Tag Archives: Historic Interiors

Little Changed


The origins of the Baker family in Ireland are unclear, but it would seem that Thomas Baker, an Englishman, came here and settled, likely in the first decades of the 17th century. Based in Knockordan, County Tipperary, he came to rent large areas of farmland in the vicinity, running to more than 3,730 acres, from local Roman Catholic owners. Disaster befell both them and their tenant in 1641 with the onset of the Confederate Wars: in the case of Baker and his family, they were besieged by the rebels and, following his death in February 1642, forced to surrender everything they had, down to their ‘wearing apparel’, before the family – a widow with six children – were turned out of doors. As for the owners of the land that Baker had rented, they too lost their property, divided up following the Down Survey in the following decade. However, because Thomas had loaned money to some of his landlords on the security of mortgages they had taken out against the properties he rented from them, his son Walter was able to lay claim to some of what had been lost and, in the years after the Restoration of 1660, the Bakers regained outright some of what had once been held only in leasehold. Thereafter they seem to have prospered and in October 1704, William Baker, a great-grandson of the original Thomas, purchased from Charles Blount – a grandson of one of the Down Survey commissioners – the lands on which Lismacue House now stands for the sum of £923. The original residence, long since gone, was one of the largest in this part of the country and with five hearths incurring a tax of 10 shillings, according to the 1665 hearth-money records.





Approached at the end of a long avenue of lime trees planted in the mid-18th century by Hugh Baker, the present house at Lismacue replaced an earlier residence elsewhere on the estate. This building was commissioned in 1813 by Hugh’s grandson William from Kilkenny architect William Robertson. However, the owner was not able to enjoy his new home for long because a short time later he was murdered. As reported by the Rev. William Burke in his History of Clonmel (1907), ‘The event, however, which stirred the county to its depths was the murder of William Baker of Lismacue. Returning from Cashel Sessions, November 27th, 1815, he was met by two men at the gates of Thomastown Park and shot through the head. Though a reward of £5,000 was offered, and though scores of suspected persons were lodged in the bridewells, the secret which was known to hundreds, was long kept and the efforts of the Crown baffled.’ Eventually, it seems, two men called Keating and Maher were imprisoned in Cahir where the former ‘through connivance or otherwise’, obtained some whisky which apparently loosened tongues. Their conversation being overheard, Keating was subsequently induced to give evidence, and Maher was hanged. Since the murdered man had no children, Lismacue was then inherited by his nephew, Hugh Baker who was still a minor at the time. He and his wife Marion Conyers were responsible for finishing the interiors now seen in the house. After his death in 1868, he was succeeded by his son, also called Hugh, but when the latter in turn died in 1887, the family almost lost everything as a result of needful land sales. Fortunately, the third Hugh’s widow, Frances Massy, remarried and her second husband, Major Ralph Bunbury, was able to buy Lismacue and the surrounding lands for what was described as a ‘low price’ so that the Bakers could continue to live there. Eventually, following the major’s death, his siblings transferred the place ‘on generous terms’ to one of the third Hugh’s sons, Charles Conyers Massy Baker. Today, Lismacue continues to be occupied by his descendants. 





Designed in a mildly Tudorbethan style, Lismacue’s exterior is ornamented with hood mouldings over the windows, and dainty crenellations and pinnacles along the roofline. Of two storeys over-basement, the facade is three bays wide, the centre bay distinguished by a single-storey limestone Gothick porch supported by columns. A service wing to the immediate north looks as though it concludes in a chapel, since the gable here holds a large arched window with Gothick tracery. However, this is illusory, since the interior is divided into several floors. Inside, the same restrained use of Gothick ornament prevails, but the overall tone is late Georgian classical. Many of the main reception rooms still contain wallpapers first hung in the 1830s and indeed, the charm of Lismacue is precisely that, ever since built, successive owners have never been in a position to undertake largescale alterations. Little changed since first constructed, in spirit and style, it still retains the style and spirit of an early 19th century Irish country house.

