Tag Archives: Historic Interiors

Unquestionable Charm



The ffrench family liked to trace their ancestry back to Rollo the Strong, a ninth-century Viking warrior so big that no horse was able to carry him. Around the year 885, he and a band of warriors sailed from Scandinavia to France where they would carve out a territory that, because they were Norsemen, came to be known as Normandy. There, one of Rollo’s descendants was Theophilus de Ffrench who accompanied Duke William to England and participated in the Battle of Hastings, his family staying on thereafter. But in the 14th century, two brothers, Patrick and Nicholas French, chose to move to Ireland, settling in County Wexford, although one of the former’s sons, Walter French, eventually crossed the country to Galway and there founded a dynasty that became one of the city’s ‘tribes’, fourteen mercantile families who dominated the city’s commercial and political life for several hundred years. By the early 16th century, the Frenches were sufficiently well-established for one of them, John French, to serve as mayor in 1538-9. He was also one of the richest citizens, having made a fortune through the importation of salt from Spain and as a result becoming known as ‘Shane ne Sallin’. This wealth allowed him to add an aisle to the north side of the Collegiate Church of St Nicholas in the city, and also begin to acquire property in the surrounding countryside, as did future generations of Frenches. Thus from being city merchants, they became landed gentry, choosing to spell their surname ffrench and owning substantial estates in the west of Ireland. Among their most important houses were Monivea, County Galway (see Death Before Dishonour – The Irish Aesthete) and Frenchpark, County Roscommon. Both these properties were demolished in the last century, but another family residence, Castle ffrench, still stands and has recently come on the market. 





Sir Charles ffrench was a descendant of John ffrench, a Galway citizen who at some date in the second quarter of the 17th century bought the castle and lands of Clogher, north of Ahascaragh, and although the family lost this property during the Cromwellian confiscations of the 1650s, they managed to regain it later and remained in possession until the second half of the last century. It would appear that Jasper ffrench built a new ‘castle’ or residence of some kind here in 1683 and this remained standing for almost 100 years until his great-grandson, Sir Charles ffrench, who had served as Mayor of Galway 1773-4, decided to replace it with a new house in 1779, the same year he was created a baronet. Following his death, Sir Charles’ widow, Rose Dillon, was made a baroness, this title being inherited by her son Sir Thomas, a Roman Catholic like his forebears and a vigorous supporter of religious emancipation. Sir Thomas was also partner in what was, for some time, a successful private bank, ffrench & Co. Unfortunately, towards the end of the Napoleonic Wars, this enterprise went bankrupt and in December 1814 Lord ffrench shot himself in the head using his dueling pistols. Although his son Charles inherited both title and estate, the family never recovered from this financial setback, which was made worse when the third baron refused to collect rents from his tenants during the Great Famine in the second half of the 1840s. As a result, in 1851 Castle ffrench and its estate of some 4170 acres was sold for £23,990 in the Encumbered Estates’ Court to James Thorngate  





The Thorngates were originally from the Hampshire town of Gosport where they had a successful grocer business before starting to acquire property. Like other families in England and Scotland, in the aftermath of the Irish famine, they recognised the investment potential in property here, and accordingly bought parcels of land being offered through the Encumbered Estates’ Court, in the case of the Thorngates in Counties Mayo, Roscommon. It seems that James Thorngate continued to own Castle ffrench until his death in 1869, after which it was sold, being duly acquired by members of the Churcher family, a family of solicitors based in Southampton. (Curiously, both the Thorngates and Churchers founded trusts to provide almshouses for the poor in the native country, and these two bodies were amalgamated together in 1981 as the Thorngate Churcher Trust.) Meanwhile, in 1919 Castle ffrench was bought back by the sixth Lord ffrench, and the house was once again occupied by the family until the closing years of the last century when it was sold once more. As seen today, Castle ffrench is a handsome ashlar-faced property of 3 storeys over basement, and with a five-bay facade with three-bay breakfront. The line of stone urns along the roof parapet and the doorcase flanked by fluted Doric pilasters beneath a plain entablature are the only decorative details. Inside, the building follows the customary tripartite pattern of drawing and dining rooms opening off a central entrance hall behind which is an elegant staircase with smaller rooms on either side. The surprise is that while Castle ffrench’s exterior is somewhat understated, the interior is notable for its splendid plasterwork. In the style of master stuccodore Michael Stapleton, it is a merry blend of rococo and neoclassical incorporating, a riotous spread of flowers and foliage, Irish harps, trophies and urns, birds and bows, all generously applied to ceilings and walls alike. Classical deities also put in an appearance: a cartouche below the stairs, for example, features the goddess Diana holding her bow while she reclines beneath a tree. The plasterwork here is rather unexpected (not least to find quite so much of it in the one house) and all the more wonderful for that. As mentioned, having only changed hands once in the past 100 years, Castle ffrench is now for sale: an opportunity for someone else to relish the house’s unquestionable charm. 



