Tag Archives: Heritage at Risk

Squandering National Resources


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






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






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


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The Country for Ruins

Lackeen Castle, County Tipperary

A request to speak at a forthcoming academic event exploring various perceptions of ruins has led the Irish Aesthete to consider, not for the first time, what might be the particular appeal of historic buildings that have fallen into decay, and why there are so many of them in this country. ‘To delight in the aspects of sentient ruin might appear a heartless pastime,’ Henry James confessed in Italian Hours (1873) ‘and the pleasure, I confess, shows the note of perversity.’ Tumbling roofs and crumbling walls have long exerted a particular appeal, as was noted by Rose Macaulay in her wonderful 1953 book Pleasure of Ruins when she rhetorically enquired ‘what part is played by morbid pleasure in decay, by righteous pleasure in retribution…’ The morbidity of ruins without doubt helps to explain their attraction: in a state of decay, they allow us to engage in romantic speculation which may or may not be accurate. There are certainly many opportunities to engage in such hypothesising in Ireland. In some instances, they can be wonderfully picturesque, a fact highlighted by the clergyman and author William Gilpin who in 1782 published his highly influential book, Observations on the River Wye, and Several Parts of South Wales, etc. Relative Chiefly to Picturesque Beauty; made in the Summer of the Year 1770. Among the points he made was that in landscape painting the presence of a ruined castle or abbey would add to the work what he called ‘consequence.’ The truth of this observation had already been made apparent in the previous century by a number of French artists – Poussin, Claude Lorain, Dughet – based in Italy where they produced paintings in which ruins were often a notable feature.

Clonfert Palace, County Galway

Rappa Castle, County Mayo

Dromore Castle, County Limerick

Graffan House, County Offaly

Works such as those painted by the likes of Poussin et al are known to have had a critical influence on the design of both British and Irish country house landscapes in the 18th century, when the pictures were bought by Grand Tourists and brought back home where parklands and demesnes were laid out to look like them. Sometimes, to enhance the view, they even incorporated artificial ruins as was the case in a number of properties around the country. At Belvedere, County Westmeath, for example, the ‘Jealous Wall’ was constructed. Some 180 feet long, this theatrical sham ruin dates from c.1760 when commissioned by Robert Rochfort, first Earl of Belvedere. Seemingly, it was built in order to block the view south towards Tudenham Park, a house further along Lough Ennell which had been erected some years before by the earl’s younger brother, George Rochfort, with whom he had quarreled. The earl might simply have asked for a high wall, but instead opted for one that romantically looks like the remains of an ancient castle. At Heywood, County Laois – where the grounds were laid out by owner Frederick Trench installed a number of fake ruins in the 1770s, including what appear to be the remains of a ruined medieval church, incorporating a traceried window thought  to be 15th century and to have been brought from the former Dominican friary at Aghaboe, some twelve miles away. Towards the end of the 18th century, the demesne at Lawrencetown, County Galway was similarly enhanced by the addition of a number of follies, including a Gothick eyecatcher, intended to suggest the remains of an otherwise lost building. Back in County Westmeath, at Killua Sir Benjamin Chapman acquired some of the stonework from a medieval Franciscan friary at Multyfarnham and around 1800 used this material to create a charming ‘ruin’ visible from the garden front of the house. 