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At Peace


The Echlin family has been mentioned here before (see Lost Heritage « The Irish Aesthete). The first of them to settle in Ireland was Robert Echlin, a Scots-born clergyman who in 1612 was appointed Bishop of Down and Connor by James I. His great-grandson Henry Echlin, a judge and bibliophile, was created a baronet four years prior to his death in 1725. The family continued to thrive for a period, but already before the end of the 18th century, much of their fortune had been dissipated and by the time the third baronet died in 1799 without a direct male heir, not a great deal remained. Nevertheless, in circumstances reminiscent of Bleak House’s Jarndyce V Jarndyce, in 1827 the fourth baronet, Sir James Echlin became involved in a complex legal dispute. By the time the matter eventually concluded in 1850, Sir James was dead and legal fees had swallowed up all the money. As Sir Bernard Burke noted in Vicissitudes of Families, Volume II (1869), ‘the litigation went on year after year; the lawyers enjoyed it amazingly; they chuckled and punned, and cracked jokes about it. To them it was food and raiment; to the Echlin family, death and destitution.’ Sir Bernard went on to quote a letter written in June 1860 by the Rector of Carbury, County Kildare concerning the fifth baronet, Sir Frederick Echlin, who lived in the parish: ‘Sir Frederick can neither read nor write, and his brother is also quite an illiterate and uneducated man…He is now upwards of seventy, and utterly destitute, his only means of support being two shillings and sixpence a week, which I allow him out of our collection for the poor, together with occasional donations from Christian persons in this neighbourhood, and contributions which I get for him from my friends’ Since he was unmarried, the baronetcy passed to his younger brother Fenton, who also lived in County Kildare, ‘deriving his only support from contributions from his sons, very deserving young men, one a Policeman, another a private in the Life Guards, and the third a Footman.’ The policeman, a sergeant in the Royal Irish Constabulary and based in the Phoenix Park in Dublin, in due course became Sir Thomas Echlin, seventh baronet. Aside from the title, he inherited little  other than some family memorabilia, including a number of portraits, an oak box containing parchments, records, and deeds to the former estates and a sword used by Lieutenant General Robert Echlin at the Battle of the Boyne. The last of the baronets, Sir Norman Echlin, died on the Isle of Wight in April 2007. 





Not all members of the Echlin family suffered such serious reversals of fortune. In December 1804 Anne Echlin, described as a spinster and living in a house on St Stephen’s Green, Dublin died and left a will indicating that she owned property in County Galway, ‘estates in the North of Ireland’ and an estate in County Carlow. While the Galway and Northern Irish estates went to two cousins, Dublin barrister George Vesey and the Rev. George Vesey, the Carlow land was bequeathed to Robert Marshall and then to his wife Frances Marshall, a sister of the Rev George Vesey. The Veseys were cousins of Anne Echlin, her grandmother Frances Vesey having married Robert Echlin. However the Marshalls did not receive their inheritance outright since the will specified, ‘I have let to my friend Clement Wolsely, Esq., the house and demesne of Sandbrook, part of said Carlow estate, consisting of 165 acres for 61 years at the annual rent of 40/- by the acre, which agreement is to be confirmed.’ Just a few years later, in 1808 the Marshalls sold the entire property formerly owned by Anne Echlin, running to some 500 acres and including Sandbrook, for £488. The new owner was Robert Browne of nearby Browne’s Hill (see Escaping the Wreckers’ Ball « The Irish Aesthete) and while the Wolseleys continued to own and occupy Sandbrook until at least the middle of the 19th century, by 1888 it was occupied by Robert Clayton Browne. However, early in the 20th century, it belonged to an army man, Colonel (later Brigadier General) Bridges George Lewis before becoming home to Brigadier Arthur George Rolleston. In 1960 he sold the house and 85 acres to John and Mary Allnatt. Sandbrook was then inherited by Mrs Allnatt’s son before being bought in 1997 by the present owner, Christopher Bielenberg, who now lives there with his wife, interior designer Arabella Huddart.  





From the exterior, Sandbrook looks like a larger house than proves to be the case, the main body of the building being just one room deep. This suggests an early date of construction, likely during the first quarter of the 18th century when the building was only of five bays and two storeys over basement, a further two bays being added at either side in the 19th century, perhaps when owned and occupied by the Brownes. The central breakfront bay is delineated by quoins and features a pediment incorporating an oculus. Below, the simple granite doorcase (its more substantial lintel again being a later insertion) gives access to the panelled entrance hall with fluted Ionic pilasters and doors with shouldered architraves. A gable-ended extension to the rear accommodates the staircase with shallow treads and fluted balusters.  The reception rooms opening on either side of the hall are more simply designed, although they all have fine chimneypieces of various dates. As seen today, Sandbrook, which is available for hire for the likes of family gatherings or weddings, is relaxed, comfortable and peaceful. Hard to believe that it might ever have been associated, however tangentially, with the turmoil of the Echlin family.