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A Delightful and Unspoiled Treat



‘The cathedral has neither grandeur nor architectural sophistication, but it retains a strong medieval atmosphere. Peering up out of the hollow in which it was built, it presents a stern and frowning countenance, as if looking at its visitors suspiciously and defensively, blinking with surprise that anyone should want to pay it a visit. The casual visitor will be equally surprised. St Laserian’s Cathedral is hidden away down so many twisting lanes that the likelihood of a chance visit is remote. The interested visitor will have to make a determined effort to get here, and the effort will be well rewarded.’
From The Cathedrals of Ireland by Peter Galloway (Belfast, 1992) 





Once an important urban settlement (until 1801 sending two members to the Irish House of Commons) Old Leighlin, County Carlow is now a small village, rather overshadowed by its neighbours on the other side of the river Barrow, Leighlinbridge and Bagenalstown. The best evidence of its former significance is a cathedral dedicated to Saint Laserian, although he was not responsible for establishing the original religious foundation here. That role went to Saint Gobhan, who in 633 participated in a synod here to debate the timing of Easter. Another participant in this synod was St Laserian, who is believed to have advocated that the Irish Church abandon its own method of calculating when Easter should fall and instead follow that of Rome. Otherwise known as Molaise, Laserian subsequently became the abbot of a monastery at Leighlin, but not before he had visited Rome and been consecrated a bishop by Pope Honorius I, which explains why this village should have become an episcopal seat (it was established as one of the five dioceses of Leinster at the Synod of Ráth Breasail in 1111) . Meanwhile, at Leighlin, the monastery flourished and at one point is said to have had a community of some 1,500 monks. This explains why it was raided twice by the Vikings, in 859 and 916, before being totally destroyed by fire in 1060. What can be seen there today all dates from after that catastrophe.  




Work on the present St Laserian’s was begun during the episcopacy of Bishop Donatus (1152-81) and was completed by the end of the 13th century. Sitting stocky and low, as though trying not to be seen, this is one of Ireland’s smallest cathedrals, consisting of an aisleless 82 foot long nave and 59 foot long chancel with a 59 foot tall 16th century tower between them. Two transepts were added in the 13th century but that to the south has long since been demolished while that to the north is now roofless. A very substantial Lady Chapel, almost as long as the chancel, was added immediately to the north of the latter by Bishop Matthew Sanders in the first half of the 16th century. With its plain plastered walls, the nave is barnlike, there being no windows on either north or south sides, and only a small window above the west door, although the addition of several skylights in the roof has made it less dark than must once have been the case. The chancel has walls stripped of plaster and two large windows of three lights at the eastern end of the south wall. Below these is a four-seat sedilia with trefoil heads and shafts. The four-light east window has stained glass by Catherine Amelia O’Brien, a member of An Túr Gloine. Otherwise, the interior is notable for the number of memorials, some 32, all to members of the Vigors family, the first of whom to settle in Ireland, the Rev Louis Vigors, was a Church of Ireland rector in County Cork. His grandson, Bartholomew Vigors, served as Bishop of Ferns and Leighlin for 30 years (1691-1721): his chair can still be found in the chancel. Descendants of the bishop continued to live in the area for the next couple of hundred years, as their memorials scattered throughout the cathedral can testify. As Peter Galloway noted, St Laserian’s is not notable for its architecture or monuments, but instead this ancient place of worship is ‘a delightful and unspoiled treat, grey and bluff and with all the atmosphere of a 13th-century fortress church.’



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As Healthy and Convenient as Any Other Rooms


‘Don’t give the servant’s room the look of a perpetual rummage sale by making it a dumping ground for old defaced pictures, furniture, and bric-a-brac. Remember that it is her only haven of rest, and have it restful, if only for selfish reasons, for renewed bodily vigor means well-done work and a made-over disposition. When we think of the average servant’s room, small, stuffy, poorly ventilated, hot in summer, cold in winter, and unattractive to a degree, it ought to bring a blush of shame.’
Excerpt from The Complete Home (1879)





‘The servants’ rooms should be made as healthy and convenient as any other rooms in the house, well lighted, and, being in part in the roof, care should be taken in all new houses to protect them from undue heat and cold by means of boarding and slates, by overlaying the former with battens, on which the slates are hung, so that, as far as practicable, the rooms may not be rendered hot and close in summer, or icy cold in winter.’ Excerpt from Popular Science Monthly (1885)





‘The writer would here urge every mistress of a family, who keeps more than one domestic, to provide them with single beds, that they may not be obliged to sleep with all the changing domestics, who come and go so often. Where the room is too small for two beds, a narrow trucklebed under another, will answer. Domestics should be furnished with wahing conveniences in their chambers, and be encouraged to keep their persons and rooms neat and in order.’ (Excerpt from A Treatise on Domestic Economy by Catherine Esther Beecher (1845)


