Tag Archives: Dublin

A Most Singular Act of Architectural Vandalism



After last month’s post about the Museum Building in Trinity College Dublin (see A Remarkable Building « The Irish Aesthete), here is another property designed by the same architectural team of Deane & Woodward. Dating from 1859-61, the former Kildare Street Club replaced a number of other buildings on the same site. The club was founded in 1782, when William Burton Conyngham (1733–96), having been blackballed by Daly’s Club in Dame Street, established a rival organisation at 6 Kildare Street. By the middle of the following century, and although the club had taken on adjacent premises, the members felt the need for further expansion and therefore commissioned Deane & Woodward to come up with an entirely fresh scheme. Unlike the typical London clubhouse, which was inclined to be designed in the style of a classical Italianate palazzo, the Kildare Street Club is more Italo-Byzantine in manner, the red brick facade relieved by large window openings and abundant use of grey and white stone. The grand interior had a double-height staircase hall, and equally capacious reception rooms, as well as a racquet court with dressing rooms, smaller games rooms and, in the attic storey, members’ bedrooms. 



In what Professor Christine Casey has rightly described as ‘the most singular act of architectural vandalism in recent Dublin history’ (although this title could be keenly contested), the interior of the Kildare Street Club was ruthlessly gutted in 1971, after its members had moved out of the premises prior to joining forces with another club. Thereafter a development company applied to convert the building into offices, and received permission from the local authority to do so. While certain features remain in situ, such as some of the chimneypieces and cornicing, the rooms today bear little resemblance to their original state. The exterior, on the other hand, still looks much as it always did, and includes a series of densely carved columnar capitals and bases, the work here attributed to the Cork-born O’Shea brothers, as well as Charles Harrison and Charles William Purdy: one of the bases famously represents a number of monkeys engaged in a game of billiards. Today the former club houses both the Alliance française and the manuscripts department of the National Library of Ireland.



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A Remarkable Building



Lecturing at the recently established Royal College of Science in Dublin in 1868, John Ruskin declared that one of the chief reasons for his accepting an invitation to do so was that it allowed him ‘to stand near the beautiful building…which was the first realization I had the joy to see of the principles I had, until then, been endeavouring to teach.’ The edifice to which Ruskin referred is Trinity College Dublin’s Museum Building, now a venerable 170 years old but judged a radical instance of new design when first constructed. Writing in The Irish Builder in May 1866, Sir Thomas Drew declared it to be ‘a great work, most important in its influence on the arts in this country . . . To this remarkable building and to this alone we trace the inauguration of the great revolution in public taste which has since taken place.’ Even while still a work in progress, the Museum Building was exciting comment, William Allingham writing in May 1855, to William Michael Rossetti (brother of Dante Gabriel), ‘Yesterday in Dublin I saw but hastily the part-finished building in Trinity College, which is after Ruskin’s heart. Style early Venetian, I suppose, with numberless capitals delicately carved over with holly-leaves, shamrocks, various flowers, birds and so on. There are also circular frames here and there in the wall, at present empty, to be filled no doubt with eyes of coloured stone. Ruskin has written to the architect, a young man, expressing his high approval of the plans; so by-and-by all you cognoscenti will be rushing over to examine the Stones of Dublin.’ The origins of the building went back a couple of decades before its construction. In 1833 the college’s board launched a competition for the design of a museum to house  the geological and other collections which until then had been kept in a room in Regent House, the large block through which most visitors enter the campus. A number of architects submitted proposals, while others – not least Decimus Burton – declined invitations to do so. Eventually, in April 1853, a scheme from the firm of Deane, Woodward and Deane was accepted (although John McCurdy, who was the official college architect, insisted on taking credit for the original floor plans).  