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Remembrance of Things Past



Recently going through the ever-expanding collection of photographs, the Irish Aesthete came across a cache, taken some years ago and showing Drummin, County Kildare. Until his death five years ago, this house was home to the hospitable Grattan de Courcy Wheeler, whose many lunches and dinners, prepared by an ever-loyal housekeeper Mary, were renowned for their length and liveliness. Grattan was a throwback to the kind of 18th century landed gentleman described with various degrees of delight and disapproval by the likes of Sir Jonah Barrington, Arthur Young and many others. Drummin too seemed to belong to an earlier age, certainly many modern comforts were not to be found there but that rarely deterred guests from accepting an invitation to visit and, if the evening went on too late (and the claret was poured too liberally), to stay overnight. 





Its name derived from the Irish Droim Mín, meaning ‘Little Ridge of a Hill’, Drummin dates from the mid-18th century, a lease for some 580 acres of land here being taken out in 1746 by the Rev Richard Grattan: in 1840 this lease would be renewed for three lives by his grandson Dr Richard Grattan. The Grattans of Drummin were related to Ireland’s famous parliamentary patriot, Henry Grattan, both branches seemingly descended from the Rev Patrick Grattan of Belcamp, County Dublin: two of the Rev Patrick’s sons, Robert and John, also both clergymen, were executors of the will of Jonathan Swift, a family friend. As for Drummin, the original house was of two storeys over basement and with a rendered facade of three bays (five bays to the garden front). It is thought that the centre breakfront originally contained the main entrance to the building (where an arched window is now) but in the 19th century single bay extensions were added to either side, that to the north containing a new entrance hall. According to legend, when the house was first being constructed, a curse was put on the place that no eldest son would succeed his father, and indeed this is what came to pass while the Grattans owned the property. The aforementioned Dr Richard Grattan, a distinguished Dublin physician, had two sons, one of whom died at the age of 15, the other at the age of 22. Drummin was therefore inherited by the doctor’s daughters, Anne and Elizabeth, and, following the former’s death, the house and estate, which by then ran to 2,000 acres, passed to Robert ‘Diamond’ de Courcy Wheeler, a doctor who served as Chief Medical Officer to the British army in Malta during the First World War. 





Robert de Courcy Wheeler does not appear to have spent too much time in Drummin, living for many years in south Dublin. In 1939 the property was inherited by his son, Cecil de Courcy Wheeler who, when the Land Commission broke up the old estate, established a successful mushroom growing business on what land he still retained. In due course, Drummin passed to his son, Grattan and following the latter’s retirement from many years working in banking in England and the United States, he settled in the house and, as already mentioned, embarked on some two decades of entertaining his wide circle of friends. Little was done to the place, with rooms always rather higgledy-piggledy and heating something of a rarity: on winter nights, guests could be found jostling for a place in front of the drawing room fire. Some time after Grattan de Courcy’s death, Drummin was sold. Now in new ownership, no doubt it will undergo some changes and necessary improvements. But these pictures are a souvenir of how it used to look, a remembrance of things past.



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One of the Prettiest and Most Striking Objects to be seen on the River Lee


‘About half-past two o’clock on Tuesday morning, Blackrock Castle was observed to be on fire, and in a few minutes presented a very imposing sight. The waters were illuminated, and the surrounding hills completely lit, presenting more the appearance of noon-day than of a dark night. Immediately after the cupola blazed with the greatest splendour, the heavy leads caught fire and sent to the river a liquid body of burning lead, the concussion between the red-hot lead and water sending forth a crash resembling the noise of artillery; the rain which fell about the time on the burning lead roof, yielding a noise like the fire of musketry. The whole presented a grand and awful sight, and continued burning with unabated fury for upwards of three hours. The roof has completely disappeared, and the timbers in the wall were burning this morning at seven o’clock. Fortunately, the inmates escaped unhurt. Had the wind been in another direction, the surrounding houses would probably have been destroyed. The fire is supposed to have been caused by a slate having broken the glass of the river light which is kept on Blackrock Castle for the use of ships, and the fire caught the roof.’
Dublin Morning Register, March 2nd 1827. 





