The Phoenix Park

Phoenix Park. - Its Beauties. - Viceregal Lodge. - Pleasant Associations. - Chief Secretary’s Lodge. - Lady Emily Peel. - Theatricals. - Syllabub and Cream. - The Ranger’s Lodge.

No two parks can be more unlike than Hyde Park and Phoenix Park-the one with all its natural charms, set off by every new shade of flower and every new fashion of arrangement, while the other rests its attractions on Nature’s own gifts.

You need not wear your tall beaver or your best frock to walk in the Phoenix; you can take your straw hat and don your cotton gown, and spend a happy but unfashionable afternoon, either lying on the grass, in lazy, luxurious idleness, enjoying the exquisite sweetness of the delicious summer air, or you can get on a jarvey, and be driven in blissful silence through seven miles of an uninterrupted panorama of Nature’s own making.

Do not imagine that I am decrying the child of fashion: I love to sit under the shade of the trees, and watch the world’s fair as it passes me by, its votaries arrayed like the lilies of the field in all their splendour; but here the comparison, if it be a fit one, ends. There is not much of the purity of the lily to be found as the procession defiles through Rotten Row on Church Parade Sunday: the woman of 60, with a well-repaired face and youthful figure; the young girl touched up by the same skilful hand; the old man tightened in the waist, with nests of crows’ feet round his bilious eyes; and the young man prematurely old; the children - alas that one should have to say it! - nearly as artificial as French children; while even the flowers in their symmetrical beds have an artificial air, as if they too were seeking for admiration, and were painted and powdered for exhibition.

As I look at this shifting crowd of men, women, and children, a longing comes over me for a whiff of the pure air of the “Old Phoenix” coming straight from the Fifteen Acres; and I breathe a sigh of regret for the tranquil stillness of that Sunday afternoon when I drove on an Irish jaunting-car from the North Circular Road, right through the Park, past Foley’s equestrian statue of Lord Gough, along the road by the river, past the Magazine Fort, where formerly a viceregal residence stood,

[It is said that Dean Swift, when in one of his lucid intervals, was taken out by his medical attendant, Dr. Kingsbury, to inhale the fresh air of the Park, and seeing the Magazine Fort for the first time, inquired about it. Being informed that it was a means of defence for the City, the Dean wrote on his tablet:

Behold a proof of Irish sense;

Here Irish wit is seen

When nothing’s left that’s worth defence,

we build a Magazine.]

through the Furze Glen, round by the Strawberry Beds, reaching the Phoenix [Phoenix is derived from two Irish words* - finniske, *or *finnioge *(“fair water”). The spring supplying the water is said to be a spa situated. in a hollow near the Zoological Gardens]

Column, erected by Lord Chesterfield in 1745.

The Park originally formed part of the lands of Kilmainham, belonging to the Knights Hospitallers, who had in 1541 surrendered their property to the Crown. It was Charles II. who incorporated this portion of Kilmainham with other town lands, and made of both a large deer park, which remained in an uncultivated condition until reclaimed and beautified by Lord Chesterfield. It was likewise this nobleman who gave to the public the right of entrance.

At this time the residence allotted to the Viceroys was Leixlip Castle, one of the many defences built by the Norman invaders. The Castle is close to the romantic Salmon Leap, and its antique towers, mantled with ivy, can still be seen rising above the surrounding trees and river. It was, however, too far distant from the City, and was too solitary and unprotected, to suit the troubled times with which the last century closed and in 1784 the present Viceregal Lodge was bought by the Government from Lord Leitrim, whose father, the Hon. Nathaniel Clements, had built it for his own use in 1751. It is not a very imposing residence, and the additions made to it have not added to its appearance. Carlyle describes it as a house with wings at right angles to the body of the building, also with esplanade, two sentries, and utter solitude ; in his opinion, a dreadfully dull place.

We know the sage of Chelsea had no eye for the beauties of nature, otherwise he would have considered that the situation of the Lodge compensates for its unpretentious appearance, and might reconcile one to even its dulness. Moreover, it would be a matter of dispute whether it is duller than the usual run of royal residences - worse than Frogmore, for instance, or Bushey, the White Lodge, or Cumberland Lodge; in fact, it has attractions which these royal seats do not possess.

Of a summer’s day no more charming walk or drive can be found than under the shade of the avenue of elm trees, which once was the principal approach. Here you can chew the cud of solitary meditation, dream of your future, or repent your past; there will be no interruption, save the occasional cawing of a venerable rook wiser in his generation than you are, On the other hand, if you should be in a gay mood, you have only to walk a few steps to find yourself at the Polo Ground, where you will spend as pleasant an afternoon with less fatigue than if you were amidst the glare and fashion of Hurlingham

ay! and see as pretty girls as the orbit of man can desire to behold. Then there is the Cricket Ground, where good play is to be enjoyed, especially when the Zingari come in the autumn and play* *the garrison on the viceregal ground.