The Jealous Wall, Belvedere, County Westmeath

Heywood, County Laois

Lawrencetown, County Galway

Killua Castle, County Westmeath

Even without the addition of fake examples, Ireland has never been short of ruins. The observations of  German writer and geographer Johann Georg Kohl who visited Ireland in 1841 have been cited before. ‘Of all the countries in the world’, he wrote, ‘Ireland is the country for ruins. Here you have ruins of every period of history, from the time of the Phoenicians down to the present day…down to our own times each century has marked its progress by the ruins it has left. Nay, every decade, one might almost say, has set its sign upon Ireland, for in all directions you see a number of dilapidated buildings, ruins of yesterday’s erection.’ What this suggests is that the Irish have a particular affinity for decay and dilapidation, given that the stock of ruined buildings seen by Kohl has only further increased since his time, although too often these additions could not be described as picturesque or romantic. Last week, the Irish Times reported on two substantial 19th century houses in Phibsborough, Dublin which in 2009 were added to the city council’s list of derelict sites. A decade later, after the buildings had fallen into still worse condition, they were compulsorily purchased by the authority which then announced plans to restore them for use as social housing. Now, after a further seven years of decline, the council has announced that the cost of undertaking such a restoration would be excessive and that there were currently ‘no plans’ for the properties. Of all the countries in the world, Ireland retains its title as the country for ruins.

Ightermurragh Castle, County Cork

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Death of a Salesman



Until relatively recently, across Ireland every country town would have had an hotel. It was the place where local weddings and similar social gatherings might be held, as well serving as a venue for business meetings, gatherings of societies like the Rotary or Lions Clubs, and occasional clandestine encounters. But what helped to sustain these hotels on a day-to-day basis, what kept the bar humming in the evening, filled bedrooms at night and ensured breakfast would be served in the morning were members of a now-vanished breed: the commercial traveller. 





Commercial travellers, otherwise known as travelling salesmen, were once a common sight throughout the country. Almost incessantly on the road, they moved from one urban centre to another, seeking to persuade individuals or retail outlets to buy the products or services of the company they represented. Their numbers were sufficiently great for the Irish Commercial Travellers’ Federation to be founded in Cork in 1919; in the middle of the last century, this body was sufficiently important to have its own publication, The Traveller.
While there were a handful of products being offered for sale by women – the Avon Lady who sold cosmetics and the like – commercial travellers were overwhelmingly male, and the profession gained a reputation for being somewhat libidinous: all those men on their own with an hotel bedroom at their disposal. Timothy Lea’s saucy Confessions of a Travelling Salesman was published in 1973, and the same year saw the release of the rather lame film, Secrets of a Door-to-Door Salesman. However, the end was soon nigh for commercial travellers: tellingly, in 1981, the Irish Commercial Travellers’ Federation was absorbed into the Sales, Marketing & Administrative Union of Ireland. Various factors have been given for the decline and eventual disappearance of a once-widespread occupation. Improvements in communication and transportation made the traditional role of a travelling salesman who physically visited customers over long periods less necessary for mainstream businesses. More recently, computers, and the internet have created direct online ordering systems, thereby allowing retailers to view and order stock directly from manufacturers, and making the role of the commercial traveller redundant. In addition, the rise of large retail chains has led to a corresponding reduction in the number of independent outlets that once relied on travellers. All of which hastened the demise of the travelling salesman. 





A recent visit to two towns less than six miles apart, one on either side of the border, both of which have hotels which were once thriving but which are now empty and in poor condition. In Clones, County Monaghan, the former Lennard Arms which stands in a prominent position at the junction of MacCurtain and Analore Streets and with a bold double canted bay fronted façade facing The Diamond, dates back to 1860. According to the National Built Heritage Service, the building ‘has been an institution in Clones since it commenced trading and endures as an important landmark in the town.’ That was written in 2011, and since then the hotel has ceased trading and fallen into its present sad state. Meanwhile, over in Newtownbutler the handsome Lanesborough Arms Hotel on Main Street first opened for business in 1820 and serves as testament to the prosperity of the town at the time. Of five bays and three storeys with a free-standing Tuscan porch, it closed for business in 2004 (the interior of the adjacent pub was removed and reinstalled in the Ulster American Folk Park, County Tyrone). A fire believed to have been started deliberately caused major damage to the building in 2016 and its condition has only grown worse since then.
The Lennard and Lanesborough Arms Hotels were both the kind of premises which have once provided hospitality to commercial travellers, and one wonders whether the disappearance of this formerly reliable class of guest was a factor in their closure. Each town suffers from the blight of dereliction (see top pictures for Clones and bottom ones for Newtownbutler), providing further evidence that once-thriving urban centres in all parts of Ireland have experienced serious decline across recent decades. With the loss of their clientele, do these once-thriving hotels have a future? In Clones, plans have been announced by the local authority to renovate the Lennard Arms as a heritage centre. Alas, no such opportunities in Newtownbutler for the Lanesborough Arms which, together with many of its neighbours along Main Street, continues to stand empty and neglected.



