Stephen's Green

Stephen’s Green

Stephen’s Green - Indian Jungle. - Crusaders. - Lazar-House. - Sir Walter Scott. - The Beaux’ Walk. - George II.’s Statue. - Mrs. Pendarves. - Mrs. Clayton. - Heresy of the Bishop of Clogher. - Francis Higgins. - Lord Iveagh’s Mansion. - ” Burn-Chapel” Whaley. - Buck Whaley. - His Bet. - Dr. Chenevix Trench. - Clubland. - David Latouche’s House. - Angelica Kauffmann. - Lord Meath’s House. - Shelbourne Hotel. - Thackeray and the Hearth-Brush. - Rapparee Fields. - Pirates hung. - ” I’ll go to Stephen’s Green in the Cart.” - Surgeons’ Hall.

In the sombre and sad streets of Dublin,” writes Mr. George Moore, “there are two open spaces - Stephen’s Green and Merrion Square.” [Lockhart, who accompanied Sir Walter Scott on his visit to Dublin in 1825**, **speaks of it as *the most *extensive square in Europe. “We found,” he says, “young Walter and his bride established in one of the large and noble houses, the founders of which little dreamt that they should ever be let at an easy rate in garrison lodgings.”] The first, he tells us, has been reclaimed from its “Indian-jungle-like” state by a rich nobleman, while the other still flourishes in all its ancient dilapidation.

As a matter of fact, the sad streets of Dublin are enlivened by *five *very large squares, one of which Thackeray. calls “beautiful.” The term “reclaimed Indian jungle” is a poetic licence; it could not have applied to Stephen’s Green during the memory of the oldest inhabitant of Dublin. No doubt so far back as 1728 there was a certain portion of the Green unreclaimed. Only three sides were then built, and there still remained a large space of waste land. To pass through this portion of the Green after midnight was a service of danger; for not only was it infested by footpads who would relieve the wanderer of his purse and maybe his life, but he likewise ran the danger of falling into a deep ditch, which was usually a receptacle for the filth of the City.

The history of Stephen’s Green goes back to the time of the Crusaders, who, it was said, brought the fell disease of leprosy from the East. On the site of the Green a lazar hospital and church were erected, and placed under the care of monks, who ministered to the souls and bodies of those afflicted.

In the Reformation days hospital, church, and monks were swept away, and the Green remained a public common, the haunt of wild birds, especially snipe, which were attracted by the marshy nature of the land, and multiplied exceedingly. [In Harris’s “History of Dublin” mention is made of snipe-shooting as being a constant practice in Stephen’s Green, although at this time on three sides of the Green stood fine houses occupied by the nobility.]

In 1663 we find the burgesses of the City beginning to awake to the fact that such a large area as sixty acres might be turned to better advantage than feeding snipe. The Green was therefore parcelled out in lots, and seven years later (1670) the further step was taken of enclosing a certain portion by a thick hedge, outside which ran the deep ditch already alluded to. Inside the hedge a wide walk was made ‘between two rows of lime trees. Later on a high wall was added, when we must suppose the hedge was removed.

The wall does not appear in Malton’s engraving here reproduced;- but we have the ditch. Malton visited Dublin in 1775, quite a 100 years after the first steps were taken to make the Green habitable. It was then, as we can see by the print, a fashionable promenade, especially on Sundays after church, What a gay company could be seen walking in the Beaux’ Walk on the north side, which was more “the mode” than the French Walk on the west side, Leeson Walk on the south or Monk’s Walk’ on the east side. Each of these walks was a quarter of a mile in length.

[The Beaux’ Walk is constantly mentioned in the old memoirs. There had been a fashionable promenade of the same name at St. James’s Gate, where in 1732** **the *beau monde *then residing in the Liberties displayed themselves on Sunday. We read in “Baratariana” that one of the celebrated beauties of Dublin in 1767, Dolly Monroe, was so besieged by admirers that her only chance of getting fresh air was to make the round of Stephen’s Green at 6 o’clock a.m. The French walk was so called in honour of the French refugees. The Leeson Walk was so named after an eminent brewer, Joseph Leeson, afterwards created Earl if Milltown. The Monks Walk was named after Lord Monck, who had considerable property in the neighbourhood.]

At this period Van Nost’s fine equestrian statue of George II. had been placed in the centre of the Green, where it still remains, although it went through almost as many vicissitudes as King William’s statue in College Green. One dark night the horse’s leg was nearly cut away, and again, only for the watchman on duty, the King’s head would have been severed from his body. Dublin, however, rejoiced in the possession of three statues of his Hanoverian Majesty, one of which was taken down on the removal of old Essex Bridge. These statues were probably due to Lord Chesterfield’s desire to awaken a fictitious loyalty to the person of the King. The attempt was so far successful that in the rising of 1745 the Irish nation remained true to the reigning house - a result which was probably more the result of Chesterfield’s personal influence than any attachment to vicarious royalty.