And last of all there is the Fifteen Acres, health-giving and breezy as Epsom Downs itself. Here in the early morning are exercised the thoroughbreds of the Viceroy or Lord Iveagh, whose residence, Farmleigh, is close by; while in the afternoon come the riding parties arranged in the season at the balls over-night.

The Fifteen Acres has quite a reputation for matchmaking; for under the influence of the exhilarating air many a halting lover has found courage to ask the momentous question which has been hovering for many weeks or months upon his lips.

In old days the Fifteen Acres was the rendezvous of less peaceful characters. It was the Chalk Farm of Dublin; and here many famous duels were fought, the members of the House of Commons rushing off from Daly’s Club to adjust their political differences by making targets of one another on the greensward of the Park.

Neither were the learned members of the Bar behindhand. Curran was a first-rate shot, and in his duel with the Attorney-General, FitzGibbon (afterwards Lord Clare), used twelve-inch pistols. Scott, the Chief Justice (afterwards Lord Clonmell), met Lord Tyrawley (on an imaginary charge made by Lady Tyrawley), and also Lord Llandaff. The Chancellor of the Exchequer exchanged shots with the Judge of the Prerogative Court (Duignan), and with Henry Grattan. The Master of the Rolls encountered the Chief Secretary. Hutchinson (the Prancer – so called from his love of dancing. He was a very unpopular character, much lampooned by his enemies.**), **Provost of Trinity College, tried to take a dignified aim at Doyle, Master in Chancery; and Deane Grady, King’s Counsel, met Councillor O’Mahon and Colonel Campbell. Daniel O’Connell’s duel with D’Esterre was fought, not in the Phoenix Park, but at Naas.

The North Strand, near Clontarf, was as often selected for duels as Phoenix Park; but it was not considered quite so fashionable.

[The record of duelling in Ireland equals that of the German duellists. So late as the Fifties a man who had not stood fire was looked upon as having shown the “white feather” - a term of the greatest reproach.

In the last century duels in Ireland were as often fought with swords as with pistols, as at that period gentlemen carried swords appended to their promenading costume. This habit added considerably to the dangers even peaceable men were exposed to, from the fierce temper of some of the regular fire-eaters.

In an interesting article on duelling, published in *Macmillan’s Magazine *some years ago, mention is made of a Mr. Nagle, who met accidentally in Trafalgar Square, close to St. Martin’s Church, a gentleman with whom he had an old unsettled quarrel, and without the intervention of seconds to see fair play these two drew their swords, and Mr. Nagle fell mortally wounded.

The most celebrated duel with swords on record is that which took place between Mr. Mathews, the eccentric owner of Thomastown, ancestor to the first Lord Llandaff, with two gentlemen, total strangers to him. Mr. Creed and Captain Pack had come from London for the express purpose of giving the Dublin duellists a lesson.

On their arrival, hearing that Mr. Mathews had the reputation of being one of the first swordsmen in Europe, they made cause of quarrel by jostling his sedan chair as he was carried through the streets.

Mr. Mathews, imagining this was accidental, took no notice, until hearing from a friend that the English visitors were boasting that they had offered the champion swordsman an insult which he had not the spirit to resent.

On this Mathews, filled with righteous indignation, went, accompanied by his friend, to the tavern in Dawson Street where the English gentlemen were staying. Having locked the door, they handed their cards; and without a word Mathews and Pack drew their swords, and Macnamara (Mr. Mathews’ friend) and Creed drew theirs.

The combat lasted more than half an hour, when Creed and Pack bad to yield; they were in desperate condition, and their lives were for a long time in danger. They recovered in the end; and a close intimacy grew up between. them and their antagonists, who had shown the utmost attention to their victims.]

The Fifteen Acres is made use of for the purpose of large military displays, which delight the populace almost as much as races, the manoeuvres being followed with the utmost interest. The Commander-in-Chief with a brilliant staff is present, and the march past the flagstaff excites intense enthusiasm.

There are many agreeable associations connected with the Viceregal Lodge garden parties in the summer, and dances in the early autumn. The garden parties were inaugurated by that genial if somewhat undignified nobleman, Lord Carlisle, who went in for the pastoral amusements of syllabub parties, the viceregal cows with blue ribbons being milked on the spot by pretty milkers in fancy costume. This example was not followed by other Viceroys.