The firm of Deane, Woodward and Deane – or more correctly ‘Sir Thomas Deane Knt., Son and Woodward’ – was founded in Cork in 1851 when the aforementioned Sir Thomas Deane took his son Thomas Newenham Deane and the Dublin-based architect Benjamin Woodward into partnership. Two years later the firm won the job of designing Trinity College’s Museum Building and in consequence it opened an office in the capital which thereafter became more important than that in Cork. Further commissions soon followed, not least for the Oxford Museum which, like that in Trinity College Dublin, is indebted to the Venetian Gothic style championed by John Ruskin. In the case of Trinity College, the exterior of the building is relatively plain, faced in blocks of Wicklow granite and broken by sequences of arched windows, those looking over College Park centred on sets of four, one above the over, the upper group also being given a balcony. The pilasters, capitals, voussoirs and soffits are all of Portland Stone, as are the sequence of roundels filled with coloured marbles. In every case, these features benefit from elaborate and individual design (notice, for example, how no two pilaster capitals are the same), exquisite carving work executed by a ‘Mr Roe’ of Lambeth and Cork-born brothers John and James O’Shea, also known for their playful capitals on the facade of the  former Kildare Street Club visible on the other side of College Park. Flanked by arched windows and beneath another balcony, the main entrance to the building has a tympanum of Caen Stone bearing the college crest.  Costing £12,768, three shillings and seven pence, the exterior dressings of the Museum Building were responsible for almost half its eventual figure of £27,980, six shillings and eight pence. 




Since being constructed, parts of the Museum Building’s interior have undergone modification, with many of the larger rooms being subdivided. What remains unchanged is the great, double-height stair hall, approached via a vestibule, the latter containing among other things the skeleton of an Irish Elk. The walls, originally intended to be of rubble masonry covered in plaster, are lined in Caen stone, selected by the architects as being more appropriate to the space. The Imperial staircase of Portland Stone leads to facing first-floor, triple-arched galleries supported by similar arcaded screens on the floor below. The columns are of different coloured polished stone, all of it Irish except for a dark-red serpentinite from Cornwall. There are 14 full columns which cost £13 each, 18  half-columns (£8 each) and 98 feet of Connemara marble used for the stair and balcony handrails (£122, 10 shillings). This great space is lit by glazed oculi set within a pair of shallow domes decorated with polychromatic brick, their central supporting arch carried on stone colonettes. Particularly in consequence of these domes, the impression is given of a harmonious marriage between the Venetian Gothic and Hispanic Moorish styles. Above the vestibule arches, for example, can be seen a series of small six-sided star openings; these are part of the architects’ original ventilation system reminiscent of those found in old hammams. Trinity College’s Museum Building has rightly been admired since first built (and, as mentioned above, even before its completion). The place is still much in use as part of a working university, which explains the somewhat distracting clutter. But that staircase and those soaring domes…


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Operation Transformation


Exactly eight years ago, the Irish Aesthete visited No.3 Henrietta Street, Dublin and subsequently wrote about the house (see Opportunity Knocks « The Irish Aesthete). It was then for sale and in pitiable condition, having been turned into a tenement in the last century, with many of the original features such as the main staircase and the main chimney pieces stripped out and rooms subdivided to create more units in which entire families could be accommodated. Like many such buildings in this part of the city, it had been comprehensively degraded and faced an uncertain future. 






As discussed before, the site of 3 Henrietta Street, along with its immediate neighbour, was originally owned by Nathaniel Clements who completed work on the building around 1740-41 and then sold to the Rev. George Stone, Bishop of Ferns. The latter 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 the even grander residence at the top of the street constructed for his predecessor in that office, Hugh Boulter. No. 4 was then leased to John Maxwell, MP for County Cavan and later first Lord Farnham. When John Maxwell moved into the house, 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 and it is thought that No.3 was built around this time to provide a Dublin residence for the newly-weds. The interior of the building underwent alterations believed to date from 1830: this was perhaps when the main staircase was removed and the double-height entrance hall divided into rooms on two levels. However, particularly on the first floor, the rooms retained 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 were sectioned by plaster panelling. To the rear at this level was a wonderful room with rococo stuccowork in the coved ceiling which extended into the bow. 





As can be seen, when offered for sale in 2016, No.3 Henrietta Street was in poor condition and looked an unattractive proposition for any possible buyer. Fortunately, it found new owners who in the years that followed undertook a thorough, and thoroughly sensitive, restoration of the building. One of their main interventions was the reinstatement of the double-height entrance hall incorporating a staircase such as would have existed when the house was first constructed and as can still be found in a number of other houses on the street (see, for example, No. 7, Relics of Auld Decency « The Irish Aesthete). This completely transforms the interior, making it altogether lighter and offering a better idea of how such buildings would have appeared to both owners and visitors in the 18th century. Upstairs, all the rooms were similarly refurbished, not least the first-floor bow-ended room with its charming coved ceiling with rococo plasterwork. The Irish Aesthete often (perhaps too often for some readers) focuses on loss and debasement of this country’s architectural heritage, so it is a pleasure to offer more cheering news on this occasion, evidence that at least occasionally our historic buildings, can sometimes be brought back from what appears to be the brink of permanent loss. 