Located on a limestone outcrop in the river Lee to the immediate east of Cork city, Blackrock Castle was originally built in the early 1580s and maintained by the local burghers according to a contemporary document, ‘to resist pirates and other invasion’ (it should be remembered that as late as 1631, the coastal village of Baltimore, further to the west was sacked by pirates and more than 100 of its residents carried off into slavery in Algiers). The first castle was little more than a watch tower which also served to help guide ships into Cork harbour. However, in the early 17th century, Ireland’s Lord Deputy Charles Blount, Lord Mountjoy caused the building to be enlarged and reinforced, with walls over seven feet thick and the main circular tower having a diameter of some 34 and a half feet. Returned by James I to the citizenry of Cork in 1608,  this structure held artillery intended to repel any would-be invaders venturing up the river. In 1722, the castle was damaged by fire and, according to Charles Smith’s Ancient and Present State of the County and City of Cork (1750), the corporation spent £296 refurbishing the building, this work including the creation of ‘a very handsome octagon room, from whence is a delightful prospect of the harbour, from Passage to Cork.’ Here, according to Smith, ‘the mayors of Cork hold an admiralty court, being, by several charters, appointed admirals of the harbour.’ In addition, on the first day of August each year, the mayor and corporation held an ‘entertainment’ in the building, ‘at the charge of the city.’ Such remained the case until February 27th when a serious fire, as described above in the Dublin Morning Register, largely destroyed the old castle. 




In December 1827, Cork Corporation voted a sum of £800, and the Harbour Commissioners a further £200 towards the cost of rebuilding Blackrock Castle. The job was entrusted to architect siblings James and George Pain, both pupils of John Nash,  who had each come to Ireland during the previous decade and established thriving practices. As designed by the Pains and completed within two years, Blackrock Castle looks like a medieval fortress, its dominant feature being a large circular tower to which is attached a much more slender and somewhat taller turret: the latter continued to have navigation lights on its roof to aid shipping. Around the tower, a series of battlemented walls enclose a courtyard, helping to confirm the image of a romantic gothic castle. Despite being described in the Journal of the Cork Historical and Archaeological Society in 1914 as ‘one of the prettiest and most striking objects to be seen on the river Lee’, the building thereafter suffered from neglect for much of the last century,. It was leased to a professor of botany in the 1930s and then sold in the 1960s to a group of local businessmen, after which it served as a bar, a restaurant,  commercial offices and, for one period, as a private residence. In 2001 Blackrock Castle was bought back by Cork Corporation for IR£825,000 and a programme of restoration was undertaken. For almost 20 years, the building has housed an observatory run by Munster Technological University and laboratories staffed by astronomical researchers from the same institution. Although open to the public and hosting exhibitions, because the castle always served practical purposes, internally there is little of decorative interest, other than a fine limestone chimneypiece from the second quarter of the 17th century and originally in a since-demolished house called Ronayne’s Court. Better to rejoice in the handsome exterior, with the waters of the river Lee washing against a sequence of towers and turrets.


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First Fruits



Glebe: land granted to a member of the clergy as part of a benefice. Etymology: derives from the Middle English word ‘glebe’, which in turn came from the Old French ‘glèbe’, and ultimately from the Latin word ‘gleba’ or ‘glaeba’, meaning ‘clod of earth’ or ‘soil’.
As indicated above, glebes were parcels of land provided for members of the clergy within the parish for which they were responsible. And, in the post-Reformation period, clergymen of the Established Church were supposed to be provided with suitable residences on that land. However, for various reasons, not least lay impropriations of former church property during the upheavals of the late 16th and 17th centuries, by 1700 many parishes suffered from a want of glebe land and glebe houses alike. In consequence, they were unable to support a resident clergyman. In order to have an adequate income, some clerics came to hold a number of benefices, but only reside in one of them, leading to inevitable neglect of the others and to complaints that parishes (and parishioners) were suffering from a want of attention. In 1693 Bishop Dopping of Meath suggested one reason for widespread clerical non-residence lay in ‘the want of Gleabs in some places, and in all the decay of manse houses by the frequent Warrs in the Kingdome.’ Similarly, in 1720 Bishop Henry Downes of Elphin wrote that there was only one clerical residence within his diocese, and that was occupied by the dean. As a result, he declared, clergymen who wanted to live within their parishes, ‘generally take little Farms that they may have within themselves all Necessarys…they for ye most part want Glebes to build on, what they had of yt kind being very much swallowed up in Connaught during ye times of Rebellion & Confusion.’ 