From 1729 Stephen’s Green had been looked upon as a desirable quarter wherein to build the new houses which were rising on all sides to meet the exodus from the Liberties of the nobility and gentry. In 1731 Mrs. Pendarves (afterwards Mrs. Delany) was on a visit to Mrs. Clayton, wife to the Bishop of Clogher, who had a handsome house on the south side of the Green, No. 70.

All who have read Mrs. Delany’s Memoirs, edited by her grandniece, the late Lady Llanover, will remember the life-like account she gives of the society assembled at the Bishop’s house in Stephen’s Green. One seems to know all the characters, and to hear them talk: the pretty group of young faces gathered round the commerce table, while the elders played a solemn game of basset in another room; the flirtations of the great Dean of St. Patrick’s, now with Ann Donnellan, Mrs. Clayton’s sister, now with the fascinating Kelly, lively Miss Ussher, that “little fairy Wesley,” or with the more mature but still fascinating Mrs. Pendarves herself. Not less amusing is the account of the grand airs the. Bishop’s wife gave herself after his preferment, and how she queened it over poor Ann, her sister, and over Mrs. Pendarves, even after she becomes a D.D.’s wife. It is all delightful reading.

[The Bishop of Clogher, who came of the same family as Lord Sundon, whose wife possessed so strong an influence over Queen Caroline, was a man of much learning, although some of his writings were considered unorthodox. Bishop Clayton had early in his life embraced the tenets of the Arian heresy; but this fact, not being known, did not interfere with his being made Bishop of Killala, this preferment being due to the interest of his kinswoman, Lady Sundon, the favourite of Caroline of Anspach, George II.’s Queen. Further good fortune came in 1735**, **when he was translated to the more important See of Clogher. He continued to write books very unfit for one in his position. The last of these wandered so far from the doctrines of the Established Church as to make action in the matter necessary. Proceedings were accordingly taken against the Bishop in the Ecclesiastical Court, followed by a general summons to the superior clergy to meet at Primate Boulter’s mansion in Henrietta Street. Dr. Clayton was much alarmed at this step, fearing he should lose his bishopric. This fear (which was, in fact, a certainty) so preyed upon his mind as to induce a nervous fever, from the effects of which he died in 1758. Dr. Johnson was most indignant at a dignitary of the Church holding heretical doctrines. “He endeavoured” to raise a heresy amongst you,” said he to Dr. Campbell; ” but I believe without effect.” “I told him,” says Dr. Campbell, “one effect in the case of the parish clerk. His indignation was prodigious. ‘Ay,’ said he; ‘those are the effects of heretical notions upon the vulgar mind.’”]

Mrs. Clayton died at No.70, Stephen’s Green; and after her death the house was sold to Lord Mount Cashell, who enlarged and beautified it, giving it the dignified name of “Mount Cashell House.” This was a sort of lightning before death, for soon was to come pressure from creditors, foreclosure of mortgages, and finally extinction of all things in the great sale of the encumbered estates.

The Stephen’s Green mansion did not, however, find a buyer. It remained for many years a forlorn spectacle of former prosperity; the grass grew upon the steps once familiar to the tread of Swift, Berkeley, and other lights of Trinity College; and through the now broken panes in the windows the pretty faces of-Ann Donnellan and Mrs. Pendarves had often looked for coming lovers. Ah! how pathetically does a deserted house speak of its past histories, and lament its present decay!

One felt glad when at last Sir Benjamin Lee Guinness bought Mount Cashell House and its neighbour No. 72. These two. houses form the centre block of the fine mansion now in the possession of Lord Iveagh.

No. 72 was the residence of Francis Higgins, who began early in life his. remarkable career by inveigling Miss Archer, a young lady of good family into a marriage on the false pretence that he was a man of birth and property, his occupation being that of a waiter at a low tavern in the city. For this he was sent to prison. When he came out, his unfortunate victim was dead, and he started upon a new career as spy and informer. He became in course of time a wealthy man, and joined Lucas as proprietor of the *Freeman’s Journal. *He had a handsome house, and was often to be seen airing himself in the Beaux’ Walk dressed in the pink of the fashion, being the only; “buck” in Dublin who “carried gold tassels on his Hessian boots and wore violet gloves.”

[The recent revelations of the “secret service” under Pitt establish beyond doubt that the “Sham Squire,” as Higgins was called, supplied the Government with secret information at a very good price -£ 900 - for placing Lord Edward FitzGerald in their hands; John and Henry Sheares, not being such large game, only brought him £400** **or £500. Besides this method of making a fortune, he was a moneylender, as also a newspaper editor, and in these different capacities earned universal hatred. His grave at Kilbarrack had to be watched, the excited people declaring they would drag him out of his coffin. It was said that his body was removed, probably for sale to some man of science.]

A few doors from the dwelling of Francis Higgins we note two handsome stone-fronted mansions. The larger and more imposing of the two was built by Richard Chapel Whaley, of Whaley Abbey, Wicklow, commonly called Buck Whaley, [the term ‘buck’ was applied in the 18th century to a man of fashion] a well-known character in Dublin society. Mr. Whaley was a very wealthy, eccentric man, who had that eager desire for notoriety which is a feature in some rather empty minds.