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Hunting for a House


Irish readers over a certain age may remember the name Molly Cusack-Smith, since her colourful exploits (and sometimes language) often appeared in newspapers during the closing decades of the last century. Lady Cusack-Smith was a descendant of the Revd John O’Rorke, a Church of Ireland clergyman and member of an ancient Irish family which had once been based in what is now County Leitrim, where they had claimed the title Prince of Breifne. The Rev. O’Rorke had begun his ecclesiastical career as curate of Moylough, Co Galway, later becoming Rector of Foxford, Co Mayo, and Vicar of Straid, in the Diocese of Achonry, although he continued to live in Moylough (pluralism and non-residence being common features about Church of Ireland clergymen at the time). However, his primary interest appears to have been the acquisition of property, since he leased land from the Bellews of Mountbellew, County Galway and then bought the Clonbern estate in the same county from the family of the late William Beresford, Archbishop of Tuam. His landholdings also included over 1,600 acres in Co Roscommon and 217 acres in Co Westmeath. Married three times, he eventually diedin 1849 at the age of 73 after a fall from his horse. His son, Charles Dennis O’Rorke, inherited not just the Clonbern estate but also another at Bermingham, County Galway, bequeathed by his uncle John Dennis. This, in turn passed to his son, Charles Trench O’Rorke, before the greater part of the family’s landholdings, running to more than 5,000 acres, were acquired by the Irish Land Commission in 1927. Charles Trench O’Rorke had one child, a daughter christened Adela Mary, but known as Molly. 





Molly O’Rorke was born in 1905 and from an early age hunted with her father’s pack of harriers, since the family had long been associated with the local hunt known as the Galway Blazers. In the 1930s, she moved to Paris, initially with the intention of studying music but then opting for fashion, establishing herself as a couturier in London and specialising in evening dresses. At a cocktail party during the war she met Sir William Robert Dermot Cusack Smith whose family, like her own, was Irish. The couple married in 1946, had a daughter two years later but then parted ways. In a 1992 interview Molly Cusack-Smith explained ‘He was very rich and had a title. We got engaged because it seemed a good idea. But, actually, it wasn’t.’ Returning to Ireland and hunting, she became the first woman master of the Galway Blazers before founding the North Galway hunt where she was joint-master until her retirement in 1984. Every year at Bermingham House, she hosted a hunt ball once described as ‘the last clarion call of the stranded gentry’ and famous for the exuberance of all attendees: to paraphrase what was once said of the 1960s, if you could remember a Bermingham House hunt ball, you weren’t there. The tone was set by the event’s hostess, renowned for her colourful behaviour and language both on and off the hunting field. Of the various stories told about her, perhaps the best known is of the occasion when, at the end of the hunt, a groom remarked on the sweaty condition of her horse. To which she is said to have responded ‘You’d be sweaty, too, if you’d spent the past three hours between my legs.’ Molly Cusack-Smith died at the age of 92 in 1998. 





Bermingham House, the setting for all those legendary hunt balls, takes its name from the Berminghams, Barons Athenry, who once owned the land here, until their line died out with the first (and last) Earl of Louth who died in 1799. The house and estate were leased to John Irwin Dennis in the late 1830s before being bought  by him in 1851 in the Encumbered Estates’ Court. Along with 200 acres of farmland, it has now come on the market once more, with the opportunity for a new owner to host parties equal to those of the house’s former chatelaine. Dating probably from the mid-18th century, the building has a curious facade, of two storeys over basement and three bays, the latter spaced exceptionally far apart and both windows and door rather small considering the overall size: this is particularly curious because the west elevation is of four bays and the east of five. Inside, a pedimented doorcase leads from entrance to staircase hall, the latter having pretty neo-classical plasterwork in arches above doors and recessed bookcases. The main reception rooms have good late 18th century chimneypieces and are all painted in bold colours, as is the case with many Irish country houses. Naturally, given its previous predilection for hunting, there are fine stable yards to the rear. 


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All’s Wells



Buried inside the present 19th century Wells House in County Wexford is a much older building, thought to date from the second half of the 17th century. This was constructed by John Warren, a soldier in the Commonwealth army, who as payment for his service was granted more than 6,000 acres here. A ‘plain square building’ the original Wells and surrounding estate were sold in 1704 to Robert Doyne, whose descendants would continue to own the property until 1966. The Doynes claimed descent from the medieval Gaelic sept of Ó Duinn (O’Dunne), lords of Uí Riagáin (Hy‐Regain) in that part of Ireland that is today known as County Laois. Around the time that Warren had been granted the land at Wells, Robert Doyne’s father had been deprived by the Commonwealth government of his own property. However, the family successfully regained what had been lost: it helped that Robert Doyne had conformed to the Established Church, become a wealthy barrister and married a widow who brought money and property with her. Hence he could afford to buy the Wells estate, along with other lands so that by the time of his death he had built up a holding of some 9,800 acres. 