By the start of the 18th century, the pitiful plight of the Established Church in Ireland, especially the poor state of its churches and clerical residences, led to the establishment by government in 1711 of the Board of First Fruits; its equivalent in England, set up seven years earlier, was known as Queen Anne’s Bounty. The board directed that the first fruits or ‘annates’ – that is the first year’s income of a clergyman occupying a new position – were paid into a fund which was then used to build or restore churches and glebe houses, as well as purchase appropriate glebe lands. During the first 70 years of its existence, the board purchased glebe lands for benefices around the country at a total cost of £3,543. In addition, it assisted the building of forty-five glebe houses with gifts of £4,080. These figures greatly increased from 1791 thanks to annual parliamentary grants. Over the following 12 years, the Board of First Fruits spent £55,600 on building 88 churches and 116 glebe houses. The sums grew larger in the decades following the Act of Union and further government grants: in total, £807,648 was provided to purchase glebe lands in 193 benefices, with the construction of 550 glebe houses, and building, rebuilding or enlargement of 697 churches. By 1832 some 829 glebe houses had been built across Ireland, but this activity came largely to a halt the following year with the passing of the Church Temporalities Act, which led to the functions and income of the Board of First Fruits being passed to a new body, the Board of Ecclesiastical Commissioners. 





Today’s pictures show the former glebe house of the parish of Rathkeale, County Limerick. In his Topographical Dictionary of Ireland (1837), Samuel Lewis advised that the building had been constructed in 1819 ‘by aid of a gift of £100, and a loan of £1500 from the late Board of First Fruits.’ Furthermore, the glebe lands ran to 10 acres, half of them attached to the glebe house, the other half adjoining an earlier clerical residence closer to the centre of the town. The glebe house’s first occupant was Charles Warburton, Rector of Rathkeale, as well as Chancellor of the Diocese of Limerick (and indeed, Rector of Clonmel, County Tipperary). Warburton’s family background is curious. His paternal grandfather, Dominic Mungan (1715-1774) was a famous blind harpist from County Tyrone. The youngest of Mungan’s three sons, Terence Mongan, originally trained to become a Roman Catholic priest but appears to have converted to the Anglican faith after being appointed a chaplain of the 62nd Regiment of Foot in the British army during the American War of Independence. Changing his name to Charles Mongan, he subsequently married a well-connected New Yorker Frances Marston, with whom he had four sons. The couple and their children returned to Ireland in 1786 where Mongan, who adopted the surname Warburton by royal licence in 1792, enjoyed rapid promotion within the Established Church, serving as Dean of Ardagh and then Clonmacnoise before being appointed Bishop of Limerick in 1806. He would be translated to Cloyne in 1820, dying in office six years later. It was his third son, likewise called Charles, born in New York in 1780, who was the first resident of the new Rathkeale glebe house, a handsome square block of two storeys over basement, with a three-bay east-facing facade, the central doorcase having fan and sidelights. The property also has adjacent yards, with coach houses and stabling for eight horses, as well as a walled garden running to more than an acre. The original 19th century Ordnance Survey map shows that there were once two gate lodges, one to the north, the other to the east, but are now lost. Internally, the house conforms to what would be expected of a rural residence of the period, the most striking decorative feature being the staircase hall, divided into two parts by a screen of Ionic columns. Long since sold by the Church of Ireland, the former glebe house is privately owned and much cherished by its current proprietor.



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This Magnificent Building


The Irish line of the Esmonde family is believed to be descended from Geoffrey de Estmont of Lincolnshire, one of the thirty Norman knights who accompanied Robert FitzStephen to land at Bannow, County Wexford in 1169. Seemingly, Estmont built a motte and bailey at Lymbrick in the Barony of Forth in Wexford, where his son Maurice constructed a castle on the same site. Following the latter’s death in 1225, this building was abandoned, his son John erecting another castle on a new site, which came to be named Johnstown Castle and which survived until 1945. The property remained in the possession of the Esmondes until the mid-17th century when, as members of the Roman Catholic Confederate alliance, they suffered expulsion: Oliver Cromwell is said to have spent a night here immediately prior to his forces sacking Wexford town in early October 1649. Johnstown Castle was subsequently granted to one of his troops, Colonel John Overstreet, but eventually in 1692 it was bought by John Grogan whose descendants lived there until 1945: in the early 1800s, the Grogans were the largest untitled landowners in Ireland, with estates running to some 20,000 acres. Presumably they occupied and perhaps enlarged a house already on the site, but no evidence of it is immediately apparent today, so thorough was the reordering of the building in the second quarter of the 19th century. Before then, one member of the family, Cornelius Grogan, became involved in the 1798 Rebellion, being made commissary-general of the local rebels;’ army. Whether he assumed this role voluntarily or under compulsion has remained open to question: at his trial, Grogan pleaded that he had been forced to take a nominal lead but had committed no overt act of treason. However, this was insufficient to stop his being hanged and beheaded, and for the Johnstown estate to be escheated by the British authorities: on payment of a substantial fine, it was recovered by the former owner’s youngest brother John Grogan.