He earned the sobriquet of ""Burn-Chapel” Whaley by his zeal against Papists. In his office of magistrate he headed the priest-hunting expeditions common in Ireland in the last century. On one occasion he set fire to a chapel, which was burned to the ground-a circumstance which gained him the hatred of the country people; and his second name being “Chapel,” they annexed to it the epithet of “Burn,” by which name he was known until his death. [A descendant points out that “Burn Chapel” and “Buck” were father and son. KF Oct. 2000]

One more story of this erratic individual. Having married somewhat late in life, it was a joyful surprise to him when his wife presented him with a Son and heir. To reward her for thus gratifying him; he gave her a cheque on the bank of Latouche & Kane, couched in the following terms:

My good Mr. Latouche,

You must open your pouch,

And pay my soul’s darling

One thousand pounds sterling.

The building of his mansion in Stephen’s Green was another freak, undertaken to dwarf by its superior size the one next door, built by Lord Clanwilliam. [Mr. Whaley’s second son married in 1788 Lady Anne Meade, Lord Clanwilliam’s eldest daughter] Mr. Whaley achieved his object, albeit the smaller house is far more elegant in design, bearing a strong resemblance to a Roman palace. The whole conception is eminently Italian, and the large window in the centre gives an air of distinction singularly wanting in its overgrown neighbour. The interior likewise shows the same evidence of refined taste. The ceilings are remarkable for their elegant ornamentation, while the original chimney-pieces were elaborately carved.

One of these experienced singular vicissitudes; for, being sold for a trifle to a broker in Dublin, it was after some years purchased by a Liverpool dealer, who desecrated it by varnish. It was, however, rescued from this degradation, and now adorns some grand London mansion.

No. 75, Stephen’s Green, was not long in the possession of Lord Clanwilliam, whose eldest son, Lord Gillford, married the Countess of Thun, and lived abroad. It was occupied during many years by Nicholas Ball, Judge of the Common Pleas in Ireland; and on his death passed into the hands of Cardinal Cullen, who had previously purchased Mr. Whaley’s house, which is well suited to the purpose of a university. The large lion which stands sentinel-like on the roof is said to have been the work of Van Nost.

The son so ardently wished for by Mr. Whaley inherited all his father’s desire for notoriety. The old magazines and memoirs are full of his not very creditable adventures, which involved him in in-numerable duels, and finally brought him to a miserable death. It was this gentleman who made the singular wager of £10,000 that he would undertake a journey to Jerusalem on foot, except where a sea passage was unavoidable, and that after playing ball against its walls he would return in the same way. All this he accomplished within the given time, 12 calendar months, when, having performed his bet; Mr. Whaley pocketed his £10,000. He was of course the hero of the hour, and mobbed wherever he went, besides being recorded in a street ballad.

It has always been stated that Mr. Whaley alone made this wager; but the real facts are as follows:

“Buck Whaley, Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Moore of the Eighteenth Foot, made the wager with the Duke of Leinster, Lord Drogheda, and others. The wager was for £30,000, £10,000 to each winner; the route was to Cyprus, thence to Jaffa, from there to Jerusalem, returning to Smyrna by Aleppo.”

For those who may care to read a picture of the town, I subjoin this curious ballad. The boxing chairmen and the monkeys are traits of the time. **

Whaley’s Embarkation**

*Tune: *“Rutland Gigg.”

One morning, walking George’s Quay,

A monstrous crowd stopped up the way,

Who came to see a sight so rare,

A sight that made all Dublin stare:

Balloons, a Vol.(unteer) review,

Ne’er gathered such a crew

As there did take their stand

This fight for to command.

Buck Whaley, lacking much some cash,

And being used to cut a dash,

He wagered full ten thousand pound

He’d visit soon the Holy Ground.

In Loftus’s fine ship

He said he’d take a trip;

And *Costello *so famed

The captain then was named.

From Park Street down through College Green

This grand procession now was seen:

The boxing chairmen flist moved on

To clear away the blackguard throng;

Then Whaley debonair

Matched forward with his bear;

And Lawlor too was there,

Which made Lord Naas to stare.

Next Heydon in her *vis-à-vis,

*With paint and ribbons, smile and glee,

As aide-dc-camp close by her side,

Long Bob [Uniacke]** **the *turkey-cock *did ride;

And Gillford’s Lord came next,

Who seemed extremely vext

To see the lady’s nob

So very close to *Bob.

In phaeton-and-six high reared,

Dudley Loftus now appeared;

A *monkey *perched was by his side;

Which looked for all the world his bride;

Poor Singleton in black,

Upon a dirty hack,

With heavy heart moved on

To see his friend begone.

And now behold upon the strand

This cargo for the Holy Land,

Bears, lapdogs, monkeys, Frenchmen, whores,*

*Bear-leaders, and independents poor;

Black Mark lounged in this crew

(He’d nothing else to do);

Peg Plunket [An actress popular in Dublin]** **on her horse

Was surely there of course.

His creditors, poor men! were there,

And in their looks you’d see despair;

For bailiffs he cared not a louse,

Because you know *“he’s in the house.”