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The Ascent to Knowledge


Herewith the entrance hall and main staircase of the King’s Inns’ Library on Henrietta Street, Dublin. The site, located at the top of the thoroughfare, had previously been the location for a large, six-bay house built in the early 18th century for Hugh Boulter, Archbishop of Armagh and thereafter occupied by a number of his successors, hence the street was popularly known as Primate’s Hill. This building was demolished c.1825 and replaced with the present library, designed by Frederick Darley. The double-height reading room on the first floor is accessed via an imperial staircase lit by a large arched window filled with armorial glass made by Michael O’Connor.

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Twins in Trinity



In Trinity College Dublin’s Front (otherwise known as Parliament) Square, two buildings with identical facades look across at each other. Planned in the mid-1770s by Sir William Chambers, but executed by Christopher Myers (and then completed after the latter’s death by his son Graham Myers), that to the north holds the college Chapel, that to the south the Theatre, now Examination Hall. Both are of five bays, with the three centre bays featuring a ground-floor arcade supporting Corinthian columns below a substantial pediment. While these are faced in Portland stone, the flanking single bay three storey offices are of granite ashlar. Yet, while the exteriors look the same, the interiors are very differen






Built 1777-86, and therefore preceding the nearby Chapel by a decade, Trinity College Dublin’s Theatre, now Examination Hall, is a five-bay hall with elliptical groin vaulted ceiling and plasterwork created by stuccodore Michael Stapleton. In a gallery above the facade arcade can be seen a gilded organ case was made in 1684 by Lancelot Pease, while the chandelier at the south end of the hall formerly hung in the Irish House of Commons. The walls here are hung with a series of portraits commissioned from Robert Home in1782, their frames carved by Richard Cranfield. However, much space on the west side is taken up by a monument to Dr Richard Baldwin, Provost of the college from 1717 until his death in 1758’ this superlative work, dating from 1781, was designed by Christopher Hewetson. Incorporating Italian Africano marble salvaged from an ancient Roman architectural site and a sarcophagus of Porto Venere Marble with gilt bronze feet, the white marble figures were carved in Rome and installed by Edward Smyth.






Soon after the theatre was finished, work began on the college’s chapel, completed in 1798. As with the other building, this is a five-bay hall, although somewhat longer and narrower in shape, with a bowed organ gallery at the south end (carved by Richard Cranfield) and an elliptical apse at the north end.
Between the nave’s arched openings, some glazed, some blind, paired and fluted Ionic pilasters lead the eye to the coffered ceiling with its rich plasterwork by Michael Stapleton. Additional light is provided by semi-circular clerestory windows above the cornice. As so often with churches, the building experienced alterations in the 19th century altering its hitherto pure classical character. Stained glass by Clayton & Bell was installed in 1865, depicting scenes of Moses and the Children, the Ransom of the Lord, the Sermon on the Mount, and Christ with the teachers of Law. The polychrome floor tiles were added to designs of John McCurdy, and, in 1872, stained glass windows were installed in the apse and centre, showing the Transfiguration, to designs by Mayer & Company. Nevertheless, even with these changes the chapel offers an example of decorative taste in Ireland on the eve of the Act of Union. 



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An Evocative Spot



A rare occasion when Foster Place, Dublin is not cluttered with parked cars. This narrow cul-de-sac off Dame Street is located to the immediate west of the Bank of Ireland (formerly Ireland’s House of Commons) on College Green. The space was created in 1787 when buildings on this side were demolished to create a new entrance to the House of Commons designed by Robert Parke (the equivalent on the east side, on Westmoreland Street was designed two years earlier by James Gandon) and distinguished by a massive tetrastyle Ionic portico. At the north end of the place, and in the aftermath of the former parliament being given new purpose, Francis Johnston designed an armoury/guardhouse that sympathetically replicates many of the features of Pearce’s great building. On the west side, and directly facing the Commons entrance, originally stood Daly’s Clubhouse, the most fashionable gentleman’s club in Georgian Dublin; in the 19th century, this became yet another bank and was subject to alterations, notably George Papworth’s porch of c.1840. Deserving -indeed demanding – pedestrianisation, Foster Place holds potential to be one of the most evocative spots in Dublin.

