Tag Archives: Heritage at Risk

Offering Harbour Views



There appears to be little information about the origins or history of Harbourhill Lodge which, as its name implies, overlooks the little harbour at Newquay, County Clare. Of three bays and two storeys over raised basement, this is one of a number of such properties constructed along the coast in the late 18th/early 19th centuries as occasional homes for landowners whose main estates were elsewhere. It appears on the first Ordnance Survey map (published 1842) and was subsequently listed as being let to the Rev Michael J O’Fea by John Bindon Scott, whose family owned the Cahercon estate at the other end of the county. Ruined in the aftermath of the Great Famine, the Scotts sold up and left Ireland, and it is known that at the beginning of the last century Harbourhill Lodge had become a barracks for the Royal Irish Constabulary. Presumably dereliction began after the War of Independence, and now a hollow shell stands overlooking the harbour at Newquay.


Commodious and Comfortable



‘As soon as I got hither, I ran to my building, and had the pleasure to find every thing very well…The Scaffolding is all down, and the House almost pointed, and It’s figure is vastly more beautiful than I expected it would be. Conceited people may censure its plainness. But I don’t wish it any further ornament than it has. As far as I can judge, the inside will be very commodious, and comfortable. Were it finish’d and season’d, I could wish you here this minute. But I hope we may yet pass some pleasant days together in it.’ Edward Synge, Bishop of Elphin, writing to his daughter Alicia in May 1747 about the new episcopal palace he was then building in Elphin, County Roscommon. Believed to have been designed by Dublin architect Michael Wills, the house was a typical example of Irish Palladianism, with a three-storey, three-bay block flanked by quadrants leading to two-storey wings. The main building survived until 1911 when destroyed by fire and was subsequently demolished, leaving a gap in the centre of the composition. Today the north wing stands a ruin behind a bungalow while the south wing has been restored as a residence. To the left of this are the remains of a Gothick gatelodge and its former gates, presumably the original entrance to the property. 


Unhappy Statistics


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




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




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

Wasting our Resources


According to the 1899 edition of Burke’s Landed Gentry of Ireland, in the 1620s a Dutch general called Wibrantz Olphertzen came to Ireland and settled in County Donegal, buying property from Captain Henry Harte who had been granted lands in this part of the country as a reward for his loyalty to the English government during the Ulster Plantation. Successive generations of the family lived in the same spot, an estate called Ballyconnell which lay just a short distance north of the village of Falcarragh. Invariably the heirs were called either John or, in memory of their Dutch forebear, Wybrants, marrying locally and usually passing their lives unnoticed beyond the immediate area. In the late 1880s, however, Wybrants Olphert, a Justice of the Peace and Deputy Lieutenant of the county, came to international prominence when he began to evict tenants from his estate due to non-payment of rent. Although Olphert’s property ran to 18,133 acres, the poor quality of land here meant it was valued at only 1,802 and in 1885 rent arrears ran to £1,200; his creditors therefore urged him to evict tenants who had failed to pay. However, in 1886, Home Rule supporters initiated the Plan of Campaign, which  called on tenants to withhold payment on estates where owners refused to reduce rents. This is what now took place on the Olphert estate, with the tenants’ cause championed by the local parish priest, James McFadden and his curate Daniel Stephens (both men were jailed for a period). Meanwhile, the Chief Secretary for Ireland, Arthur Balfour, provided support for Olphert; at one stage, police maintained a 24-hour watch over the estate. Eventually, as the Plan of Campaign petered out in the aftermath of Parnell’s political collapse, resistance from tenants on the Olphert estate, as elsewhere, came to a close as did the evictions, although as so often the conflict left a long and bitter memory.





Looking at the Olpherts’ former residence in Ballyconnell, it is difficult to work out when work on the site began, a situation not helped by the many substantial extensions built around the old house in the second half of the last century. As already mentioned, the family are said to have purchased the land on which it stands in the 1620s, so perhaps something of a 17th century structure remains here. The main block is customarily believed to date from around the middle of the 18th century: the date 1763 is often proposed. This would appear to have been a long, two-storey house of five bays, possibly more (ie. taking in those parts of the building that now feature projecting gable ends). In the 19th century – c.1840 has been suggested – modifications were made to the house, when its east-facing facade was dickied up with the addition of a sandstone porch flanked by canted bay windows, all on the ground floor. The Olphert crest and motto “Dum Spiro Spero” (“While I Breathe, I Hope”) can be seen on the porch’s central armorial plaque. Hood mouldings were placed above windows on the gable-ended wings, the upper windows were also given cast-iron balconies. The architect responsible for these loosely-Tudorbethan alterations is unknown; given how superficial they are, perhaps no trained architect was employed. There are further extensions to the rear, but this area is now such a hopeless muddle that it is difficult to ascribe any date to them. 





The Olphert family remained in possession of, if not necessarily in residence at, Ballyconnell until 1917 when Sir John Olphert, son of the aforementioned Wybrants Olphert, died. Along with some 15,611 it was then bought by the Congested Districts Board for £20,620. The building was occupied first by the Irish Republican Brotherhood in 1921 and then by the Free State Army in 1922 during the Civil War, after which it was sold to the Office of Public Works for £7,000. In 1927 Ballyconnell was offered to the Loreto Order of nuns, which in 1927 who altered and extended the house, and opened a preparatory College, Coláiste Bhríde, for the education of female primary school teachers. Alterations and additions to the house took place during this period, with more following after the property was bought by the Catholic Diocese of Raphoe in 1961. Four years later, it opened as a secondary boarding school for boys and continued to serve this purpose until 1986. A year later, the place was sold again, this time being purchased by Udarás na Gaeltachta (a public sector authority responsible for the economic, social and cultural development of the Gaeltacht, that is parts of the country where Irish is the dominant language). This organisation used Ballyconnell as a Gaeltacht school\Irish college for some time, but then left the buildings empty, in which state they have remained ever since. Since 1996 part of the demesne has been laid out as a nine-hole golf course and earlier this year, the club running this facility lodged an application with the local authority for the removal of existing temporary buildings on the site and the erection of a new clubhouse (rather than renovating some of the very extensive existing structures here). Meanwhile, thanks to an initiative by local residents, the surrounding woodland which was laid out with many specimen trees in the 19th century has been developed for walkers/runners in the area. In the midst of all this sits the pathetic sight of Ballyconnell falling every further into decay. Ten years ago, in 2014, there was talk of the property being used as an addiction centre run by a Roman Catholic organisation, but that plan came to nothing. And nothing seems to be what has happened since. As so often with historic buildings in the care of official bodies – like the Health Service Executive and Coillte –  Udarás na Gaeltachta appears untroubled that a property for which it is responsible should stand neglected and ruinous. A shocking, but not unusual, waste of our resources. 

Held Hostage



Gortnaclea Castle, County Laois is a 16th century tower house originally built by the Mac Giolla Phádraig family on a site overlooking the Gully river. It is famous for having been the place where in April 1600 Thomas Butler, 10th Earl of Ormond, a long-time ally of the English crown but by then aged almost 70, was held hostage by Owny MacRory O’More. At the end of the month, O’More sent his demands to the government, which included the removal of all English garrisons from that part of the country. This stipulation – and sundry others – were not met but the earl, by then in poor health, was eventually released after the payment of £3,000 (and lived for another 16 years). Of five storeys, Gortnaclea is a typical tower house of the period but unfortunately its easterly entrance front has long since collapsed, bringing down the spiral staircase which would have been immediately inside the main door; the graceful curving wall of the staircase can be seen on the north-east corner.


A Picturesque Feature in the Landscape


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




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




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

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.’