*Cuff from the barrack board

Swore by *Great Temple’s Lord [Lord Temple, the Viceroy]

*This action to requite,

Tom should be dubbed a knight.

The boxing bishop - and at his back

Jack Coffee, alias *Paddy Whack -

*His Grace had come (long may he live!)

His benediction for to give;-

He trod (though did not know)

On Napper-Tandy’s toe,

Who lent his Grace a clout,

And so they boxed it out.

Now all embarked this motley crew,

Each minute lessened to the view,

And soon will plough the boisterous main,

*Wealth, honour; and renown to gain:

*Jerusalem’s barren land

And Egypt’s dreary sand,

Like wand’ring pilgrims roam,

To bring much knowledge home.

Another bet of Mr. Whaley’s was that he would leap from a window on to a mail-coach - a feat he performed by having the vehicle drawn up beneath his own house, or at Daly’s Club-house.

On the north side of the Green there are likewise fine houses. No. 27*, *Kerry House, built by the Earl of Kerry; became the property of his nephew William, second Earl of Shelburne, who was created Marquis of Lansdowne. Kerry House was used as a barrack in 1798. It was afterwards taken down, and four houses built on the site; these in 1820 were converted into an hotel (now called the Shelbourne). No.26 belonged to Lord Ranelagh, and No. 18 to Lord de Montalt. This house was decorated by Valdré.

Readers of Thackeray’s “Sketch Book” will recall that pleasant writer’s account of the Shelbourne Hotel as it was in 1849. Since then “the window kept open by a hearth-brush” has given place to a new order of things, and English visitors will find a well-ordered and commodious establishment differing in no way from a well-ordered hotel on this side of the Channel.

There is a winter garden, where a fountain discourses musically; and in the winter there is plenty of society-not perhaps of the first order, but similar to what one finds in this class of boarding-house.

Mr. Moore tells us that it would require the pen of Balzac to describe the inmates of the Shelbourne in the winter season. Sordid specimens of humanity can be found everywhere. One, need not go outside one’s own circle to meet “a husband-hunting old maid” or “a scandal-loving widow”; the type repeats itself, and must occasionally be met at the Shelbourne, as well as at the Grosvenor or the Langham Hotel.

No. 16 is the Palace of the resident Archbishops of the Church of Ireland. Here have lived in succession Lord George Beresford: William Magee, “whose life,” says Mr. FitzPatrick, “was all worry, work, plot, and counterplot”: Richard Whately, celebrated alike for his learning and his love of punning; one of the smartest of his puns was his riddle, “Why can a man never starve in the Great Desert? Because he can eat the *sand which is *(sandwiches) there. But who brought the sandwiches there? Noah sent *Ham *and his descendants *mustered *and *bred *(mustard and bread)”: William Chenevix Trench, a learned, amiable, and interesting divine; “he had,” said Dean Church, “a love of truth as not merely true but beautiful.” The list of works written by De. Trench are a record of extraordinary industry; and perhaps owing to this absorbing occupation, his Grace was singularly absent-minded. A lady well known in Dublin society used to tell a lively anecdote of how, sitting next the Archbishop at a dinner-party, she, to her surprise, found him constantly pinching her leg,. She. was about to remonstrate, when he. suddenly said, “I fear I am developing paralysis; my leg has no feeling, although I have pinched it many times.”

[An amusing anecdote is related of the Bishop’s absence of mind. ‘Returning, after some years, to the rectory of which he had been formerly the incumbent, he altogether forgot the years that had passed, and in the middle of dinner addressed Mrs. Trench, “My dear, this cook is another failure.” One can imagine the pleasant feelings of his host and hostess.]

The late lamented Archbishop Plunket seldom inhabited the Palace, where he died a few months since.

No. 36, North, was the residence of Felicia Hemans, the poetess; her poems at one time commanded great admiration, but are now relegated to oblivion.

The north side of the Green may be surely designated Clubland; for here is St. Stephen’s Club, which is said to rival the Four Courts in the manufacture of gossip. It is also connected with Sir Walter Scott, who in 1825 dined here with his son Captain Scott, whose regiment was quartered in Dublin. The club had then another and a far handsomer exterior, “its brick frontage being pierced by a handsome porte-cochère.”

Next to it is the United Service Club, where congregate the gallant sons of Mars, who can be seen at all hours of the day and night driving up upon jarveys, with much clatter of swords and a great deal of tall talk.

In no town is the military profession so much honoured as in Dublin City, where “the captain,” and the major, the little ensign, or even the pretty boy cornet, can have the best of good times. The dark-eyed daughters of Eblana are said to dote upon the military uniform - not in a vulgar manner, let it be understood; as a matter of fact, Irish girls are far less forward than the more demure belle of English society, and Saxon warriors recognize this fact by choosing them for partners, not only for a dance, but for life.

[An ill-natured story was current some years ago concerning a lady who invited to her ball *en masse *the officers of a newly arrived regiment of Dragoons. On the corner of the card was written the request, “Please come in uniform.” On the night of the entertainment there was no appearance of the sons of Mars; but towards midnight the hostess was informed that an orderly had arrived with a number of uniforms, the card of the owner being attached to each. After all, it was a sorry jest.]

