Tag Archives: Historic Interiors

Uncertain Future I


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





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





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


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Ill-Advised Indifference


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

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Operation Transformation


Exactly eight years ago, the Irish Aesthete visited No.3 Henrietta Street, Dublin and subsequently wrote about the house (see Opportunity Knocks « The Irish Aesthete). It was then for sale and in pitiable condition, having been turned into a tenement in the last century, with many of the original features such as the main staircase and the main chimney pieces stripped out and rooms subdivided to create more units in which entire families could be accommodated. Like many such buildings in this part of the city, it had been comprehensively degraded and faced an uncertain future. 






As discussed before, the site of 3 Henrietta Street, along with its immediate neighbour, was originally owned by Nathaniel Clements who completed work on the building around 1740-41 and then sold to the Rev. George Stone, Bishop of Ferns. The latter occupied the building but did not finish paying for it, until 1747 when he was appointed Archbishop of Armagh and, in turn, opportunistically moved into the even grander residence at the top of the street constructed for his predecessor in that office, Hugh Boulter. No. 4 was then leased to John Maxwell, MP for County Cavan and later first Lord Farnham. When John Maxwell moved into the house, it came with a plot of land to the immediate east, perhaps serving as a garden. In 1754 Maxwell’s only daughter married another MP, Owen Wynne of Sligo and it is thought that No.3 was built around this time to provide a Dublin residence for the newly-weds. The interior of the building underwent alterations believed to date from 1830: this was perhaps when the main staircase was removed and the double-height entrance hall divided into rooms on two levels. However, particularly on the first floor, the rooms retained much of their original decoration, the pair to the front of the room having a deep frieze with strapwork and festoons, while below the walls were sectioned by plaster panelling. To the rear at this level was a wonderful room with rococo stuccowork in the coved ceiling which extended into the bow. 





As can be seen, when offered for sale in 2016, No.3 Henrietta Street was in poor condition and looked an unattractive proposition for any possible buyer. Fortunately, it found new owners who in the years that followed undertook a thorough, and thoroughly sensitive, restoration of the building. One of their main interventions was the reinstatement of the double-height entrance hall incorporating a staircase such as would have existed when the house was first constructed and as can still be found in a number of other houses on the street (see, for example, No. 7, Relics of Auld Decency « The Irish Aesthete). This completely transforms the interior, making it altogether lighter and offering a better idea of how such buildings would have appeared to both owners and visitors in the 18th century. Upstairs, all the rooms were similarly refurbished, not least the first-floor bow-ended room with its charming coved ceiling with rococo plasterwork. The Irish Aesthete often (perhaps too often for some readers) focuses on loss and debasement of this country’s architectural heritage, so it is a pleasure to offer more cheering news on this occasion, evidence that at least occasionally our historic buildings, can sometimes be brought back from what appears to be the brink of permanent loss. 


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The Ascent to Knowledge


Herewith the entrance hall and main staircase of the King’s Inns’ Library on Henrietta Street, Dublin. The site, located at the top of the thoroughfare, had previously been the location for a large, six-bay house built in the early 18th century for Hugh Boulter, Archbishop of Armagh and thereafter occupied by a number of his successors, hence the street was popularly known as Primate’s Hill. This building was demolished c.1825 and replaced with the present library, designed by Frederick Darley. The double-height reading room on the first floor is accessed via an imperial staircase lit by a large arched window filled with armorial glass made by Michael O’Connor.

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All in the Detail


Now installed on the first-floor landing of the former Bishop’s Palace in Waterford City, this is a detail of a pine chimneypiece carved c.1758 by John Kelly for the Dublin residence of artist Robert West. Not to be confused with the near-contemporaneous stuccodore of the same name, West was born in Waterford, the son of an alderman, and trained in Paris, seemingly with both Boucher and van Loo before returning to Ireland and establishing a school of drawing in Dublin. By the mid-1740s, this was being subsidised by the Dublin Society, with premiums offered to students by Samuel Madden and annual exhibitions of their work held in the House of Lords. Unfortunately West became mentally ill in 1763 and had to be replaced as head of the school; he returned briefly to the position in 1770 before dying the same year.