Where Turkeys Voted for Christmas


Like their English equivalent, for many centuries Ireland’s Houses of Parliament lacked purpose-built quarters, instead meeting in various locations, not least a hall in Dublin Castle. However, following Charles II’s restoration to the throne in 1660, the government leased Chichester House, a residence in central Dublin dating from the reign of Elizabeth I which in the early 17th century had been used as the country’s law courts. Overlooking Hoggen (subsequently College Green) and adjacent to Trinity College Dublin, despite its eminent position the building soon proved to be unsatisfactory for its new purpose and by 1728 a decision had been taken that it should be replaced. This was despite, or perhaps because, of the country’s economic circumstances then being in a poor condition: Edward McParland has proposed that William Conolly, then Speaker of the House of Commons and likely one of the driving forces behind the project (although he died while work on the site was ongoing) would have seen the new parliament building’s construction as reflationary; in 1721 George Berkeley, specifically mentioning such an undertaking, argued that it would ‘employ many Hands’ and at the same time ‘keep the Mony circulating at home…’ Likewise, when finished, Robert Howard, Bishop of Elphin, while thinking the Houses of Parliament were ‘too fine for us,’ consoled himself with the thought that at least ‘it hath chiefly employed our own hands.’ Once it had been decided to embark on this enterprise, progress was fast. In January 1728 a building committee was empowered to receive plans, and less than a month later it sought these from Edward Lovett Pearce: he submitted these in early March. The foundation stone was laid in February 1729 and by November of that year, ‘the Walls and Roof…are now near finished and compleat.’ In October 1731 the two houses of the Irish Parliament assembled for the first time in their newly completed chambers. 





Described by Christine Casey as ‘arguably the most accomplished public set-piece of the Palladian style in these islands,’ Edward Lovett Pearce’s building was also the first purpose-built bicameral assembly in Europe. Overlooking College Green, the former Houses of Parliament has a forecourt dominated by a towering Ionic colonnade of Portland stone in front of Granite walls. The only original decoration to this austere facade is the royal coat of arms set into the tympanum (the three figures above, of Hibernia flanked by Fidelity and Commerce, were added in the early 19th century after the building had changed purposes). There were separate entrances for the Houses of Commons and Lords respectively and while the former chamber no longer exists ((it was, in any case, badly damaged by fire in 1792 before being dismantled barely a decade later), the latter has survived with relatively few changes. In Francis G James’s Lords of the Ascendancy, his book on the Irish House of Lords 1600-1800, the author notes that the number of this country’s peers was never very great. In the first three quarters of the 18th century, there were between 100 and 150 families possessing Irish titles, but James notes that only 60 percent of these spent a substantial amount of time in Ireland (some of them had Irish titles but no land or connections here, others were Roman Catholics or émigrés, unable or unwilling to take the Oath of Allegiance to the Crown). Accordingly, the number of peers attending the Irish House of Lords was often considerably less than 100, to which can be added the 22 Lords Spiritual (four Archbishops and 18 Bishops) who also had a right to seats in the upper house, although again many of them did not attend regularly. This explains the relatively small size of the House of Lords, since it never had to hold too many people. The room is tripartite, with an entrance area, the main chamber and the throne apse. Tall and barrel-vaulted with a coffered ceiling, it is lit by thermal windows at either end. The entrance area and apse are entirely panelled in oak with round-headed niches and engaged Ionic columns. The main chamber is panelled in the lower section, above which are giant Corinthian pilasters on either side of walls dominated by a pair of tapestries. Commissioned for the space in 1728, they depict William III at the Battle of the Boyne (above the oak chimneypiece) and the Siege of Derry. When assembled, the peers would have sat here upon benches and wool-sacks. No image of them doing so appears to exist (whereas there is a painting of 1780 by Francis Wheatley that depicts the Irish House of Commons in session). 