As mentioned, the present Wells House dates from the late 1830s when designed by Daniel Robertson for another Robert Doyne who, like his forebear, had married a wealthy widow, Annette-Constantia Uniacke, a niece of the first Marquess of Waterford. It is easy to understand why the Doynes should decide that work needed to be undertaken on what was their principal residence. Samuel Lewis, writing in 1837, noted that the earlier house on the site ‘was, for nearly three years after the disturbances of 1798, occupied as a barrack by the king’s troops ; it is now about to be rebuilt in the Elizabethan style by the proprietor, as a residence, and will in future be called Wells Abbey.’ While the change of name does not appear to have taken place, by 1844, James Fraser could write that the house ‘has been recently repaired, and altered from a plain square building to the early style of Tudor architecture; and the grounds around the mansion, and the approaches to it, are in process of formation in a style conformable thereto.’ Doyne had evidently been thinking of giving the family home a new appearance for some time, having commissioned designs from Thomas Cobden in 1819 (a classical design) and then for additions and alterations from Sir Richard Morrison in 1836. But ultimately he opted for Robertson’s scheme, which like so much of the latter’s work, evoked 16th century manor houses, with an asymmetrical facade incorporating an abundance of gables and clusters of chimneys. The result, unusually faced mellow red brick is, as Frederick O’Dyer has noted, more English in style than the majority of Robertson’s houses, which tended to be faced in either granite or limestone. 





The seven-bay Wells House is of two-storeys over basement with a dormer attic, a breakfront gabled centre bay incorporating a large Tudoresque doorcase. Both end bays also break forward and are gabled, a gentle asymmetry introduced by that to the north having a canted bay window on the first floor (this lights the main staircase). The garden front presents a more balanced appearance. As might be expected from its exterior, the main reception rooms of Wells House, County Wexford are very much in the Tudorbethan mode, with the use of oak panelling in a variety of styles, as well as Gothic-style timber panelled doors and shutters, and groin vaulted ceilings. The double-height staircase hall is particularly fine, with cast-iron balusters supporting carved a timber banister terminating in Gothic-style octagonal newels and a timber surround to the canted bay window found on the half-landing.
An unexpected change of decorative styles can be found in the drawing room, which is panelled in white and gilt rococo boiseries. Whether original Louis XV or a later imitation of that period’s style it is hard to tell, and no information appears to exist about their origins, although surviving plans indicate they were installed when the house was given its present form by Robertson. Might the boiseries have been acquired by Robert Doyne when, as a young man, he had embarked on a Grand Tour of mainland Europe, in the company of no less than Beau Brummell? The quality of workmanship is high, many of the panels filled with a multitude of small fleurs-de-lis, while close to the top of the walls at either end of the room are two elaborately carved panels, one featuring musical instruments and sheets of music, the other a quiver of arrows and the head of Diana. And it all fits the room perfectly, so was either created for this space or else, if from somewhere else, adapted accordingly. In any case, the Doynes continued to occupy the property until the mid-1960s, after which Wells House passed through a couple of other hands before being bought by the present owner in 2022: today it is open to the public, with self-catering cottages in the yard, and a variety of tours and events held in the main building. 



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Playing with the Architectural Lexicon



‘Crossing the left bank of the Boyne at Bellinter bridge we enter the noble demesne of Ardsallagh, now belonging to the Duke of Bedford, who has recently erected here a handsome Elizabethan mansion, in which report whispers he will annually spend some time. In no part of its course does the river present the same extreme calmness and repose as here. Widening into deep, still pools, shaded by aged timber, and fringed with wild plants of gigantic growth, huge colts-foot; with the modest blue forget-me-not and the little yellow potentilla peeping through their dark umbrageous foliage; long, topling bulrushes, fragrant meadow-sweet, and broad waterlilies, stretch in wild luxuriance along the placid banks. Long avenues of lime trees, and groves of tall grey- stemmed beeches with arcades of aged yew, give an air of antiquity as well as grandeur to this handsome park. One almost always expects to meet some remnant of ecclesiastical buildings where aged yew trees abound, and accordingly we read that St. Finian founded the monastery of Escair-branain near this, but at present even the site of that ancient edifice is unknown.’ (from The Beauties of the Boyne and its Tributary the Blackwater by William R. Wilde, 1849). 






Located above the banks of the river Boyne as it flows south from the town of Navan, County Meath, Ardsallagh was, as Wilde mentioned, believed to be the site of a religious house established here in the sixth century by Saint Finian of Clonard. In the late 12th century, the land here was granted by the Norman knight Hugh de Lacy to one of his supporters, Jocelyn de Angulo, whose descendants, their name anglicised to Nangle, became known as Barons of Navan. The Nangles erected a castle at Ardsallagh and would remain there until the 1650s when, like so many other families who had supported the Catholic Confederate cause, they were deprived of their property, 8,000 acres of which were later purchased by the Dublin alderman John Preston: in the following century, his great-granddaughter Mary Preston inherited the Ardsallagh estate. Her husband, Peter Ludlow served as an MP for Meath, while the couple’s son, also called Peter, would have a highly successful political career, eventually becoming Comptroller of the Household in the 1780s. Before then, he had been elevated to the peerage, created Baron Ludlow of Ardsallagh while aged just 25, and eventually becoming first Earl Ludlow. In due course he was succeeded by his two sons, the younger of whom, the third and last earl, had a highly successful military career, rising to the rank of Lieutenant General, as well as acting as Equerry to the Prince of Wales from 1784-95. On his death without direct heirs in 1842, Ardsallagh was bequeathed to Francis Russell, seventh Duke of Bedford who, Wilde noted, commissioned a new residence on the site. This property subsequently passed to the duke’s brother, Lord John Russell, British Prime Minister 1846-52, and later first Earl Russell. However, he and his descendants do not appear to have spent much, if any, time in residence at Ardsallagh. In January 1890, The Times carried the following advertisement: ‘To be let or sold for a term of years, the house and demesne lands of Ardsallagh, the Irish residence of Lord Russell, situated on his property in the County of Meath, in the best hunting district in Ireland.  The house is a large gentleman’s residence, with good stables and out offices, and the demesne contains 333 acres 1 rood 43 perches statute measurement.’ Certainly, in the closing decades of the 19th century, the estate was let to the French family, and eventually in the 1930s it was bought by a local builder, Cormac Murphy and his wife Catherine: earlier this year, their grandchildren placed the house and surrounding 199 acres on the market. 