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Pathetic Residue




A gate lodge, almost all that remains of Ballywilliam, a former estate in County Limerick owned by the Maunsell family from the mid-18th century onwards. The main house here has long gone but this pathetic residue serves as a memory of what was once here. In his guide to the lodges of Munster, J.A.K. Dean ascribes the building’s design to Charles Frederick Anderson, and suggests a date after 1824 when Ballywilliam was inherited by George Meares Maunsell. A wonderful example of neo-classical design, the building has a pedimented breakfront supported by Doric columns, all in crisp cut limestone. Flanked by a curtain wall, pedimented projections extend the single-storey lodge to accommodate three rooms, that in the centre having a brick-vaulted ceiling, the floor below now covered in detritus.




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Shocking Deterioration




The pictures above show a terrace of former almshouses in Rockcorry, County Monaghan in August 2013. The pictures below show the same terrace in August 2025: the deterioration in their condition over the past 12 years is shocking. A stone plaque on the pediment of the two end houses advises that the terrace was ‘built by Jos. Griffiths for destitute widows A.D. 1847.’ Of two storeys and three bays, there are four such houses, sturdily constructed of stone with brick trim around the doors and windows. They are mentioned several times in a document commissioned by the local authority which appeared two years ago, Rockcorry Vision Plan 2030, with references made to ‘support community and private development of vacant and derelict residential properties for adaptation and re-use as new homes’ or the possibility of them being converted to tourist accommodation. Meanwhile, they continue to deteriorate…




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A Failed Venture



The former lock-keeper’s house outside Smithborough, County Monaghan. Dating from the mid-1830s, it was constructed by the Ulster Canal Company established in the previous decade to link Lough Neagh to Lough Erne. The canal opened in 1842 but proved a failure, since in an effort to economise the company created too narrow locks and, in places, a route too narrow to permit boats to pass. Shortage of water was also a problem, as was competition by the expanding network of railway lines. By 1851 the company was already in financial difficulty and the canal was taken over by the Board of Works. However, the problems proved insuperable and by the early 20th century the canal had become derelict. This little house now sits surrounded by dry land (as does and adjacent former lock), a souvenir of a failed venture.



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Unspoilt



Sitting in a graveyard on the edge of Strangford Lough, his little Roman Catholic church at Ardkeen on the Ards Peninsula, County Down dates from 1777, as legislation against dissenters from the Established Church was beginning to be revoked. It was erected by general subscription overseen by a local priest, Fr Daniel O’Dorman and initially served the entire peninsula but in the 19th century, as other churches were constructed, the building became less used and was reduced to the status of a mortuary chapel: seemingly it now hosts a service only once a year, on All Souls’ Day (November 1st). The church retains much of its original appearance, including arch-headed sash windows and a roof covered in rough-hewn ‘Tullycavey’ slates. Inside also little has changed, with the box pews still in place and on the south side of the altar a simple confessional box. In 2019 the church won one of the Ulster Architectural Heritage’s Angel Awards for Best Maintenance of a Community Building, but it now looks once more in need of  attention, as the condition of the window frames indicates.



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Uncertain Future I


Just over a week ago, the handful of Cistercian monks still living at Mount Melleray Abbey, County Waterford left the premises and moved to another part of the country. The history of the abbey dates back almost 200 years, to the aftermath of the 1830 Revolution in France when a group of some 64 Irish and English monks were obliged to leave their monastery at Melleray in Brittany. Led by Melleray’s Prior, Waterford-born Fr Vincent Ryan, they arrived in this country in December 1831 and initially rented a property in County Kerry but soon found that site unsatisfactory and were then offered an alternative by Sir Richard Keane who a few years earlier had inherited a large estate at Cappoquin, County Waterford. Keane proposed the monks rent 600 acres of mountain land at a modest rent. Assisted by local people, the furze and scrub covering the property was gradually cleared and a working farm established. Meanwhile, preparations were made for the establishment of a new monastery, the foundation stone of which was laid on 20th August 1833, the feast of St Bernard of Clairvaux. Created an abbey two years later, with Fr Ryan as its first abbot, the monastery was named Mount Melleray, in memory of the French house left behind. 