In the last quarter of the 18th century, Ireland’s parliament sought to exercise its independent authority to a greater extent than had previously been the case, leading to a series of political crises as the government in London sought to curtail Irish legislators’ power. In 1782, for example, what became known as ‘Grattan’s Parliament’ (after the Irish politician and orator Henry Grattan), succeeded in passing a series of acts that increased Ireland’s legislative and judicial independence. The onset of the French Revolution in 1789 and then an uprising – ultimately abortive but temporarily threatening – within Ireland in 1798, led the British government to fear that the country might escape from its authority altogether. Accordingly the decision was taken to concentrate all legislative power in Westminster, requiring the abolition of a separate Irish parliament. It took a couple of efforts – and a great deal of bribery – to achieve this result, not least because Ireland’s legislators had to approve the loss of their own authority (the phrase about turkeys voting for Christmas comes to mind). The Act of Union, as it was called, initially failed to win approval in the Irish House of Commons in January 1799, but a year (and a number of further bribes) later, the deed was done and the Irish Houses of Parliament ceased, of its own volition, to exist. In his Autobiographical Sketches, Thomas de Quincy recalled being in the House of Lords when it met for the last time, and he observed that when the order of abolition was announced, ‘no audible expression, no buzz nor murmur, nor susurrus even, testified the feelings which, doubtless lay rankling in many bosoms.; They had surrendered their power, he thought, ‘with nothing worth the name of a struggle, and no reward worth the name of an indemnification.’ In the aftermath of this act, an alternative use needed to be found for the splendid building on College Green, and in 1803 it was sold by the government to the Bank of Ireland for £40,000, on the understanding that changes would be made to the interior so that it could not revert to its former purpose. This work was undertaken sympathetically by architect Francis Johnston but while the old House of Commons was broken up, the House of Lords survived, for a long time being used as the bank’s board room. Today it is open to the public during weekday mornings and offers a glimpse into how and where Ireland’s parliament operated in the decades before voting itself out of existence. 

Don’t Hold Your Breath


Irish Times, December 7th 2000: Fresh Look for Fruit and Vegetable Market
‘Occupying a large site of some 6,000 sq m and with its principal facades on Mary’s Lane and St Michan’s Street, the market is one of the city’s least-known or appreciated architectural delights. This situation should now improve, however, because Dublin Corporation has just finished a £1 million-plus restoration of the building’s exterior, for which the funds came from the local authority, the Department of the Environment and the EU. The Fruit and Vegetable Market was intended to replace a jumble of unhygienic and dilapidated structures serving that purpose on Dublin’s northside and first opened for business in December 1892. It was designed by the city engineer Spencer Harty and, when new, was described in the Irish Builder as being likely to “rank foremost with many of our modern buildings”.’
Irish Times, December 11th 2004: Fish Market to close after 100 Years,
‘Dublin City Council is to close the 100-year-old fish market in the north inner-city as part of a €70 million rejuvenation of the markets area. The closure will also see the adjacent fruit and vegetable market move to a site near the M50, at a location yet to be finalised, as the council plans to refurbish its Victorian building for use as a retail “table-top market” modelled on the English market in Cork.It is hoped the table-top market will ultimately see high quality fresh vegetables, fruit and home produce – including organic foods, cheeses and pastas – attract new visitors and shoppers to the area.
The city council envisages the current fruit and vegetable market building becoming “the Victorian set-piece” for the rejuvenation of a large surrounding area which currently includes much warehousing.’





Irish Times, January 3rd 2008,: The Markets: Bidder Identified
‘In July 2005 the council announced a framework plan to redevelop the area surrounding the old fruit and vegetable markets and the fish market southeast of the Four Courts.
The project was to involve private investment of more than €400 million to build a new food market, restaurant and general retail market within the retained Victorian fruit and vegetable market building and the site of the fish market.
Some 600 homes and 60,000sq metres of office/retail units were also to be built in the area. The market square and surrounding infrastructure was also expected to be granted up to €25 million in exchequer funding.
Demolition of the fish market did begin in November 2005, but subsequent development stalled, largely, it is understood, due to difficulties in negotiations with the existing stall-holders in the market.’
Irish Times, August 2nd 2011: Capital’s Fruit and Vegetable Market to get artisan food makeover
‘Dublin’s Victorian fruit and vegetable market, which was the centrepiece of a €425 million regeneration scheme that collapsed three years ago, is to be redeveloped as an artisan food market by Dublin City Council.
The council plans to refurbish the market, which is occupied by a small number of wholesale fruit, vegetable and flower sellers, and provide some 40,000sq ft for food retailers.
The market would be modelled along the lines of European food markets and the highly successful English Market in Cork city, assistant city manager Michael Stubbs said.’
Irish Times, August 19th 2013: Dublin’s Victorian Fruit Market to be Redeveloped
‘The Victorian fruit and vegetable market in Dublin’s north inner city is to be redeveloped as a continental-style food market more than a decade since its regeneration was first proposed.
Dublin City Council has drafted plans for the refurbishment of the market hall between Capel Street and the Four Courts. It intends to go to tender for contractors by the end of this year, with work due to start by autumn 2014. The council hopes to have retailers on site in the newly restored hall by summer 2015.
The building, which was built in 1892 and is on the Record of Protected Structures, has 6,000sq m of internal space, currently devoted to wholesale. Under the new plan, the wholesalers, who serve surrounding restaurants and shops with fruit and vegetables, will move to the western half of the building.
The remaining half of the market will be devoted to a retail food market that includes butchers, bakers, cheesemongers, fishmongers, and a range of other food producers, as well as greengrocers. There will also be space for cafes at the edges of the market and in buildings bordering the market.’