Some of the finest houses in Dublin are to be found on the east side of St. Stephen’s Green, where in 1770 the Right Hon. David Latouche, of Marlay, built a magnificent residence, now in the possession of the representative body of the Church of Ireland. This house, which is very ornate in its character, was decorated by Angelica Kauffmann, who came to Ireland in 1771 after the tragic episode of her mock marriage with the impostor Brandt.

The ceiling of the back drawing-room presents her favourite ‘Aurora’. In the smaller drawing-room, or music-room, musical instruments are interwoven in the ornamentations that divide the compartment ceiling; over the chimney-piece the figures of Apollo and the Muses testify to Angelica’s share in the design.

And again on the wall dividing the smaller from the larger drawing-room we have her “Orpheus leading Eurydice from the Shades below.” In this room there is a beautiful marble chimney-piece with alto-relievo figures of the Borghese vase. On the ceiling appears again Aurora in her car, attended by her nymphs or Hours. The panels of the doors (which are painted light green) present long ovals of very graceful figures, classical in design, which are here reproduced. There can be no doubt that these figures and the “Aurora” are Angelica’s work, not only in design, but in actual accomplishment. The colours too are as fresh as if done in the present day, which unfortunately is not the case with much of the work she executed in Dublin.

Either owing to the evanescence of the mediums she used, or the neglect that befell all of beauty and art in a country so distracted by internal troubles, much of the decorative work done by this charming artist has been irrevocably lost.

In another room there are some frescoes on the wall, of which both the subject and the painter are said to be unknown. Any one conversant with Angelica’s style would have no hesitation in attributing them to her; they are weak in design, and carelessly handled. These faults point to her, while the subject is one specially affected by her - a shepherd moralizing, while youths and maidens dance in the distance.

When Robert Latouche, M.P. for Harristown (David Latouche’s son), removed to No. 11, Merrion Square, he sold his house in the Green to Lord Robert Tottenham, the then Bishop of Clogher; he, in 1830, resold it to Dr. Thomas Arthur; this gentleman let it to Chief Baron Pigot, who resided there for many years. In 1870 it passed into the hands of its present owners. The next house, No. 53, likewise built by David Latouche, and sold by him to Lord Carleton, is now a convent of the Loretto Order.

No. 56* *was the residence of the Earl of Meath, who was one of the last to join the exodus from the Liberties. His mansion, which was palatial in size, is now St. Vincent’s Hospital, under the charge of the Sisters of Charity.

The west side of Stephen’s Green, or Rapparee Fields, as it was called, was not built upon until the beginning of this century. There was a prejudice felt against it, as it was thought that at one time it was a place of execution for criminals, Gallows Hill being in close proximity to it. It would seem very doubtful that any executions took place during the latter half of the last century; as we have seen, the inhabitants of the Green were of the very upper-ten, “smart people,” who would never have suffered such an indignity in their neighbourhood. [This prejudice continued until within the last thirty or forty years; the reason was forgotten, but the evil reputation still clung to the locality.] Moreover, the official “hanging-places” were either Kilmainham (where Emmet was hanged), or Baggotrath (Baggot’s Castle), which then stood in the centre of pasturelands and quarries. Hither came the criminals from Newgate Prison in Cornmarket. The procession of these miserable wretches passed through Rapparee Fields, skirting the Beaux’ Walk on the north side of the Green, passed the burial-ground in Merrion Row, and so reached Baggotrath, on the site of which the Convent of the Sisters of Mercy now stands, the pasturelands being converted into Baggot Street.

[The *Gentleman’s Magazine *mentions the execution of four pirates taking place in Stephen’s Green in 1776; but this has been found to be an error, the date of the pirates’ execution being 1766, and the place Baggotrath Castle” (Gaskin’s “Irish Varieties”). Mr. FitzPatrick in his “Sham Squire” fixes Stephen’s Green as the place of execution of Mrs. Llewellyn in 1796. This is manifestly an error. The same writer gives a list of executions said to have taken place in the Green.]

[One of the broadsides of the day attacking the Provost of Trinity College, Hely Hutchinson, runs:

Oh, I’ll go to Stephen’s Green in a cart, in a cart,

Pressed down with age and sin,

With a tuck beneath my chin.]

The west side is principally remarkable for the fine building the College of Surgeons, erected in 1809, the frontage being from the design of William Murray. The medical profession has always flourished in Ireland. Dublin especially has produced men of distinguished ability both in surgery and medicine. The names of Sir Philip Crampton, Sir Henry Marsh, Sir Dominic Corrigan, and Sir John Banks can be quoted as eminent men of this century. Surgeon William Dease, whose Statue by Farrell, R. H.A., adorns the hall of the College, was a clever and fashionable surgeon of the last and early portion of this century, to whose exertions were mainly due the foundation of the College. As a medical man he was energetic, and appears to have been of a sensitive disposition, for, having failed in an operation, his distress of mind was so great as to cause him to take his own life.