As alredy mentioned, the original building at Ardsallagh was a castle erected by the Nangles, but no trace of this survives today: a census from 1821 merely notes ‘the remains house of Ardsala’ while The Parliamentary Gazetteer 0f Ireland, 1844-1845 observed that the demesne here ‘seems to be as ill kept as it is delightfully situated.’ The two later Earls Ludlow had enjoyed careers based in England and therefore one assumes neglected their Irish estate. However, the place had once been very fine: passing through the area in August 1732, Mrs Delany declared ‘The house seems a very antique edifice, it has fine gardens, but the trees and meadows that lie by the river are extremely beautiful.’ Similarly, writing c.1740, Isaac Butler called Ardsallagh, ‘the beautifull Seat of Mr Ludlow the House is lofty & well designed with a fine Firr Grove which almost encompass the House here are delightfull Gardens, & curious subterraneous Grottos.’ By the following century, it appears all this had fallen into ruin, which explains why, after inheriting the place, the Duke of Bedford should have opted to start afresh with the construction of a new residence. As seen today, Ardsallagh is in the Tudor Revival style, its limestone exterior replete with pointed gables and towering diagonal chimneys, oriels and mullioned windows. Designed by an unknown architect, but described by Casey and Rowan as being ‘in the manner of Edward Blore’, the house cost £40,000 to build and fit out. The building, which suffered a fire in 1903, subsequently received attention from Sir Thomas Drew, which makes it difficult to know how much of the present interior is original and how much early 20th century refurbishment. The most striking feature is the double-height staircase hall which, unlike the exterior, evokes the Baroque period, with the first-floor gallery supported by a series fluted columns below an elaborate entablature. The main rooms, their plasterwork ceilings simultaneously incorporating elements of the Jacobean and English Perpendicular periods, further add to the delightfully eclectic blend of styles found within the house. Although, as is evident in these pictures, the place now needs some attention, Ardsallagh is a wonderful survivor from a time when bold borrowing from the architectural lexicon was still widespread. At the time of writing, the property is listed as Sale Agreed: one must hope that whoever takes it on appreciates Ardsallagh’s special qualities and ensures they are preserved into the future. 



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Offering an Alternative Vision


Last May, the Irish Aesthete looked at the sad fate of St Loman’s, Mullingar, a vast range of buildings dating from the 1850s and originally opened as a lunatic asylum (see Squandering National Resources « The Irish Aesthete). St Loman’s continued to offer long-term residential care for psychiatric patients until it was closed in December 2013. Since then, the state body responsible for the property, the Health Service Executive, has done nothing with it, allowing the place, which might be restored and used for a number of other purposes, not least housing, to fall into steadily worse condition. For the HSE, these circumstances are not unusual: the organisation owns some 200 buildings at least 110 of which have been categorised as ‘surplus to requirement.’ Deemed unfit for their original purpose, these properties have often been neither repurposed nor passed on to new owners. Instead the HSE appears to prefer that they sit vacant and deteriorating. At the end of last month, the Irish Independent reported that the health body had been presented by local authorities with a total bill of almost €800,000 in derelict site levies, some 50 per cent of which remained unpaid, with the largest bill linked to a former nurses’ building at University Hospital Galway where the organisation was being charged €245,000. It is worth pointing out that these buildings are the property of the Irish people, and supposedly in the care of the HSE. Too often that care is not forthcoming and instead one state body is expected to fine another, the money coming out of the same public purse, as funded by the taxpayer. Fortunately, there are exceptions to this sad and repetitive tale, as can be seen in Enniscorthy, County Wexford.