Irish Times, March 3rd 2015: Plans for Historic Dublin Market Approved by City Councillors.
‘The €3 million redevelopment of Dublin’s Victorian fruit and vegetable market as a continental-style food market has been approved by Dublin city councillors.
The 1892 wholesale market building between Capel Street and the Four Courts in the north inner city will be refurbished and converted into a retail and wholesale market.
The council aims to attract a range of food producers including butchers, bakers, cheesemongers, fishmongers and greengrocers, serving goods to take home as well as to eat at the market, while retaining the wholesale businesses in the western half of the market hall.’
Irish Times, May 21st 2018: Victorian Dublin Market Regeneration to Go Ahead
‘A €3 million redevelopment of Dublin’s Victorian fruit and vegetable market as a continental-style food market is finally to go ahead more than 16 years after it was first planned.
Dublin City Council assistant chief executive Richard Shakespeare said he expects to have vacant possession of the 126-year-old market hall by the end of the summer and will then seek tenders for its refurbishment and conversion into a retail and wholesale market.
He said he hoped the revamp of the market, located between Capel Street and the Four Courts in the north inner city, would get under way early next year with work expected to take in the region of 18 months.’
Irish Times, August 15th 2019: Dublin’s Victorian Fruit Market to Close for Two Years for Revamp
‘Dublin’s Victorian fruit and vegetable market on Mary’s Lane will close next week for a major redevelopment project expected to take at least two years.
Dublin City Council has had permission for the past four years to convert the 127-year-old wholesale market between Capel Street and Smithfield into a 50-50 retail and wholesale market.
However, the market may now be changed to a retail-only facility, depending on the outcome of a tender process for the redevelopment, which will get under way in the coming months.’
Irish Times, October 31st 2023: Reopening of Dublin Victorian Market sees Dramatic Plan for Surrounding Area
‘The revitalisation of the area around Dublin’s Victorian fruit and vegetable market, with the extension of pedestrianisation from Capel Street, and the upgrade of parks and roads, is planned in advance of the reopening of the market.
The draft Markets Area Public Realm Plan aims to dramatically improve the environment of the north inner city area between Capel Street, Church Street, North King Street and the quays…
…The area was once a thriving market district, serving the city’s restaurants and grocers. While many wholesale traders still operate in there, the closure of the council’s fruit and vegetable market on Mary’s Lane in 2019 substantially reduced activity in the locality.’
Irish Times, April 6th 2024: Dublin’s Victorian Fruit and Vegetable Market Finally to Reopen
‘Redevelopment of Dublin’s Victorian fruit and vegetable market is finally to go ahead at a cost of €25 million, five years after its closure, city council chief executive Richard Shakespeare has confirmed.
The revamped retail food market and restaurant complex will reopen in just over two years’ time, following an extensive refurbishment and fit-out programme, Mr Shakespeare said.’

Don’t hold your breath…


P.S. While we wait for more time to pass, perhaps someone could take the relevant persons in Dublin City Council to one side and advise them that even basic maintenance of a building will help to reduce the costs of its eventual restoration.

A Rare Survivor



For more than half a century, conservationists have rightly lamented how much of 18th century Dublin has either faced neglect, clumsy restoration or, at worst, demolition. During this period, vast swathes of the capital have seen the loss of their architectural heritage. However, that unhappy state of affairs has a precedent: our Georgian forebears did their best to obliterate almost every trace of the mediaeval city. Admittedly, after the turmoils of the 16th and 17th centuries, much of Dublin was in poor shape. Nevertheless, it is remarkable how few buildings dating from before 1700 survive today. One of them is the city’s only remaining mediaeval parish church: St Audoen’s. 