In the year 1728 very little of the Dublin of today was existent. The streets on the north and south of the City could be counted upon the fingers of both hands. Sackville Street, or, as it was then called, Drogheda Street, was a narrow thoroughfare leading out country-wards, neither Cavendish flow, Rutland Square, nor Mountjoy Square being built.

On the south side there were College Green, Dawson Street with St. Anne’s Church, and Nassau Street, then called St. Patrick’s Well *Lane, *according to the tradition of the Middle Ages that here a miracle was performed by the great Irish saint, who, moved at the sufferings endured by the inhabitants from a dearth of fresh water (the Liffey being even then in bad repute), struck the earth with his staff in the name of the Lord, and on the spot a splendid fountain of purest water ran. This fountain was crowded on St. Patrick’s Day by water-drinkers. Jocelyn, a Cistercian monk, in his “Life of St. Patrick,” mentions it as “the fountain of Dublin, wide in its stream, plenteous in its course, sweet to the taste, and healeth many infirmities.”

So late as 1860 there was a spring well behind one of the houses in Nassau Street, and another in the Duke’s Lawn, which were freely granted to the use of the householders in Merrion Square and Merrion Street; the water was clear as crystal, and delicious to drink These wells are now dried up. The drying up of St. Patrick’s Well in 1729 formed the subject of a poem written by Swift, in which he represents St. Patrick reproaching England:

Where is the holy well that bore my name?

Fled to the familiar brook from whence it came.

The title of St. Patrick’s Well Lane, which was somewhat of a mouthful, was changed after the accession of William III. to Nassau Street, in compliment to his Dutch Majesty. Lest there should be any mistake in the matter, a marble tablet was placed on the front of one of the houses between Dawson Street and Grafton Street, presenting a life-size bust of William of glorious and immortal memory, with these lines at the foot:

May we never want a Williamite

to kick the breech of a Jacobite!

Leinster Street forms the upper portion of Nassau Street. There were originally only five houses-there are only five still. These were built in the middle of the last century, one by the Solicitor-General Tisdall, whose dark complexion gave him the sobriquet of Philip the Moor, under which title he figures in that curious work “Baratariana.” Arthur Wolfe, Viscount Kilwarden, who was murdered in Thomas Street, built the one now occupied by Messrs. Panton.

Our old friend Mrs. Pendarves, when visiting Dublin in 1731, gives a picture of Dublin as it then was .” The streets are narrow and the houses dirty-looking; but there are some good ones scattered about.”

And Arthur Young, in his “Tour through Ireland,” states:

“The nobility and gentlemen of Ireland live in a manner that a man of £700 in England would disdain.” A new order of things was, however, soon to replace this mode of life. So far back as 1728 there were signs that a change was at hand. The sons of the nobility and country gentlemen were sent to make the grand tour, and, returning with them minds enlarged, found their home surroundings unfit for their station. Some new squares and streets were planned on the north and south side of the City, and magnificent residences for the aristocracy arose in all directions.

James, 20th Earl of Kildare, was the first to lead the way, exchanging his residence in Thomas Street for the palatial mansion designed by Cassels in what was then called Molesworth Fields. When some friend remonstrated with Lord Kildare on building such a residence in so unfashionable a quarter of the City, he is said to have replied, “They will follow me wherever I go.”

And the result proved he was right. Lord Molyneux came from Peter Street, Lord Molesworth** **from Fishamble Street, Lord Meath from Kevin Street; in fact, the exodus was universal. In a few years a total change passed over the entire City, the rough mode of life described by Arthur Young giving place to an elegance amongst the upper classes which unfortunately was ill-suited to their fortunes: they spared no expense in building, furnishing, and mounting their establishments.

Gandon, who designed many of the public edifices, remarks upon the taste for building which prevailed in his time, and which he describes as amounting to a craze, every gentleman, however small his means, wishing to emulate his richer neighbour in having as fine a house, and if possible as fine an establishment The result of all this extravagant pretension was the lamentable finale in the Encumbered Estates Court.

In a limited space such as we have in this volume it would be impossible to draw attention to all the fine houses in Dublin, now, alas! for the most part Government or private offices. We will, however, present to our readers a selection of those to which is attached some story of the past - that past which holds for us an interest that the present can never attain. And as historical interest should naturally take the first place, we will begin with **

Charlemont House**

built in 1763 by James Caulfield, first Earl of Charlemont. This historic old house stands in a commanding position on the north side of the New Gardens, or Rutland Square, as they were later called The New Gardens had been a bowling-green, beyond which, in the direction of Great Britain Street, there were some thatched cottages and a “noddy” or cab-stand. It was this plot of ground that Dr. Bartholomew Mosse purchased for the fine hospital he erected, much to the dissatisfaction of the adjacent neighbourhood. Their discontent was somewhat lessened when he turned the bowling-green into a garden, laid out somewhat after the manner of Vauxhall, with a coffee-room and orchestra. Bands of music and public singers were engaged, and there were illuminations on all festivals.

