Tag Archives: Heritage at Risk

A Familiar Sight




A not-uncommon sight in rural Ireland: a pair of abandoned cottages on a minor road in the Knockmealdown Mountains, County Waterford. Their semi-detached status and matching design suggest these were originally built for local estate workers. The buildings are reasonably substantial, of two storeys and with several rooms on each floor. It appears work was begun on restoring one of them but this has been left incomplete and now the pair are sliding into ruin. Sadly, this is a story that can be found repeated in every part of the country.



All the Poorer

 

Elm Hill, County Limerick is a house dating from c.1790 when constructed for the Studdert family. Of six bays and two storeys over raised basement, when offered for sale in the aftermath of the Great Famine, the building was described as containing ‘a spacious and lofty parlour, drawing room and hall; nine capital bedrooms, large kitchen and servants’ hall, besides larder, dairy, closet and cellars of a superior description and in thorough repair.’ It seems to have remained in good condition until the beginning of the present century, after which Elm Hill was left standing empty. The National Inventory of Architectural Heritage, in a survey undertaken in September 2008 reported that while it had fallen into some disrepair, ‘this imposing house retains much of its former grandeur. A high level of technical and artistic skill is evidenced in its design, particularly in the tooled limestone doorcase, the carved timber door and the slate-hung elevations. Internally there are a number of interesting features, notably the slate fireplaces and plastered ceilings.’ Such was its significance that under the terms of the 2000 Planning Act, Elm Hill was designated as a protected structure, with the relevant safeguards such a designation is supposed to provide. However, in June 2021, following proposals from some of its elected representatives, Limerick City and Council removed the house from the list of protected structures, on the grounds that Elm Hill had become unstable and dangerous. It now appears the house is to be demolished and its stone sold off. Such a scenario was commonplace in Ireland during the 1950s and ’60s, but that it should still be occurring today is astonishing and provides evidence that the country’s architectural heritage is no more appreciated, or its future more secure, than was the case 70-plus years ago. Buildings neither rise nor fall without the engagement, or disengagement, of those responsible. If Elm Hill had become ‘unstable and dangerous’, this was because it was allowed to do so, even while designated as a supposedly protected structure. Where, in this instance, was the relevant protection? Under the terms of the 2000 Planning Act, the local authority could – and should – have intervened to ensure the house’s conservation. Instead, it permitted the building to fall into ruin, and then shamelessly removed it from the list of protected structures. As so often in Ireland, legislation exists but implementation does not. Another part of our history disappears – and we are all the poorer for it.

Prominently Located




After Monday’s post about Tikincor Castle, County Waterford (see The House at the Head of the Weir « The Irish Aesthete), here are the remains of another early fortified house: Ballycowan Castle, County Offaly. Prominently sited on a rock outcrop immediately north of the Grand Canal, the building seemingly occupies the site of an earlier castle belonging to the O’Molloys but much of the present structure was erected here by Thomas Morres in 1589. Climbing four storeys to a string course above which soar a series of tall, slender chimneys, the castle displays more visible evidence of its fortified character than does Tikincor, having no windows on the lowest level and a number of bartizans along the roofline. Ballycowan changed hands c.1625 when it came into the possession of Sir Jasper Herbert and his wife Mary Finglas, who extended the building to the east and placed a plaque carrying their arms above a new doorway here. Seemingly the castle suffered damage during the Confederate Wars and their aftermath, which is when the south-west side of the building collapsed. Not least thanks to its location, Ballycowan remains one of the most familiar ruins in this part of the country.



Beyond the Tower House



Graffan House, County Offaly is thought to date from the early 17th century when it may have been constructed as a glebe for the adjacent Ballintemple Church, now also an ivy-drenched ruin. Of three bays and two storeys, the building occupies a fine position on raised ground with views over the surrounding countryside. The house is T-shaped, with the staircase likely occupying the projection, indicating, as Andrew Tierney has noted, ‘the movement beyond the tower house to something more symmetrical.’


An Unhappy Trinity



Currently for sale: this trio of former almshouses on the outskirts of Glanmire, County Cork. Each slightly different from the others, the buildings, designed by an unknown architect in neo-Gothic style with lattice glazing and triangular Oriel windows, are thought to date from the 1820s and built on the instruction of the Colthurst family, perhaps Sir Nicholas Colthurst who until his death in 1829 served as Member of Parliament for nearby Cork city. Sadly, all three have been left to fall into their present dilapidated state and are now in need of complete renovation. They are available for €140,000 each.