As seen today (and visited on a singularly miserable, wet day), Johnstown Castle is largely the creation of John Grogan’s son Hamilton Knox Grogan-Morgan who in 1836 commissioned designs for both the building and its gardens from Daniel Robertson, although in Home Sketches (1852), Thomas Lacy wrote that the now-lost main staircase had been the work of English-born Thomas Hopper. Meanwhile, at Johnstown, Robertson appears to have been assisted by Wexford architect Martin Day, who signed many of the preparatory drawings for the building. A late exercise in fanciful Gothick, most of the castle is constructed of local shale, with the Carlow granite employed for quoins, and dressings around windows, doors and archways. The aforementioned Thomas Lacy devoted several pages to enthusing over the transformed castle, summarising it as ‘this magnificent building.’ Despite claiming that he dared not attempt a detailed description of its ‘elegantly furnished rooms, the ceilings, the rich and gorgeous papering, the magnificent curtains and drapery in general,; the mantlepieces and articles of vertu that ornament them; the splendid mirrors, the vases, the candelabra, the tables, chairs, sofas, ottomans, and the other indescribable articles,’ somehow Lacy managed to wax lyrical for several pages. The main hall, for example, he wrote ‘presents a massive and truly characteristic appearance; so much so, that if an intelligent person was brought thither in his sleep, he would, upon awaking, be at once convinced that he was within the hall of some grand castle or stately palace.’ In the library, ‘The furniture of this grand apartment is in keeping with its character; the chairs, sofas, tables and bookcases are all of the choicest and best description; this is such a room as Bacon, Newton, Locke or Walter Scott, would like to call his own.’ Of the dining room he declared, ‘oak panelling and carving can be seen; the darkness of the oak is finely relieved by the rich gilding of the ceiling and the other parts of the chamber. This room has a really gorgeous appearance, and reminds one of the House of Lords, which, in some measure, it resembles both in form and decoration.’ And so, despite protestations of inability to attempt an adequate description, Lacy goes on, room after room after room. 





Following Hamilton Knox Grogan-Morgan’s death, his widow Sophia married Sir Thomas Esmonde, so that, at least temporarily, the Johnstown estate reverted to the original family. The property was then inherited by the Grogan-Morgan’s elder daughter Jane, married to George Forbes, seventh Earl of Granard. In turn, Johnstown passed to the couple’s younger daughter Adelaide, wife of Lord Maurice FitzGerald, a younger son of the fourth Duke of Leinster. Following her death in 1942, the estate was inherited by her grandson Maurice Victor Lakin. Two years later, the contents of the castle, running to 1,187 lots, were sold at auction over a period of five days by Jackson, Stops & McCabe. Some 114 of the items on offer, about one-tenth of the total, were bought by the Office of Public Works, not least because in certain cases there were few other potential purchasers. For example, according to a contemporary report in the Irish Press, ‘It was hard to find bidders for some of the massive oak furniture. An oak side table on carved pillars, 7ft long, brought only £5 and the same sum bought the carved oak pedestal sideboard.’ Happily the majority of these lots can be seen in the building today. In 1945 the Johnstown estate was given to the Irish State by Maurice Lakin in lieu of death duties. The castle itself was taken over the the Department of Agriculture and initially served as an educational college, before becoming a centre for agricultural research, with laboratories established on site. Since 1976, an agricultural museum has operated in the yards. Less hearteningly, during the second half of the last century some serious losses occurred, not least the medieval tower attached to the front of the building: a residue from the original Esmonde era, it stood to the immediate left of the porte-cochère but was swept away soon after the property passed into state hands. Inside the castle, the greatest loss was the demolition of the magnificent Imperial staircase, a confection of neo-Gothic carving, cleared out to make way for a library for the college. Today, while the building is owned by Teagasc, Ireland’s Agriculture and Food Development Authority, it is managed by the Irish Heritage Trust which for the past decade has been gradually undertaking restoration work here, as funds permit. In addition, the IHT, which opens the castle to the public, has been refurbishing some of the main rooms, thanks to a mixture of purchases, loans and gifts, with some pieces now returned to their original home. A happier story than has often been the case for Irish country houses. 