The gardens were a great attraction to the neighbourhood, although their being enclosed by a high wall must have somewhat spoiled the effect. Lord Charlemont, having chosen this situation for his family mansion, attracted others to follow his example; and later his side of the square was dubbed. Palace Row, from having five houses occupied by the nobility side by side.

Charlemont House was the outcome of the Earl’s long wanderings abroad, and was built to contain hisvast collections of statuary, intaglios, and paintings. The design was originally that of Sir William Chambers; but as the. Earl was one of those mentioned by Gandon as possessing a taste for architecture, we cannot but think that he materially interfered with the great architect’s plan, there being grave defects in Charlemont House, which make it by no means perfect.

Outside it is imposing, being slightly out of line with the frontage of the adjoining houses, with which it is connected by two curved winged walls with balustrades. These are mentioned in the following letter, written by Sir William to the Earl: “I have sent herewith a plan of the manner in which I think the sweepstakes should be ornamented. As you cannot have a court deep enough to turn the carriages in without throwing the house too far back to be an ornament to the street, I have designed the entrances with piers at the two extremities of the court, and the space between them may be closed with iron grilles, which will look well.”

[The sweepstakes are indicated in the illustration Charlemont House is the fifth.]

The grilles, however, were left out, a change which materially affects the exterior of the house. The interior, despite some defects, is very imposing.

The entrance hall is dignified by four Corinthian columns. The parlour on the right hand was formerly a reception-room, hung with portraits of the family and the intimate friends of the Earl. The two. front drawing-rooms opened into one another, and formed a picture gallery, which had a great reputation in its day. It is probable, however, that if Waagen had inspected it he would have found that many of the so-called original Rembrandts and Titians were merely good copies, as in the early part of this century an extensive manufacture of such was carried on, to the discomfiture of the present owners.

Lord Charlemont, however, did possess three undoubted originals - “Judas’s Repentance,” and Hogarth’s two masterpieces “The Gates of Calais” and “The Lady’s Last Stake” - this being the last picture painted by Hogarth, and for it Lord Charlemont gave the artist’s widow £100 - a small sum for such a chef-doeuvre.

The principal feature of the interior of Charlemont House was the Library. This belongs to a separate building, divided from the house by a garden. It is a finely proportioned room with five Corinthian pilasters on each side, the bookshelves being originally placed between these pillars. The room is lighted by Diocletian windows in the manner of the Chapel at Trinity College. “Never,” says the late Mr. John Prendergast, [Author of the “Cromwellian Settlement in Ireland,” and other works of interest connected with Irish history] “shall I forget the reverential awe with which I first found myself in the Library of Charlemont House. We had not then learned to make a mock of all that was dignified and self-sacrificing in the past. Here was the favourite haunt of that father of his country, the Volunteer Earl. Here he took counsel with his friends, Flood, Grattan, and Langrishe; and here he spent his leisure time in literary pursuits, for literature and politics were the passion of his life.”

Miss Edgeworth describes a visit she paid to Charlemont House, and her admiration for the Library and the effect of the beautiful vestibule with the presence of the Venus de Medici. She gives a lifelike touch to her narrative by introducing “the little decrepit, tottering man, the sad owner of all these treasures, who received his guests with such courtly grace, such a countenance, such agreeable manners. As they admired this, that, and the other,” continues Miss Edgeworth, “he said, ‘Come into my sanctum sanctorum, and I’ll show you my greatest treasures.’ This sanctorum was the medal-room, and among the treasures was the onyx with head of Queen Elizabeth, an intaglio of the seventeenth century. A sculptor had carved an admirable head and likeness of the Queen on part of the hard gem, which was about three inches in length, the uncut portion being left in the natural state.”

[The Library contained rare and valuable books; there were first folios of Shakespeare and early quartos, each play separate. The chimney-piece was of white marble, and was designed by Sir William Chambers. This, the Corinthian capitals from the Rockingham Library, and the solid St. Domingo doors, are at Moy, the present Viscount’s seat in Tyrone.]

From his biographer we learn that Lord Charlemont’s father died when the future Earl was a child, and that he was never sent to either school or college.

He was, however, fortunate in his tutor, Edwin Murphy, who remained all through his life his pupil’s friend and adviser It was through Murphy’s wise counsels that the young nobleman escaped from the dangers that surrounded him in a city like Dublin, where before he was seventeen he was enticed into card-playing and other dissipations. His Aristotle - as he was wont to call Murphy - rescued him in time, by inducing him to go abroad in the hope of weaning him from more dangerous pursuits at home.

In Italy he spent five years, which were not altogether devoted to cultivating a taste for the fine arts, as it was said that an Italian marchese, one of his many loves, essayed to poison him; and although she did not succeed, she left her faithless admirer a legacy of ill health. “From this time his eyes were affected, and he led the life of an invalid, drinking mint tea and other slops.”

The Earl, according to his tutor, was in a mild way a follower of Don Giovanni-at least so far as worshipping at 1,003 shrines. Neither does his friend of later years deny that he was an ardent admirer of the fair sex. On a scrap of crumpled paper, yellow and faded with age, Mr. Prendergast found the following doggerel on the Dublin beauties of 1745:

Alas! how grand it is to sing

Justly thy praises, Fanny King!