For a long time, Mount Melleray thrived; at its height the monastery was home to some 150 priests and brothers. A school operated on the premises from 1843 until it closed in 1974 (see Untapped Potential « The Irish Aesthete) and in addition to the farm, there was a carpenters’ workshop, a forge and an aviary. Nothing offers better evidence of the Cistercian order’s confidence in the future than the great church, plans for which were first drawn up a century ago following the acquisition of all the cut limestone which had once been used for the exterior of Mitchelstown Castle, County Cork. That great house, which stood some 28 miles to the west west, had been burnt by anti-Treaty forces in August 1922 (see Doomed Inheritance « The Irish Aesthete) and stood empty when Mount Melleray’s Abbot Dom Marius O’Phelan proposed buying the stone. Once agreement had been reached, the material was transported by steam lorry in two consignments a day over a five-year period. Designed by the Dublin firm of Jones and Kelly which specialised in producing traditional designs for religious clients, the new abbey church’s foundation stone was laid in April 1933, shortly before the abbey celebrated the centenary of its foundation. With its great square lantern tower, the main body of work on the abbey church was completed in November 1940, although it was only somewhat later that the high altar and some 20 lesser altars, gifts of benefactors, were installed, together with stained glass, some of which was made by the Harry Clarke Studios. At the south-west corner of this building and at a right-angle to it, a smaller, ‘public’ church was also built, again to the designs of Jones and Kelly and again with stained glass from the Clarke studios. The interior here is also decorated with extensive use of mosaic on the walls. The church was originally dedicated to Saint Philomena, and was once the National Shrine of the latter saint. However, her statue was removed when, on instructions from the Holy See in 1961, Philomena’s name was removed from all liturgical calendars. 





So what will happen now to these churches and all the ancillary buildings around them, once accommodating hundreds of monks and visitors but now standing empty? The last eight monks have moved to another monastery, Mount St Joseph, County Tipperary and no decision has been taken on the future of the abbey at Mount Melleray. In Ireland of the 21st century, this is not an unusual circumstance: the numbers of people choosing to enter the religious life has dropped steeply in recent decades, and one legacy are substantial properties that are surplus to their original requirement. Finding an alternative purpose, especially for a site such as this one, which is relatively isolated, several miles from the nearest town and with no public services in the vicinity, will be challenging. And yet, again like so many others, the buildings are sturdily constructed and, in this particular instance, of architectural interest not least for the incorporation of cut stone from Mitchelstown Castle. A conundrum. 


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The Four Penny Castle


Now surrounded by suburban housing, Monkstown Castle, County Cork once stood proud in its own grounds and overlooking the estuary of the river Lee and access to Cork harbour. The building dates back to the 17th century when it was constructed c.1636 by one Anastasia Gould, wife of John Archdeacon, said to have been a naval officer who was overseas supporting the King of Spain. Legend has it that when he returned home and saw this large structure on his land, he immediately assumed it had been erected by his enemies, and accordingly fired on it, one cannon ball hitting the battlements. The other story associated with Monkstown Castle is that Anastasia Gould was determined not to waste money on its construction and so employed the workmen at a fixed rate with the stipulation that they purchase their daily food supplies and so forth from her at a moderate price. When the job was finished, all bills paid and all sums collected, she found that the castle had cost her precisely four pence. 