St Senan’s dates from a decade after St Loman’s but was intended to serve the same purpose: to act as Enniscorthy District Lunatic Asylum. Located on a site some 250 yards above the river Slaney and a prominent local landmark for more than a century and a half, the building was designed by architects James Bell and James Barry Farrell, and cost in the region of £40,000 to construct. Primarily faced in red brick produced on the site, with yellow brick used for the dressings, the hospital sits on a plinth of locally quarried granite. Opened in 1868, the building is an astonishing 650 feet (225 metres) long and follows an unusual asymmetrical plan centred on a thirteen-bay, three-storey central block with projecting five-bay wings on either side, much of the rest of the facade being broken up with a sequence of five-storey Italianate towers, most of them intended to store water. While the central block was used for administration, a chapel, dining hall and so forth, the long wings on either side provided accommodation for male and female inmates, of which there were originally supposed to be 232 of each sex, although this number would later rise: some 250 staff were employed on the site in different roles. St Senan’s remained in use until early in the present century. In 2010, it was one of three hospitals ordered by the Mental Health Commission to cease admissions, with the property described as ‘dilapidated, depressing and not fit for human habitation.’ By 2014, it was being used by the HSE for same-day respite care and administrative offices, but had been placed by An Taisce on the latter’s top 10 nationally significant buildings at risk. St Senan’s closed in 2015. 





In January 2017, less than two years after closing to patients, St Senan’s on a site of some 46 acres was offered for sale by the HSE with a guiding price of  just €780,000. The property was bought by a local development company, Bree Investments Ltd, which, working with GKMP Architects, is now in the midst of an imaginative and ambitious job of converting the former hospital into 60 large apartments. What this project shows is that it is possible for an old building to be given new purpose, one quite different from that originally envisaged but no less needed, especially today. If a commercial entity can undertake such a job on the basis that eventually profit will be realised, one must ask why the HSE, which is constantly short of funds (and consistently overreaching its annual budget) could not do likewise. Instead of sitting on assets which decline in value through want of maintenance, it should either engage in restoration and regeneration, or dispose of the property to a third-party which will do so. St Senan’s offers an alternative vision of what can happen to such historic properties.

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A Fitting Memorial


In 1887, Constance Duguid, daughter of a wealthy wine merchant based in Dover, came to Ireland to visit her sister Madeleine who lived in Myshall, County Carlow as wife of the local rector. During her visit, Constance met Rupert George Inglis Brady, heir to his family estate and then living in Myshall Lodge. The couple became engaged, but while out riding she was thrown from her horse and died. Constance was buried in the churchyard at Myshall, where her father John Duguid erected a life-size white marble statue from Dublin sculptor Thomas Farrell: it depicts a young woman in gauzy garments holding a dove. When Duguid’s wife Adelaide died in 1903, she asked to be buried beside her daughter, but by this time Farrell’s work had begun to show signs of weathering. Therefore, a decision was taken not just to move it indoors, but also to build a new church in which the sculpture would be placed.




Work on the construction of the Adelaide Memorial Church of Christ the Redeemer began in 1907, its architect being George Coppinger Ashlin, who as a young man had worked with Edward Welby Pugin, eventually marrying the latter’s sister Mary: before their partnership broke up in 1870, Pugin and Ashlin designed a number of churches in Ireland, not least the cathedral in Cobh, County Cork. Ashlin was 70 when he took on the commission in Myshall, and took his inspiration from Salisbury Cathedral, with which the new building has similarities, although contrary to popular belief, the church is not a miniature copy of the English cathedral. Thought to have cost Duguid some £50,000, it was consecrated a few months after his own death in May 1913. The Adelaide Memorial church is in the early English style, cruciform in design with an ornate tower and spire rising above the entrance porch in the south-west corner. Below a steeply pitched roof of Westmoreland slate, the extensively buttressed walls are faced in limestone resting on a five-foot base of locally quarried granite.





Inside the church, a nave without aisles leads to the chancel at the east end, with transepts on either side, that to the north serving as a mortuary chapel to the Duguids, that to the south fronted by a pulpit incorporated into an oak screen with the vestry beyond. Throughout the building, the walls and vaulted ceiling are entirely faced in pale Bath stone, with a variety of marbles, including stones from Galway and Kilkenny, used for columns and other architectural elements. The bosses at the intersection of each bay on the ceiling are either foliated or else are carved with images of the evangelists, the Duguid coat of arms, or the intertwined initials of Adelaide and John Duguid. Below the chancel’s east window is a panel in mosaic, mother of pearl and gold leaf depicting the Last Supper. Many of the church’s decorative details came from English manufacturers. The black and cream mosaic floor, for example, was provided by Oppenheimer and Co of Manchester, while James Powell & Sons was responsible for the stained glass. The clock in the tower came from Joyce of Whitchurch in Shropshire, and the bells were made by Taylors of Loughborough. The mortuary chapel in the north transept is particularly fine, its archway carved with thistles and roses (emblems of the respective countries of origin for John and Adelaide Duguid). Thought to have been inspired by a screen in St Giles’s Cathedral, Edinburgh, that in the mortuary chapel is made of wrought iron and copper, and features doves carrying olive branches, roses, fleur-de-lis and the Duguid couple’s entwined initials. Inside, the space is dominated by Farrell’s white marble statue, set on a six-foot-high pedestal of Peterhead marble which carries the following inscription: ‘Remembering the admiration with which she used to view similar monuments in Italy, this statue of Innocence fit representing her, is placed here to the memory of “Conny” Constance Louise Eugenie Duguid by her sorrowing parents, 1888.’ The remains of both her parents are interred in the same space. Still wonderfully maintained, despite the high costs involved, the Adelaide Memorial church is one of the unexpected delights of this part of the country.