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Look Up



The extraordinary ceiling in the drawing room of Fota House, County Cork. This part of the building dates from the mid-1820s when Sir Richard Morrison was employed by Fota’s owner, John Smith-Barry. The plasterwork, which had deep borders of floral wreaths containing birds alternating with lozenges of bay leaves containing trophies of musical instruments and hunting paraphernalia, bears similarities with what can be seen at Ballyfin, County Laois where the same architect was employed. However, unlike the latter where the ceilings are predominantly monochrome, at Fota the Dublin firm of Henry Sibthorpe & Son was hired towards the end of the 19th century to decorate both the drawing room and its adjacent ante room, gilding the borders while the main surface was covered with an elaborate multi-coloured scheme, partly painted and partly stencilled. 



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Something of a Rarity



Originally from Yorkshire, in 1657 Montifort Westropp settled in Limerick city and three years later was comptroller of the port there. Subsequently he purchased various parcels of land in Co. Clare where he held the office of High Sheriff in 1674 and 1690, as well as being appointed a Commissioner for the county by an Act of Irish Parliament in 1697. Following his death the following year, several of his sons continued to prosper: one son, also called Montifort – a forebear of the antiquarian Thomas Johnson Westropp – purchased the Attyflin estate near Patrickswell, County Limerick from the Chichester House Commissioners in 1703, and the same year, another son, Thomas Westropp bought an estate in the same county at Ballysteen. Some kind of castle or tower house evidently stood here, but it was replaced by the present building in the last quarter of the 18th century, perhaps by the original Thomas’s grandson (also called Thomas) who died in 1789.





Following Thomas Westropp’s death in 1789, the Ballysteen estate was inherited by his only surviving son, General John Westropp. However, when he died in 1825 without issue, Ballysteen reverted to one of the children of his sister Sara who in 1775 had married Colonel Thomas Odell of Ballingarry, County Limerick. The couple’s third son, Edmond, duly inherited his uncle’s estate and changed his name to Westropp. His grandson Edward also had no son but two daughters, one of whom, Elizabeth, in 1942 married Maurice Talbot, son of the Dean of Cashel and himself, from 1954, Dean of Limerick. Ballysteen was in due course inherited by the present generation of the family who have, for the first time in its history, offered the property for sale. 





As seen today, Ballysteen is a two-storey, five-bay house, with east-facing rendered facade and a west-facing, four-bay garden front, as well as lower two-storey wings on either side of the main block. Internally, the house appears to have been last undergone alterations around 1820, or perhaps soon after 1825 when it was inherited by Edmond Odell Westropp. To the front, much of the space is taken up by a substantial, three-bay entrance hall, with the staircase in an adjacent area to the immediate north. Behind the entrance are the two principal reception rooms, drawing and dining, and all three have white marble chimneypieces typical of the late-18th/early 19th century. They also retain some mahogany furniture from the same period: the dining room, for example, has a pair of arched niches each of which holds an identical buffet with slender spiral twist legs, while the entrance hall has a pair of bookcases with similar decorative detail, suggesting they all came from the same workshop at the same time. A sitting room/library is accommodated in the south wing while the kitchen, pantry, scullery and so forth, together with the service staircase, can be found in its northern equivalent. Upstairs are six bedrooms, some with dressing rooms. Thanks to being left unaltered for so long, Ballysteen retains the appearance and character of an Irish country house once widespread but today something of a rarity. One must hope that whoever is fortunate to acquire the property, while updating some of the facilities, retains that wonderful character. It is too precious to lose.