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Memories

Herewith some memories of visits paid to various sites around Ireland during 2024:

The Argory, County Armagh (Where Time Stands Still « The Irish Aesthete)

Riverstown, County Cork (Rescued from Ruin « The Irish Aesthete)

Lucan House, County Dublin (Addio del Passato « The Irish Aesthete)

Former House of Lords, Bank of Ireland, Dublin (Where Turkeys Voted for Christmas « The Irish Aesthete)

Ardress, County Armagh (theirishaesthete.com/2024/06/10/ardress/)

Corbalton, County Meath (Corbalton « The Irish Aesthete)

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Behind the Scenes


Owing to the popularity of films and television series, perhaps most notably ‘Downton Abbey’, recent years have seen an increased interest in and awareness of life in what used to be called ‘below stairs.’ Indeed, most country houses open to the public report that visitors today are often far more engaged by what were once the servants’ quarters than they are in the building’s main reception rooms, no matter how splendidly decorated and furnished the latter may be. It is as though the audience at a theatre now prefers to spend time examining what takes place behind the scenes rather than watch the action on stage. Which is not to disparage either that interest or indeed the lives of those who were once employed in the Irish ‘Big House,’ the latter being deservedly the subject of increased scrutiny among historians.
In this country, although the work of servants was not hugely different from that of their equivalents elsewhere, it did have some distinctive characteristics. To begin with, there were often more of them than might be the case in other European countries, including our nearest neighbour. When Arthur Young toured Ireland in the second half of the 1770s, he noted that servants’ wages in Ireland were on average some thirty per cent cheaper than in England (and that there was no servants’ tax here). This may at least in part explain why most country house owners employed more of them. However, according to Young, the reason there were more servants was due ‘not only to the general laziness, but also to the number of attendants everyone of a higher class will have; this is common in great families in England, but in Ireland a man of five hundred a year feels it.’ In other words, in order to demonstrate your lofty status, you employed a lot of servants, even if there was little for them to do. When Sir James Caldwell visited the Earl of Belvedere in County Westmeath in 1773, he and two other gentlemen were not only entertained to a lavish dinner by their host but also waited upon by four valets de chambre and seven or eight footmen. ‘If the Lord-Lieutenant had dined there,’ Sir James thought, ‘there could not have been a more elegant entertainment.’
Almost forty years earlier, Samuel Madden in his Reflections and Resolutions Proper for the Gentlemen of Ireland also commented on the large number of servants found in Irish country establishments. ‘We keep many of them in our houses,’ he wrote, ‘as we do our plate on our sideboards, more for show than for use, and rather to let people see that we have them than that we have any occasion for them.’ (Madden also thought that servants during this period, ‘are so excessively paid for being so useless and debauched, and at the same time such compleat masters of their business, that they cheat us, when they think fit, and obey us only when they judge it reasonable.’ One suspects that the servants in question might have had a different opinion of the matter). 





In Two Centuries of Life in Down (1920), John Stevenson cites an account book kept between 1781 and 1797 by Anne Savage of Portaferry House, in which the wages of various servants are listed as follows:
Maids (duties unstated): £3 to £3, 8sh and 3d per annum
Ladies’ maids: £4, 1sh and 10d to £8 per annum
House Maids: £4 to £5 per annum
Kitchen maid: £3 per annum
Man Cook:: £12 per annum
Butler: £13, 13sh per annum
Footman: £9, 20sh per annum
Postilion (‘to keep himself in shirts, shoes and stockings’): £3, 8sh and 3d per annum
2nd Postilion (‘to keep himself in Boots, Britches and Linen’): £5, 13sh and 9d per annum
Coachman: £11, 7sh and 6d
Groom: £8
Stevenson also quotes some of Mrs Savage’s comments about the servants which could, on occasion, be quite savage. Of one Elizabeth Keley, she wrote that after two years of service, she was discharged ‘by her own desire. She is sober, Honest, Quiet but not a very good housemaid.’ Mary Walker, meanwhile, left employment at Portaferry House after a year, again of her own volition, Mrs Savage observing ‘She is a very good Servant and very honest. Neither sober nor quiet. I willingly part with her.’ Six months later, Mary Walker returned to the same position, but after 18 months again left, her former employer describing her as ‘a very good servant’ but ‘she drinks and is very bad tempered in that situation.’ Other female servants received even worse reviews from their erstwhile mistress, one being dismissed as good only when it pleased her, although ‘neither sober nor quiet’ while another, although sober and honest was also judged ‘Dirty, Disorderly and pert.’ Again, it would be interesting to know what these women thought of Mrs Savage as an employer. 