There have been, however, occasional departures from the established form of garden party-as when Lady Aberdeen, who courted popularity, appended to her invitation the condition that the guests were to come in the national dress. To show a good example she appeared as Hibernia in a green mantle or toga, with a gilt crown on her head, her little son wearing the green cutaway coat and knee breeches, and carrying the national shillelah in his hand. Like Lord Carlisle’s syllabub, this was not a success, the Irish being sensitive to a fault, and apt to suspect a latent sneer in such attentions.

There is, however, at all times a pleasant absence of formality in the viceregal “at homes” in the Lodge, especially in the hands of the present popular Viceroy and his amiable Countess, who seem to have got the right key to the complex character of the Irish Celt. The Zingari ball, given during the visit of the team to Dublin, is one of the autumn gaieties, when invitations are eagerly sought for.

There are many smaller lodges studded through the Park. These are occupied by the Court officials, who remove there after the Dublin season is over. The Chief Secretary’s and the Under-Secretary’s Lodges, and the cottage called the Hole in the Wall, are all within a walk; and so a pleasant circle is formed round the Viceroy. It is expected that the Chief Secretary should give an annual ball early in the autumn.

During Lord Carlisle’s second period of viceroyalty, 1860-63, the Chief Secretary was the late Sir Robert Peel, whose charming wife, daughter to the Marquis of Tweeddale, was full of *esprit *and originality. She was devoted to both music and the drama; and very pleasant were the parties given under her auspices at the Chief Secretary’s Lodge, the passport being, not rank, but social and agreeable gifts.

A prime mover in these entertainments was Mr. Walter Creyke, the Viceroy’s Private Secretary [Mr. Creyke was remarkable for his good looks. When in Rome he often sat to his artist friends as a model for “our Saviour”] it was under his direction that a really very fair performance of *Still Waters Run Deep *was given at the Chief Secretary’s Lodge in 1862, the part of “Potter” being taken by Lord Carlisle, who proved himself an excellent actor of the old school. The appearance of the Viceroy in any part but that of a sham King was not looked upon with favour, and Lord Carlisle’s example has never been followed.

Nearly 100 years before, the Ranger’s Lodge in the Park had often been the scene of private theatricals, Lord Mountjoy having a regular theatre, where he and his friend Captain Jephson performed all manner of parts with extraordinary ability. The beautiful Barbara, Lady Mountjoy, likewise took part in these entertainments, and many other ladies.

Sad recollections must, however, always attach to the Viceregal Lodge; for here was perpetrated, across the road and in view of the house, one of the foulest murders that ever disgraced a country.

The tragic elements of the deed will for all time cast a shadow over the scene of the murder of Mr. Burke and Lord Frederick Cavendish. It will be noted in the sketch how near the spot is to the Lodge; so close, in fact, that Lord Spencer actually saw from one of the windows the struggle going on between his two friends and the Invincible, never thinking for a moment it was more than a drunken quarrel between some roughs.

A cross, as seen in the sketch, marks the ill-fated spot. It is curious, in connection with this memento, that as often as it is paced there it is removed, the desecrators achieving their object in the night-time.

[Lines on the Phoenix Park Tragedy

Pay attention young and old to these lines I now unfold,

About this cruel and wicked dreadful deed,

Was committed we can see in Dublin’s fair city,

Upon the 6th of May, we’re sorry for to say,

About half past seven o’clock that Saturday night.

Mr. Burke who was well known, and Mr. Cavendish we own,

In the Phoenix Park they lost their precious lives.

CHORUS:

With daggers and with knives, they took away their lives,

But who they are, we can’t yet ascertain,

So let us hope and pray to the Lord each night and day,

That no Irishman for this crime will be blamed.

While walking out that day through the Park they felt quite gay,

And conversing with each other they had been,

When to their great surprise they were attacked without much noise,

By some men unknown whose hearts were full of spleen,

With knives and daggers, they then took their lives away,

And then decamped, but where we cannot say,

This crime so fearful has caused grief and sympathy,

In the hearts and minds of Irishmen today.

Our Irish members we can tell brave Davitt and Parnell,

John Dillon and Mr. Sexton does condemn,

The assassins of this tragedy no matter who they be,

They are denounced by every Irishman as well,

But who hope that our green isle will be free from this sad crime,

And may it soon be known by one and all,

That no true Irishman who loves his native land,

Would disgrace it for to be its sad downfall.

One great and good Lord Mayor, he’s also in despair,

And at this sad crime we all can see,

For he’s an Irishman and he loves his native land,

He would wish to see it in prosperity,

God grant before it’s long, ‘twill be known by everyone,

That no Irishman is guilty of this deed,

And let the world see from this foul act we are free,

And not to be despised by any rank or creed.]

To Chapter 11. To Picturesque Index. Home.