Almost Identical Twins



The entrance gateway to the now-demolished Lissadorn, County Roscommon. Extant photographs show this to have been a fine house of three bays and three storeys over raised basement, possibly late 18th or early 19th century in construction. The design of this neoclassical triple archway, thought to date from c.1825, has been attributed to the Roscommon architect Richard Richards, not least because at that time he was working at Mount Talbot, some 25 miles to the south. The unfortunate history of that house has already been told (See An Unhappy Tale « The Irish Aesthete), and, as if to confirm that Richards designed the Lissadorn entrance, it is almost identical to that at Mount Talbot, the only difference being that the former lacks the keystones seen in the latter’s arches. 


A Repetitive Story


Twenty years ago this week, the contents of Lissadell, County Sligo were offered for sale at auction. The importance of accumulated house contents is insufficiently appreciated in this country. Often spanning hundreds of years of occupation by the same family, they represent changes in taste, and in affluence, not just of a particular property’s owners, but of the entire country. They inform our knowledge of Ireland’s history through both good times and bad, and provide enlightenment about how our forebears, of whatever status, lived. Accordingly, their dispersal represents the dissipation of knowledge, leaving us all less well-informed and thereby poorer. In the case of Lissadell, the house, and its predecessor, had been home to generations of the same family, among whom was the revolutionary politician Constance Markievicz. Her association with the building, along with that of many other distinguished figures in Irish history, led to a widespread public campaign for the property and surrounding estate to be bought by the state. As has been so often the case, before and since, this did not happen, and accordingly Lissadell’s contents were auctioned. One of the key losses from this event was a collection of furniture specifically commissioned by an earlier owner, Sir Robert Gore-Booth, for the house. Dating from the 1830s, these pieces were representative of taste in Ireland at the time and were believed to have been made by the Dublin firm of Williams & Gibton. Until the auction, Lissadell was the only house in Ireland to retain its original furniture by this company, so the dispersal was much to be regretted. The items’ importance can be gauged by the fact that most of the lots exceeded their estimates: a rosewood writing table, for example, which was expected to make €8,000-€10,000, fetched €19,000. In the dining room, a set of 17 mahogany chairs (€12,000-€18,000) fetched €22,000 and the dining table itself (€30,000-€50,000) went for €65,000. Forced to bid against other potential purchasers, Lissadell’s new private owners managed to acquire some pieces, such as a pair of handsome mahogany Grecian-style bookcases clearly inspired by the work of Thomas Hope and, again in the dining room, a sturdy mahogany sideboard. But many of the contents, first installed some 170 years earlier, now left for good and not just the Williams & Gibton furniture. There were, for example, a number of fine 17th century Italian baroque paintings, many in spectacular gilt frames, which had been acquired for the rooms by Sir Robert Gore-Booth. And then there were all the miscellaneous objects that build up in any house over generations, from sets of copper jelly moulds to discarded furnishings such as old curtains. These, as much as the more valuable pieces, are what inform the history of a building, and when they are gone, part of that history disappears forever. 





In Ireland, it has long been apparent that if the remaining number of historic houses and contents are to survive, then a coherent strategy to secure their future needs to be considered. The first attempt to devise such a strategy occurred back in 1985 when a body called the Irish Historic Properties Commission, established three years earlier, produced a report written by the late Kevin B Nolan and Lewis Clohessy and called Safeguarding Historic Houses. This clearly stated that ‘our heritage historic properties cannot be preserved without the active and consistent support of the Irish Government.’ Eight years later, in 1993 the Irish Georgian Society and another body since gone, Irish Heritage Properties, held a conference on the future of the Irish country house, subsequently publishing a report on its proceedings. This makes for melancholy reading, since so many of the problems then highlighted remain to the present day, not least the want of sufficient support from central and local government. Ten years later again, Professor Terence Dooley of Maynooth University, at the request of the Irish Georgian Society and the Dept of Environment, Heritage and Local Government, produced a report, A Future for Irish Historic Houses? A Study of Fifty Houses. A year later, the same government department invited Indecon International Consultants to produce an Examination of the Issue of Trust-type Organisations to Manage Heritage Properties in Ireland. Most recently, in 2015 the Department of Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht in collaboration with Irish Historic Houses Association after extensive consultation with a wide variety of interested parties and stakeholders, issued an Action Plan for the Sustainable Future of the Irish Historic House in Private Ownership, a document which was duly approved by the Irish cabinet and appeared in 2016. In other words, no one can complain that the challenges facing the Irish country house and the retention of its contents have been insufficiently examined and analysed. Produced over a period of almost 40 years, these and other documents have constantly made the same point: that houses in private ownership, if they are to have a viable future and hold onto their original furnishings, need assistance from central and local government, the kind of assistance that is available in other European countries but has consistently failed to materialise to any adequate extent in Ireland.