Although architects’ plans often indicate accommodation for servants in an Irish country house, this was not always carried through, and especially in the 17th and earlier part of the 18th centuries, at least some employees were left to sleep where they could – hugger-mugger on pallets in the kitchen, or, if they were personal maids and the like, in their master or mistress’s dressing room. Sometimes they would find a bed in what was termed the ‘barrack room’, a large dormitory space usually on the top floor of the building; these could also be employed for guests if a large number of single gentlemen came to stay for a few days. The one consistent feature was that male and female servants were required to sleep in different rooms or areas.
Service in an Irish country house differed from that elsewhere in a number of respects. In Country and Town in Ireland under the Georges (1940), Constantia Maxwell pointed out that two categories of servants were peculiar to here: the gossoon and the ‘running footman.’ As she explained, the gossoon (from the French garçon) was a young boy, effectively a slave to the cook and the butler; ‘that is to say that he did the drudgery of the house.’ Barefoot, gossoons were frequently sent on messages elsewhere and were known to cover extraordinary distances – up to fifty miles – in one day. Similarly running footmen took messages or letters to other parts of the surrounding country, carrying a long pole which they used for jumping over bogs, hedges and ditches. They might also be sent ahead, when the house owner was travelling, to find and prepare lodgings in an inn, ‘for they were chosen for their reliability as well as their strength.’
Servants’ tunnels were another common characteristic of Irish country houses, only occasionally encountered elsewhere. These long covered passageways were designed to lead from one part of the property to another without those using them being seen by the owners of the house: provisions, fuel and so forth could thus be moved around the building almost invisibly. The example shown here is typical of such tunnels, long and straight, large enough if necessary to accommodate a donkey and cart, with a vaulted roof and usually – but not always – intermittent openings permitting natural light to enter the space. Today, the servants’ tunnel is largely redundant, as indeed are most of the other spaces which were once the domain of country house staff. In this instance, even if there is still life on the main stage, today little takes place behind the scenes. 


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An Ideal Gift


Clandeboye, County Down

Deel Castle, County Mayo

36 Westland Row, Dublin 

2024 has been a somewhat busy year for the Irish Aesthete with, among other projects, the publication of three books over the course of the past 12 months. The first of these, The Irish Aesthete: Buildings of Ireland, Lost and Found, published by Lilliput Press, is a collection of one’s own photographs, with accompanying explanatory texts, covering the entire island of Ireland and ranging from happily intact country houses to ruined castles, from entire interiors to decorative details; a distillation of more than a decade of near-ceaseless exploration of this country’s architectural heritage.
In September, The Irish Country House: A New Vision was published by Rizzoli. With photographs by Luke White, this is an opportunity to offer an alternative vision of a Ireland’s historic homes, so often portrayed (not least by the Irish Aesthete) as sadly blighted and almost beyond redemption. On the contrary, as the book shows across 15 different properties spread around the country, there is an alternative story to be told. Instead of decay and demolition, here are cheering tales of revival and restoration, of plucky individuals taking on the challenge of bringing new life to old houses, and so  ensuring their survival, to be enjoyed by future generations.