St Audoen’s derives its name from the seventh century Frankish saint Ouen (or Audoin), thereby indicating that it was established by the Normans following their arrival in the country; it has been proposed the building was first erected c.1200 during the episcopacy of John Cumin, the first Norman archbishop of Dublin. The church has a complex history, involving periods of expansion and contraction. The earliest part consisted of a nave and chancel in the section now known as St Anne’s Chapel and today housing an exhibition centre. Towards the end of the 13th or early 14th century, the north (riverside) wall of St Audoen’s was rebuilt as a four-bay arcade to create an enlarged nave: this part of the building continues to be used for services by the Church of Ireland. Meanwhile, a royal patent of 1430 granted licence for the conversion of the original, southerly nave into a chantry chapel for the Guild of St Anne, the most significant religious guild in the city. The guild supported six chantry priests who each daily celebrated mass at his assigned altar, one dedicated to the Virgin, the other five to SS.Anne, Catherine, Nicholas, Thomas and Clare. A domestic range, in which the priests lived, stood to the immediate south. Over half a century later, St Audoen’s was further enlarged when a second chantry chapel was erected to the immediate east, as wide as the existing structure and like it divided into two parts by an arcade, in this instance of three bays. The new chantry chapel, built in honour of the Virgin, was funded by Richard FitzEustace, first Baron Portlester who served as Lord Treasurer of Ireland, Keeper of the Great Seal and, on two occasions, Lord Chancellor. His tomb, and that of his wife Margaret, originally placed between the chancel and the chapel, was moved in 1860 to its present location beneath the tower at the west end of the church. By the 16th century, St Audoen’s was one of the capital’s wealthiest and finest places of worship, Richard Stanyhurst noting in 1568 that it ‘was accounted the best in Dublin for the greater number of Aldermen and Worships of the city living in the Parish.’ However, that was all about to change. 






Although chantries and guilds were officially suppressed during the Reformation, that dedicated to St Anne and associated with St Audoen’s survived until the end of the 17th century when an Act of 1695 officially dissolved all chantries in Ireland. In the interim, having been transferred to the Church of Ireland and with few parishioners to support it, the building began to suffer from neglect. Fashionable new districts were developed elsewhere and the wealthy preferred to live (and worship) there, meaning those who remained living in the area had little money to spend on the church. In 1773, the chancel and Portlester Chantry were unroofed: a drawing by George Petrie shows the latter in 1829 with lines of washing strung across the arcades. Around the same time, the main arcade was bricked up, with St Anne’s Chapel abandoned and the north nave established as a parish chapel. Such remains the case. The present tower at the west end dates from the 17th century but has been repeatedly repaired and indeed was remodelled in 1826 by architect Henry Aaron Baker. Vulnerable to collapse, it underwent remedial work in 1916 and then a major restoration some 40 years ago. More importantly, in 2000 St Anne’s Chapel was re-roofed and turned into the aforementioned visitors’ centre with the insertion of a steel gallery along the west and north walls. Beside this is the present parish church, its south wall still displays the late 13th/early 14th century arcade, with sandstone piers supporting arches; the space between them would once have been open. At the east end of the north wall are two funerary monuments dating from some time between 1600-30 and commemorating the Duffe and Sparke families. At the other end of the nave is a late 12th century font while in St Anne’s Chapel are the remains of another monument, this one Alderman John Malone (who died in 1592) and other members of his family. As mentioned, the Portlester tomb is now below the tower. It depicts the recumbent figures of a knight and his lady, together with an inscription recording the endowment of 1482. St Audoen’s is open daily (from the months of March to November) and admission is free. The former graveyard to the west end of the church has been extensively landscaped and is now a public park. 

Another Light Hand


No.36 Westland Row, Dublin and its exquisite neoclassical plasterwork has featured here before (see A Light Hand « The Irish Aesthete) Home for more than 150 years to the Royal Irish Academy of Music, the building was originally constructed in 1771 as a private house but in the 19th century, like so many others, became used for commercial purposes. Somehow, its interiors remained intact, not least one of the first-floor reception rooms, the ceiling of which has an elaborate decorative scheme with a classical scene painted by an unknown hand at its centre. Meanwhile, on either side of the chimney-breast are substantial fluted niches, with various classical figures inside ovals. As mentioned before, the stuccowork here has been tentatively attributed by Conor Lucey to Michael Stapleton, drawing on designs made by Thomas Penrose. The latter acted as agent for the English architect James Wyatt who during this period had many clients in Ireland.