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Beautifully Situated on a Fine Declivity


Mount Juliet, County Kilkenny dates from the 1760s when commissioned by Somerset Butler, 8th Viscount Ikerrin and 1st Earl of Carrick from an unknown architect. Located on an estate he had bought towards the end of the previous decade. The house sits on high ground above the river Nore and across from Ballylinch, a property which had anciently belonged to the monks of Jerpoint Abbey and which had passed through a number of hands before being inherited by Eleanor Redman, who married James Butler, third viscount Ikerrin: they were the paternal grandparents of Somerset Butler. The original name of the land on which Mount Juliet stands was Oldtown but this was changed to Waton’s Grove, after the Waton family who lived there until they forfeited their property in the aftermath of the Cromwellian settlement. It then passed through a succession of owners, including James II, until finally being purchased by Somerset Butler, probably in the late 1750s: a bridge over the river in front of the house carries the inscription, ‘This bridge was built at the private expense of Somerset Hamilton Earl of Carrick in the year 1762.’ Having acquired the place, he chose to call it Mount Juliet, after his wife, Lady Juliana Boyle, a daughter of the first Earl of Shannon. 





When Arthur Young visited Mount Juliet  in 1776, he described it as ‘beautifully situated on a fine declivity on the banks of the Nore, commanding some extensive plantations that spread over the hills, which rise in a various manner on the other side the river: a knole of lawn rises among them, with artificial ruins upon it…’ Another visitor in 1818 describes walking around ‘the flower gardens and to the green house which is on an uncommon plan and then round the back lawn, which is very pretty, well wooded with pretty oak between the boles of which is a beautiful view of distant woods and hills and here and there a reach of the river.’ However, the writer thought the house ‘very large, old fashioned and not pretty,’ although he did allow that it seemed ‘comfortable and convenient.’ 





Designed by an unknown architect, Mount Juliet is of three storeys over-basement. The house originally faced north-east looking down towards the river with a seven bay facade between two shallow curved bows with arched windows on two storeys. The central breakfront has Venetian windows on the two upper storeys above a tripartite pedimented and fan-lit doorway (since enclosed within a porch). There is a perron and double steps in front of the door, with iron railings  At the start of the last century, the entrance was moved to the other side of the building, with a single-bay three-storey projecting entrance bay added. Much of the interior decoration was commissioned by the second earl, Henry Thomas Butler, who inherited the estate in 1774, also the year in which he was married. The main reception rooms have splendid plasterwork, again by unknown hands, although in the style of Michael Stapleton,not least the dining room, the walls of which are lined with medallions enclosing classical figures in relief and surrounded by delicate garlands of grape leaves. But each room has its own distinctive character, as well as a variety of fine marble chimneypieces, many of which were installed when the house underwent alterations in first decades of the last century. The second earl was also responsible for the entrance hall dominated by an Imperial staircase supported by a screen of fluted Ionic columns. When the house’s orientation was altered at the start of the last century, a room was added immediately beyond the stairs’ return. 





While the first two Earls of Carrick appear to have lived within their means, the same cannot be said of the third. Soon after he died in 1838, leaving two infant sons, an auction was held at Mount Juliet where lots on offer included ‘the entire household furniture, plate, and plated ware, valuable paintings, books, piano forte, china, glass, &c.; as well as horses, carriages, farming implements and all livestock. Then in 1852, a large part of the family’s land, ‘‘upwards of 7,000 acres statute measure’ was sold by the court for the Sale of Incumbered Estates in Ireland, the auction realising a total of £40,200. By this date, all that remained was the townland of Mount Juliet and its house, which had been inherited by the fifth earl, Somerset Arthur Butler, who entered the Grenadier Guards as an ensign in 1856 and took part in the Crimean War, retiring from service as a captain in 1862. Unmarried, seemingly in later years he became a recluse and following his death in 1901 is said to have left much of his personal fortune to the Plymouth Brethren of which he was a member. Title and what remained of the estate then passed to a cousin, Major Charles Henry Butler, who never lived in the property but passed it on to his eldest son, the future seventh earl who in turn leased Mount Juliet to the wealthy General Sir Hugh McCalmont. 





Just before the outbreak of the First World War, General Sir Hugh McCalmont bought Mount Juliet from the seventh Earl of Carrick. The McCalmonts were responsible for carrying out a number of alterations to the house, not least changing its orientation and creating a ballroom in one of the wings. The family remained at Mount Juliet until 1988 when they in turn sold the property. Since then it has operated as a luxury hotel with a Michelin starred restaurant. Over the past year, the hotel’s new owners have undertaken an extensive restoration and redecoration of the house.