Ballysallagh, County Kilkenny

Moyglare House, County Kildare

Tullanisk, County Offaly

Most recently, A Vanishing World: The Irish Country House Photographs of Father Browne appeared, courtesy of Messenger Publications. A Jesuit priest, Francis Browne was also an ardent and extremely competent amateur photographer who in the years leading up to his death in 1960 at the age of 80, began to visit country houses and take pictures of their interiors. Today these are invaluable documents since a number of the places he photographed have since been destroyed while many others have changed hands or lost most of their original contents. Fr Browne’s images show these houses, avant le déluge, when still intact, their appearance little changed over the centuries.
For anyone seeking a something suitable this Christmas, the Irish Aesthete makes so bold as to propose that any – or indeed all – of these books would make an ideal gift…


Malahide Castle, County Dublin 

Rockingham, County Roscommon

Shelton Abbey, County Wicklow

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A History of Restoration


Thought to have been born in the Donegal region of Ulster c.624, Adomnán, or Eunan as he is more widely known, was one of the many early Irish Christian monks who achieved widespread fame and ultimately canonisation.  When young, he may have spent some time at Durrow Abbey, County Offaly (see On the Plain of Oaks « The Irish Aesthete) which had been founded during the previous century by Saint Columba, to whom he was related. This would also explain why eventually he moved to the island of Iona, off the Scottish coast, where Columba had established another great monastery in 563, and where Eunan would become ninth abbot in 679. Renowned for his scholarship, between 697-700 he wrote the work for which he is best remembered, the Vita Columbae (or Life of St Columba). He died in 704.





St Eunan is believed to have been born in or close to the town of Raphoe, County Donegal where he established a monastery. Nothing of this survives, the earliest remains being two fragments of carved sculptural stonework probably once part of a door lintel. In the 12th century, Raphoe was established as a Diocesan See, and surviving evidence of the cathedral then erected can be found in the south-east section of the chancel, including a triple sedilia and a piscina bowl. However, St Eunan’s suffered greatly during the upheavals of the 16th and 17th centuries, and therefore underwent extensive restorations and alterations. The first of these began around 1605 when the Scottish-born clergyman George Montgomery, who had previously served as chaplain to James I, was appointed by the king not just Bishop of Raphoe, but simultaneously Bishop of Clogher and Derry (he was translated to the See of Meath alone in 1610). Montgomery’s successor Andrew Knox, another Scotsman, served as Bishop of Raphoe until his death in 1633, but also as Bishop of the Isles in his native country until 1619 (when he resigned so that his eldest son Thomas Knox could take over the diocese). On Knox’s arrival in Raphoe, the cathedral was described as ‘ruinated and decayed’ and therefore substantial restoration was undertaken during his episcopacy: a door lintel in the south porch is an inscription: AN. KNOX II EP I. CVRA. With its scrolled volutes, this porch (see final picture) is of interest because of its Italianate Baroque design, thought to date from the late 17th or very early 18th century, a rare surviving example from that period. Meanwhile, it may be that further work was undertaken on the building during the episcopacy of  yet another Scotsman, John Leslie (1633-1661), the ‘fighting bishop’ during whose time a new palace was built on an adjacent rise (see From Bishops to Bullocks « The Irish Aesthete). Nevertheless, the greater part of the cathedral as seen today dates from the 1730s, during the long episcopacy of Nicholas Forster, who served as bishop of the diocese from 1716 to 1743 and therefore had ample time to see to the building and improve its condition, helped in this enterprise thanks to funds left by one of his predecessors, John Pooley (died 1712). Visitors enter St Eunan’s through a porch below the west tower built by the bishop in 1738 but the transepts also added by Forster would be demolished in the late 19th century as part of the next restoration project. Incidentally, during his episcopacy, Forster also commissioned the handsome Volt House (now a heritage centre), which stands on Raphoe’s Diamond not far from the cathedral and was originally intended to house four widows of Church of Ireland clergymen.





Despite all the attention paid to St Eunan’s in the early 18th century, once more it suffered neglect, so much so that in 1876, the diocesan correspondent to the Ecclesiastical Gazette judged the place to be ‘the most neglected church in the diocese’. Between 1888-82 an extensive programme of restoration was undertaken by architect Sir Thomas Drew to return the cathedral’s ‘mediaeval’ character. Among other work done, the transepts, pews, and a gallery all dating from Forster’s time were removed. Much of what can be seen inside the building – the chancel arch, the east gable windows, the encaustic tiled floor, the timber panelling behind the altar and many of the present window openings all date from Drew’s intervention. Some of the stained glass windows in the chancel and nave were designed by members of  the An Túr Gloine studio. The west porch’s timber doors featuring Celtic motifs, symbols of the four evangelists and a border inscription were carved by a Mrs McQuaid, wife of a former rector, in 1907 in memory of her father Dean Joseph Potter who had died two years earlier. A few years ago, the cathedral underwent its most recent series of renovations, with €450,000 spent on a new roof and the repair of defective stonework, as well as the installation of interior lighting and a certain amount of redecoration. St Eunan’s has a long history of restoration, but, all being well, another such programme ought not to be required for a long time to come. 