Like many similar properties in Ireland, Monkstown Castle has experienced mixed fortunes over the centuries. The Archdeacons do not appear to have enjoyed possession of the building for very long as in the aftermath of the Confederate Wars and the arrival of the Cromwell’s New Model Army, both castle and surrounding estate were granted to Colonel Hercules Huncks, remembered today for having refused to sign Charles I’s execution order (and accordingly being described by Oliver Cromwell as a ‘froward, peevish fellow’). Huncks sold the property to Michael Boyle, Dean of Cloyne (and future Archbishop of Armagh) but in the aftermath of the Restoration the Archdeacons were living there once more, perhaps as tenants of Boyle. In any case, owing to their allegiance to the Stuart cause, they lost the castle again in the aftermath of the Williamite Wars and in due course it was inherited by two of his granddaughters who had married into the Vesey and Pakenham families; thus portions of the estate came to be owned by both the Earl of Longford and the Viscount de Vesci. How well the castle stood is open to question. In 1700 during his Visitation to the diocese Dive Downes, Bishop of Cork and Ross wrote that ‘Mr. O’Callaghan, a Protestant, lives in Monkstown, in a good square castle with flankers. However, at some point in the 18th century it was rented to the government to serve as an army barracks and in his Ancient and Present State of the County and City of Cork first published in 1750, Charles Smith says the castle ‘is large and in ruins, and is flanked by 4 square turrets.’ On the other hand, the Dublin Penny Journal of August 1833, although judging it a ‘large and gloomy pile of building’, comments that the castle is ‘in good repair.’ 




By the early 19th century, Monkstown Castle was owned by the Veseys but leased to one Bernard Shaw, Collector of Cork Port and a member of the same family as the future dramatist George Bernard Shaw. A large chimneypiece inside the building carries the initials B.S. and the date 1804 (as well as 1636) , indicating work was undertaken here at that time, undertaken by local architect William Deane. Bernard Shaw was duly succeeded by his son, Bernard Robert Shaw who lived here until 1869 when he and his wife moved to England where they died. Whether the castle was still occupied is open to question as around 1840 the Shaws had built a large residence close by, called. Castle House. In June 1871 the estate of Bernard Robert Shaw running to 905 acres was advertised for sale. At the start of the last century, the castle was used by the local badminton club before being acquired in 1908 by the newly-established Monkstown Golf Club, which then made the building its club house. MGC bought the castle and what was then a nine-hole course from the De Vesci estate in 1959 for £4,000, selling the castle and some 32 acres in 1967 for £22,000. Thereafter, while the surrounding land was divided up into plots for housing, the castle remained empty and falling into disrepair, becoming a roofless shell. Between 2008 and 2010 extensive restoration work was carried out on the property, which had permission to be divided into three apartments. However, while re-roofed and made watertight, the building was then left unfinished and has remained in this state ever since. In recent years, it has been on the market for €800,000. Not a huge sum, but somewhat more than the four pence the castle originally cost Anastasia Gould. 


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Ill-Advised Indifference


While last Monday’s page told a cheering story of restoration and renewal, today’s story demonstrates that plenty of work remains to be done in order to secure the future of our urban architectural heritage. Waterford city has some fine Georgian buildings, a number of which have been restored in recent years. However, many others have been left to languish, such as that above, no.18 Lady’s Lane. This street was once an important thoroughfare, lined with fine houses of which no.18 is a particularly good example. Thought to date from c.1750, it is of five bays and three storeys, with a particularly splendid staircase and rococo plasterwork. An ugly extension was added to the rear in 1975  when the house served as a men’s hostel (doing so until 2012). Otherwise, despite a fire thought to have been started by vandals, the building retains much of its original character and appearance, although it hasnow  sat empty for many years. Likewise no.22 Lady’s Lane, which is of a later date (c.1800), but likewise of five bays and three storeys, and again suffering neglect. Aside from being a terrible waste of good housing stock, the impression conveyed by such dereliction in the city – where, incidentally, the local authority has hitherto spent over €24 million on consultants’ fees alone for a north quay scheme that has yet to get underway – is that the future Waterford’s historic centre remains under threat from ill-advised indifference.   

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