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Of Napoleon’s Toothbrush and Other Matters


One of the oldest institutions in this country, the Royal College of Physicians of Ireland dates back to 1654, although its first royal charter was granted by Charles II in 1667. The man behind this initiative was John Stearne who, like many other characters during this period, was able to adapt to rapidly changing circumstances and thereby survive and even flourish. Born in County Meath in 1624, Stearne had attended Trinity College Dublin and became a scholar there, but left without taking a degree around the onset of the Confederate Wars in 1641, when he moved to England. There he spent time first in Cambridge and then Oxford, returning to Ireland a decade after he had left it and becoming a fellow of Trinity College Dublin. The university had been given a dilapidated building on nearby Dame Street by the city’s corporation but lacked funds to restore it: In 1654 Stearne persuaded college authorities to hand the property over to him, on the understanding that he would convert it ‘unto the sole and proper use of physicians’ where he would act as life president. It says much about his persuasive charm that Stearne’s proposal should have been accepted, that he then managed to secure donations for the building’s refurbishment before riding, seemingly without problems, over the transition from Commonwealth to Restoration, and then ensure that the organisation he had established should receive royal approbation. Two years after this was achieved, Stearne died just days before his 45 birthday (one wonders whether he was familiar with the maxim ‘physician heal thyself’). Happily, the college survived. Initially it was known as the Fraternity of Physicians of Trinity Hall, but after receiving a second royal charter from William III and Mary II in 1692 , it was renamed the King and Queen’s College of Physicians in Ireland, retaining this title until 1890 when the present title was formally adopted. Once the direct link with Trinity College was broken following the grant of a second charter, the physicians became homeless and this remained the case for more than the next century, meeting in the homes of successive Presidents. However, a hospital opened on Dublin’s Grand Canal Street funded by a substantial legacy the College of Physicians had received from Sir Patrick Dun following his death almost 100 years earlier in 1713. This hospital, named after Dun, included a meeting room and accommodation for the college’s library, but  in the new hospital. Nevertheless, the physicians still wanted their own substantial premises, and this finally became possible in 1860 when the Kildare Street Club, which had occupied a couple of houses on Kildare Street since the 1780s, offered to sell these buildings to the College.






Just four months after taking possession of its new home, the college suffered a setback when the Kildare Street buildings were almost entirely destroyed by fire. Fortunately, the property was insured and this meant that the physicians, instead of having to spend money adapting what had once been two private residences into a public institution could instead start afresh with a building designed for their specific purposes. Six architects were invited to submit proposals, the winner of the commission being William G Murray, whose practice was responsible for many banks, insurance companies, railway stations and so forth. While the facade of the college underwent some modifications when the original sandstone was replaced by Portland stone in 1964, inside remains much as it looked when first completed in 1864, Professor Christine Casey noting that today the building’s sequence of rooms ‘is among the best-preserved Victorian interiors in the city.’ A flight of steps in the vestibule leads to the top-lit, double-height stair hall with grand imperial staircase: this space introduces visitors to a long processional axis running like a spine through the centre of the building. At the top of the staircase and occupying the entire street frontage is the library, originally conceived as two spaces, a library and a museum, but now one room lit by five windows. Meanwhile, down off the central landing, a long colonnaded corridor leads to the first of two great meeting rooms, the Graves Hall. This was part of Murray’s original design, a double-height space lwith ribbed coved ceiling, the walls of which are lined with Corinthian pilasters between which hang a collection of portraits on the west wall and twin light windows on the east. At the north and south ends and flanking the chimneypieces are white marble statues on plinths: these represent four former presidents of the college, including Sir Dominic Corrigan who was responsible for negotiating the purchase of the site and the fund-raising required after the fire. Corrigan can also be given the credit for a further extension to the building, this time designed by McCurdy Mitchell in 1873.  This area at the rear of the old houses had previously been filled by the Kildare Street Club with a racquet court and other rooms. Another long barrell-vaulted and colonnade corridor now led to the second great hall, today named after Corrigan, its walls lined with a further collection of portraits. 






The RCPI is home to many extraordinary objects. The library, for example, contains over 20,000 books, pamphlets and journals, primarily but not exclusively focussed on medicine, including Sir Patrick Dun’s own library, bequeathed to the college in 1713. Likewise many of the portraits, busts and statues represent doctors and physicians, but not all of them. There are medical instruments dating back to the 18th century and later. Then there is the extraordinary Quin Tassie collection, consisting of 26 drawers of more than 1,700 miniature gem casts and moulds imitating antique models and believed to have been created in the 18th century by the internationally renowned Scottish gem engraver James Tassie working with his mentor and patron, Irish physician Henry Quin; it was donated by his family to the college in 1926. Finally, and perhaps most extraordinary of all the items held by the college, is Napoleon Bonaparte’s toothbrush. As is well known, when the former emperor was exiled to the island of St Helena, he was attended by an Irish doctor, Barry O’Meara. He had served as a surgeon with the British Army in Egypt and Sicily, before being court-martialled for acting as a second in a duel in Sicily. O’Meara then entered the Royal Navy as an assistant surgeon, ending up in St Helena where, according to Napoleon in Exile: or, A Voice from St. Helena, a best-selling memoir he published in 1822 a year after the emperor’s death, O’Meara was bequeathed various mementoes, including the aforementioned toothbrush with a silver gilt handle stamped with the letter ‘N’. Today, it can be viewed, along with much else, in the Royal College of Physicians. 


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