Outside observers often note with surprise that in Ireland there is no equivalent of the National Trust which operates on the other side of the Irish Sea and in Northern Ireland. An attempt was made to create such an equivalent with the establishment of the Irish Heritage Trust in 2006. The IHT was largely the brainchild of the Irish Georgian Society’s current president Sir David Davies. The original purpose of this organisation was that it would, like the National Trust, acquire for public access significant heritage properties deemed to be at risk and for which the State did not want to assume direct responsibility. This would ensure that the houses and their contents would remain intact and preserved for future generations. At the time of its establishment and in recognition of the potential significance of IHT’s work, the government of the time earmarked €35 million for the organisation over the duration of the National Development Plan 2007-2013. Accordingly the IHT entered into discussions with the owners of a number of properties judged to be most suitable for such an arrangement. At all times the relevant government department – for Environment, Heritage and Local Government as well as the Department of Finance – was briefed on developments at Anne’s Grove and in 2008 all relevant parties agreed the IHT would assume responsibility for its first estate thanks to an endowment fund of €5 million (drawn from its National Development Plan funding) and associated tax credits. Then in December 2008, the department’s minister wrote to the IHT advising that due to changing circumstances it would not be possible to provide the necessary support. The IHT has since successfully reinvented itself, but the fact remains that there is still no equivalent of the National Trust in Ireland, and historic properties, along with their contents, continue to be lost because of want of state support for their survival. Today’s photographs show the empty interiors of Howth Castle, sold in 2019 after being occupied for more than 800 years by the same family. The house’s remaining contents were dispersed at public auction two years ago in September 2021. Unless there is a change in state policy towards these properties, and towards the histories they contain, more such sales will occur in the years ahead. And we will continue to be the poorer. 

Beaten by the Wind and Covered with Rime


‘. . . A wise man will perceive how mysterious will be the time when the wealth of all this age will lie waste, just as now in diverse places throughout the earth walls are standing beaten by the wind and covered with rime. The bulwarks are dismantled, the banqueting halls are ruinous…’



‘…He then who in a spirit of meditation has pondered over this ruin, and who with an understanding heart probes the mystery of our life down to its depth, will call to mind many slaughters of long ago, and give voice to such words as these: What has become of the steed, of the squire?…’ 



 ‘…What has become of the banqueting houses? Where are the joys of the hall? O shining goblet! O mailed warriorl O glory of the prince! How has that time passed away, grown shadowy under the canopy of night as though it had never been! There remains now of the beloved knights no trace save the wall wondrously high, decorated with serpent forms…’ 


Text from an early medieval Saxon poem The Wanderer
Images of an abandoned house in County Meath

Early Industry


The former flour mills at Shrule, County Longford. Rising adjacent to the river Inny and thought to date from the start of the 19th century, it appears to be a rare example of an early industrial premises in this part of the country. Samuel Lewis, in his Topographical Dictionary of Ireland (1837), wrote that it annually produced around 4,000 barrels of flour. The business must have been successful because around 1850 a five-storey extension was added to the existing L-shaped building. However, the mills appear to have closed down at the start of the last century and the entire complex is now roofless and empty. 

Just a Skeleton



The skeleton of the former Roman Catholic chapel in Hugginstown, County Kilkenny. This building was constructed c.1800, in other words almost three decades before Catholic Emancipation, and had an interior that preserved its original decoration, a rare survivor from that period. However, as so often is the case, this was judged to be outdated and forty years ago the church was put out of service, with  a singularly unimpressive replacement erected elsewhere in the village. The interior was subsequently dismantled and the roof removed, so that today only the shell seen here remains.