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The Irish Dizzy

Many people will be familiar with the life of Benjamin Disraeli, popularly known as ‘Dizzy’, leader of the British Conservative party from 1868 until his death in 1881, twice Prime Minister during that period, and a great favourite of Queen Victoria. Much less well-known will be an Irish man of slightly earlier period with a strikingly similar name. Benjamin Disraell (c. 1766-1814) has betimes been proposed as an uncle of the future premier, although it is worth noting the slightly different spelling of his surname (it ends with a double l rather than an i). Furthermore, as was pointed out by Bernard Shillman, (writing in the Dublin Historical Record Vol. 3, No. 4, Jun. – Aug., 1941), Disraeli’s father Isaac is reported to have been an only son, meaning he would not have had a brother. As for the Irish Mr Disraell, while his origins are appear uncertain (he may have come to Ireland as a youth, and it has been proposed that he was of French Huguenot extraction), in December 1795 he is registered as – as a public notary – entering a Deed of Partnership with one Joseph Walker of Anglesea Street, Dublin to buy and sell lottery tickets and shares, etc., and deal generally in the ‘trade, art or mystery’ of the lottery business from premises at 105 Grafton Street. Almost five years later, in July 1800, Messrs Walker and Disraell advertised in the Freeman’s Journal that ‘the only Prize of £30,000 ever sold in this Kingdom’ had been obtained fromtheir office, ‘besides an innumerable Quantity of minor Prizes, such as £5,000, £2,000 £1,000, £500 etc., etc., etc.’  Shillman noted the memorial of a lease, dated 31st August, 1801, by Benjamin Disraell to Hugh Fitzpatrick, printer and bookseller, the premises described as No. 4 East Side of Capel Street near Essex Bridge for 47 years at an annual rental of £120. This is the building which can be seen in James Malton’s print of Essex Bridge and Capel Street published in 1797.

Benjamin Disraell was sufficiently successful in business that by the age of 35, he was able to retire to the country, buying an estate called Bettyfield, near Rathvilly, County Carlow. Although extensively altered c.1825, the core of the house here dates from around 1780, a five-bay, three-storey over basement building. Now called Beechy Park, since 2008 it has been owned by horse trainer Jim Bolger. Unhappily, Mr Disraell was not to enjoy his property for long, dying in 1814, at the age of 48; he was buried in the churchyard of St Peter’s, Dublin. His will made provision for a number of bequests for charitable purposes.Among these was the sum of £1,000 ‘to be expended in building a good and substantial house as near to the town of Rathvilly as may be, for the purpose of a free school for the education of poor children, and accommodation for a schoolmaster; the further sum of £2,000 for the endowment of said school, to be conducted on the most enlightened and liberal principles, under the care and superintendence of the Lord Bishop of Leighlin and Ferns.’

The schoolhouse constructed thanks to Benjamin Disraell’s bequest opened in 1826 and continued to serve the same purpose until 1977. It was designed by County Cork-born Joseph Welland, who would later go on to become Architect to the Board of First Fruits and subsequently to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners. Standing in its own grounds, from the exterior, the building suggests it might be a small Palladian villa. Of cut granite, it has six bays, with round-headed recessed windows in the centre block and flanking bays to pedimented wings. Inside, the former school is larger than initially appears to be the case. The wings each hold a large, high-ceilinged chamber (presumably once classrooms), while the centre block is of three storeys with several rooms at each level. After it ceased to operate as a school, the property was converted into a community centre but in recent weeks has been offered for sale at a price of €275,000. A building of high quality and fine design, one must hope that it soon finds a new owner, someone who will cherish this legacy of the Irish Dizzy.

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