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Another Gratifying Example



Following the Restoration of Charles II in 1660, Captain George Pepper was confirmed by the crown in ownership of Ballygarth Castle, County Meath, a property that had hitherto belonged to the Netterville family. However, by the second half of the 18th century, one branch of the Peppers had settled in County Offaly where, in 1777 they commissioned a new residence called Loughton. Facing north across sweeping parkland, as originally constructed, the house had its entrance located in a central canted bay with two bays on either side, and probably looking not unlike Newhall, County Clare (see New Blood for New Hall « The Irish Aesthete). It served as home to Thomas Ryder Pepper until killed in a hunting accident in 1828. Having no direct heir, he directed that Loughton be left to his brother-in-law, Lt-General Benjamin Bloomfield, who had been created Baron Bloomfield three years before. After a distinguished career in the army, Bloomfield had entered royal service, acting as an Aide-de-Camp, then Chief Equerry and Clerak Marshall to the Prince of Wales, before becoming Private Secretary to George IV, as well as Keeper of the Privy Purse and Receiver of the Duchy of Cornwall from 1817-22. It was in his role as Keeper of the Privy Purse that he ran into trouble, since Bloomfield attempted to curb the monarch’s notorious extravagance, thereby not only incurring the latter’s wrath but also that of Lady Conyngham, George IV’s mistress and a frequent beneficiary of his largesse: once a great friend of the king, Bloomfield was ignominiously removed from his positions in 1822. 





Following the first Lord Bloomfield’s death in 1846, Loughton was inherited by his only son, John, second baron and diplomat who began his career in 1824 acting as an attaché in Lisbon. In 1851 he was appointed ambassador to Berlin and from thence to Vienna in 1860, eventually retiring 11 years later. When he died in 1879, he left no legitimate heir, although while posted to Stockholm in 1826 he had at least one child with Swedish actress Emilie Högquist, later mistress of King Oscar I. The Loughton estate then passed to Benjamin Bloomfield Trench, whose mother Georgiana had been a sister of the second Lord Bloomfield: the Trenches lived not far away at Cangort Park (see A Work in Progress « The Irish Aesthete). Benjamin Bloomfield Trench and his wife Dora had two daughters, and following their deaths, Loughton passed once again to another relation, Major Anthony Guy Atkinson, whose family for many generations had also lived in the area at Cangort House (see A Feast of Colour and Light « The Irish Aesthete). His son would sell Loughton in 2001 to Dr James Reilly, former Minister for Health who, in turn, sold the property to its present owners in 2016. 





As seen today, Loughton shows the results of a radical remodelling and enlargement of the house undertaken by architect James Pain in the mid-1830s for the first Lord Bloomfield. On the exterior, the entrance was moved from the north front’s canted bow to a new single-storey extension on the east side, leaving a rather sober rendered facade of three storeys over basement, tall, plain and relieved only by the windows’ limestone dressings. The eight-bay, south-facing garden front is altogether more immediately engaging, reversing the plan on the north side so that full-height canted bays flank a central two-bay recess, the window treatments also more dressed with details such as pediments and entablatures on console brackets. One curious feature is that the heights of the windows in the two central bays have not been raised to match those on either side, thereby disrupting the lines. The enfilade of principal reception rooms lies immediately behind this front, the drawing room leading to the library and thence the dining room. Immediately behind the library, Pain cleverly used the canted bow former entrance as a hall, its cantilevered stone staircase snaking around the walls to the main bedrooms immediately above. The most important of these formerly contained a richly carved bed made in 1821 in expectation of a visit to the house by George IV: the king never came to Loughton but the bed remained in situ until very regrettably sold at auction in 2016. Meanwhile, off the staircase hall can be found the former billiard room which acquired its present decoration of inlaid doors and window shutters, as well as a Tudor Revival chimneypiece, around 1890 seemingly thanks to Dora, wife of Benjamin Bloomfield Trench. Since acquiring the property nine years ago, when all the contents were sold, the current owners have been working both to refurbish and refurnish Loughton, an arduous task given the size of the place. Nevertheless, given how much has already been achieved here, their ambitions seem perfectly achievable. This is another gratifying example of what can be done to ensure Ireland’s historic houses have a viable future. 



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Often Overlooked



Often overlooked by visitors, this is the spectacular entrance hall of the National Museum of Ireland in Dublin. Designed by T.N. and T.M. Deane in 1885-90 and taking the form of a rotunda, it consists of a ground floor around which run a series of polished Ionic columns in different coloured Irish stone. The deep entablature, pierced by a sequence of oculi, supports a balustraded gallery above which pilasters with gilded capitals framing niches and, in one section, windows. And on top of this floats the dome. Meanwhile, the floor is covered in mosaic designed and laid by the Manchester firm of Ludwig Oppenheimer Ltd; the central section is taken up by the twelve signs of the Zodiac surrounding a stylised sun.



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