an archway in the west portico of the bell tower.

Only a couple of photographs taken shortly before its demolition give an idea of the appearance of Cork’s 18th century cathedral. Other than retaining the ancient tower at the west end, it looks to have been not unlike places of worship erected elsewhere in Ireland during the same era, such as the Anglican cathedrals then built in Cashel, County Tipperary and Waterford city. Commentators today, perhaps dazzled by its successor, tend to be unfairly disparaging about the old St Fin Barre’s since it probably had ample architectural merit, given some of the cultural pedigree of the bishops involved. Richard Caulfield’s Annals of St Fin Barre’s published in 1871 gathered together all source material on the building’s history and reported that in November 1733 ‘Whereas it appears to the Dean and Chapter that the Cathedral is in very bad repair, and in great danger of falling, & that an application be made to the Bishop by the Dean, Archdeacon, and Oeconomus [the bursar], that his Lordship would be pleased to give his advice about pulling down and re-building same Cathedral…and that the Dean, &c., should indemnify the Bishop.’ In September of the following year ‘The Cathedral was ordered to be taken down, the Oeconomus to employ workmen, and the Bishop to be requested to direct such a plan as he may think proper.’ Soon afterwards Robert Clayton was appointed bishop of the diocese and it was during his term, and that of his successor, that the new cathedral was built. Clayton, who would later have troubles over his religious beliefs (at the time of his death in 1758 he was facing charges of heresy having publicly espoused the doctrines of Arianism), was a man of considerable taste: his splendid Dublin townhouse on the south side of St Stephen’s Green was designed for him in the mid-1730s by Richard Castle (it is now part of Iveagh House). One therefore imagines that the cathedral works over which he presided in Cork would have displayed equal taste, even if in this instance we do not know who was the architect responsible. Yet work on the new St Fin Barre’s proceeded slowly, in part due to shortage of funds. In March 1737, for example, it was noted ‘The Dean and Archdeacon to wait on the Bishop to represent the state of the Cathedral, that all their money has been expended, and to seek his Lordship’s advice’ and later that same year, ‘The Dean and Chapter, not having sufficient means to finish the Cathedral, make a lease to John Supple of the great and small tytles of the Oeconomy of the Cathedral, for four years, at a yearly rent of £108 15s.; and as it would greatly retard the finishing of the Church if the Dean and Chapter were to wait till the rents became payable, &c., John Supple has advanced the four years’ rent in the whole sum of £435.’ Ultimately it appears the job had still not been finished by the time Clayton moved on to the diocese of Clogher in 1745, his place being taken by a local cleric, Jemmett Browne. He was likewise interested in architecture, reconfiguring his family house outside the city at Riverstown where the Ticinese sibling stuccodores Paolo and Filippo Lafranchini are credited with decorating the interior. A photograph of the chancel arch of 18th century St Fin Barre’s shows its walls to have been covered in elaborate rococo plasterwork on either side of a large Venetian window and this has been attributed by Joseph McDonnell to the same Lafranchini brothers. All of which suggests that the cathedral must have had a rather fine interior.

Time passes and tastes change, and the following century it was again resolved to demolish St Fin Barre’s. One suspects that this decision, officially taken in 1862, was due to the arrival that same year of a new bishop, John Gregg, appointed to the position on the recommendation of his admirer and then Lord Lieutenant, the seventh Earl of Carlisle. Evidently keen to leave a mark on his diocese, the strong-minded Gregg declared that the building he had inherited ought to be taken down and replaced with ‘a structure more worthy of the name, Cork Cathedral.’ One suspects the existing St Fin Barre’s was rather too secular in style to suit the Gregg’s brand of evangelical Christianity. Accordingly an international competition was held for an architect to design a new cathedral. This attracted sixty-eight entrants, William Burges being declared the winner, even though – as some of the losers pointed out – his proposal excluded from the prescribed budget of £15,000 the monies needed to build towers, spire and sculpture. The eventual cost would climb to more than £100,000 (on the other hand, reverting back to the Roman Catholic cathedral in Cobh, its original construction budget of £25,000 overran to a final total of £235,000). Moreover Burges declared himself ‘unconcerned’ over any difference between intended and ultimate cost of building his vision. In the future, he informed Bishop Gregg, ‘the elements of time and cost being forgotten, the result only will be looked at. The great questions will then be, first, is this work beautiful and, secondly, have those to whom it was entrusted, done it with all their heart and all their ability.’ These sentiments were not perhaps altogether appreciated by the people of Cork who, in the aftermath of the Church of Ireland’s disestablishment, had to find the funds for St Fin Barre’s. But Burges’ background explains his own indifference to budgetary matters: born in London in 1827, he inherited a fortune from his engineer father and therefore never had to worry about earning a living. After years of travel and working in the offices of both Edward Blore and Matthew Digby Wyatt, he set up his own practice in 1856. Thereafter despite providing designs for various competitions he was aged thirty-five before he finally won his first major commission: St Fin Barre’s. His proposal involved the total demolition of the building then on the site, including the mediaeval west tower, because Burges was an architectural ideologue whose preferred style – Early French Gothic – trumped all others: ‘I was brought up in the thirteenth century belief,’ he once wrote, ‘and in that belief I intend to die.’ No qualms here about clearing away anything that might impede the execution of his vision.

Both Burges and Bishop Gregg died before work on St Fin Barre’s had been completed, the former in 1881, the latter three years earlier but since he was succeeded in the diocese by his son Robert Gregg, the work continued seamlessly. Thus the cathedral as we see it today is essentially the expression of these two men’s aesthetic and religious beliefs: Burges’ intentions are understood but the importance of Gregg in the development of St Fin Barre’s has been less discussed. It is not difficult to understand why this should be the case, as Burges – who in today’s parlance might be reckoned a control freak – was responsible for the design of every part of the building: nothing was permitted to escape his attention and approval. He drew the designs for all of St Fin Barre’s sculptures inside and out, for the majority of its seventy-four stained glass windows, the mosaic pavement in the chancel, the pulpit, altar and bishop’s throne. An indication of his personal commitment was Burges’ gift of the Resurrection Angel made of copper covered in gold leaf that crowns the sanctuary roof at the east end. Given how elaborate the decorative scheme is, and the increasing demands of his work schedule elsewhere notably with the third Marquess of Bute in Cardiff, no wonder Burges died at the age of 53. Although the cathedral is relatively small (it was intended to hold a congregation of 700 souls, no more than the average for a London parish), it is smothered in embellishment. The exterior is built of Cork limestone, the interior of Bath stone and the walls are lined with red Cork marble. As was the case with mediaeval cathedrals, internally and externally St Fin Barre’s is intended to be ‘read’ by the faithful as the building narrates the story of Christianity. For example, the west rose window illustrates the story of creation according to the book of Genesis, while the windows on either side of the nave feature tales from the Old Testament. Those in the ambulatory deal with the life of Christ. While the cathedral was consecrated in 1870, its decorative work in accordance with Burges’ intentions was only finished in the mid-1930s. In this respect, it bears similarities with the slow construction of such buildings in the Middle Ages, and indeed with that of its 18th century predecessor. Today St Fin Barre’s is rightly admired as one of the finest and most complete expressions of Gothic Revival architecture in these islands. It also represents a final flourish on the part of the Anglican church in Ireland before the onset of a long decline.

The photograph above is a detail of a half-scale plaster model of a sculpture above the rose window on the inside of St Fin Barre’s. Depicting an architect at work, it is believed to represent William Burges.

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