And it is impossible in dull prose

To tell thy beauties, Miss Ambrose.

[Miss Ambrose, or “the dangerous Papist,” as she was called by Lord Chesterfield, was celebrated by the well-known verses addressed to her by the same nobleman when she appeared decked in orange lilies. For memoir of Miss Ambrose, see “Celebrated Irish Beauties,” by Frances Gerard.]

Lord Charlemont in his old age sat down to write a poem called, “The Revolutions of my Heart from the Reign of Queen Elizabeth the First to that of Queen Mary the Great,” as he always styled his wife; but he gave up the task, or perhaps he thought Queen Mary the Great might not approve of so many predecessors in his affections, she being a lady of much decision of character. She was a Miss Hickman; and rather a pretty story is told of her innocent manner of showing her love, which so touched the object of it that he at once laid his coronet at her feet. That the Earl was a man of a lovable nature is shown by his correspondence with his friends. We find Beauclerk writing to him from London: “If you do not come here, I will bring the club over to Ireland to live *with you, *and that will drive you here in your own defence. Johnson shall spoil your books, Goldsmith pull your flowers, and Boswell talk to you; stay *then *if you can. ”

Lord Charlemont sometimes indulged in satirical attacks upon his friends. One of these, Andrew Caldwell by name, was remarkable alike for his social qualities and for his extreme ugliness. In the Charlemont papers we find this ballad: *

*Andy’s Nose

All you who choose a wondrous theme,

The traveller’s vaunt, the poet’s dream,

Of miracles I sing the cream -

The Nose of Andy Caldwell.

Achilles, though in Styx besteeled,

The good Aeneas too must yield,

And Milton’s devil quit the field

To Nose of Andy Caldwell.

Seven wonders of the world we’ve heard

Through every age have been revered

In scorn of art till Nature reared

The Nose of Andy Caldwell.

Eclipsed, the Rhodian sun must wail

Between whose legs whole fleets can sail,

And pyramids their pride must veil

To Nose of Andy Caldwell.

Tom Arthur’s nose is vast in size,

And that which grows ‘twixt Farnham’s eyes,

Yet both of these must yield the prize

To Nose of Andy Caldwell.

Another warm friend was Rockingham, the English statesman; during whose administration legislative independence was given to Ireland. Rockingham dying three months later, Lord Charlemont erected to his memory a sort of oratory to perpetuate the name of- one who had conferred such a benefit upon the country he loved. The Rockingham Library contained Nollekens’ bust of the statesman, and a- series of terra-cotta busts of the Caesars copied from the Capitoline Museum in Rome. No truer patriot ever lived than Lord Charlemont. It may be said that his life was devoted to the welfare of Ireland. To make her capable of a certain measure of self-government was the aim of his hopes; and to further this desire he threw himself with ardour into any scheme likely to strengthen the national character.

To him was due in a great measure the formation of the Volunteers, a body of men who reflected the greatest credit upon the country that gave them birth. In their ranks were to be found men of the highest position, all working together for the same end-the maintenance of law and order. Lord Charlemont was the Colonel of the Dublin Division of the Volunteers; and on the days when their reviews were held, a guard of honour was detached to wait upon the Earl at his house in Rutland Square, to escort him to College Green, where a vast crowd assembled, the windows of Daly’s Club being full of the beauties of the day.

In the engraving already given [Chapter 4] we see the Volunteers firing *a feu de joie *round King William’s statue. One of the fair occupants of the windows of Daly’s Club was the Princess Dashkoff, a Russian lady, whose charms, it was said, had made some impression upon Lord Charlemont, and that his devotion to the fair stranger was causing some uneasiness to Queen Mary the Great; this, however, was probably only the idle gossip of the day.

Lord Charlemont’s later years were saddened by what he considered the fatal blow about to be struck at Ireland’s independence through the passing of the Act of Legislative Union. He often declared that he would never live to see the blow struck; and curiously enough his prophecy was correct. Feeble in body and distressed in mind, he passed out of life August, 1799, some months before the Act of Union was made law by a majority of three votes!

At this time there were 120 resident peers in Dublin, of which eight had houses in Rutland Square, where dwelt also two viscounts and two bishops.

[“On the north side the Earls of Ormonde, Charlemont, Bective, Grandison, Longford, Farnham, Enniskillen, and Erne; Viscounts Wicklow and Caledon; the Bishops of Kildare and Limerick.” - From” The Complete List of the Resident Peers in Dublin prior to the Act of Union,” published in the Irish Times newspaper of October 19, **1888. This useful and interesting relic of the past glories of the Irish capital is from the pen of Mr. Robert Armstrong.]

It was in Charlemont House that the patriot Earl died, it may truly be said, if not of a broken heart, of the disappointments which life had brought to him. All the fine promises with which he had started his career had been scattered, and he had no hope left for the country he had loved so well. It was a melancholy end; and so too was the fate of the house he had built with such care and stored with such treasures.

After the Act of Union the sear of neglect and decay settled down upon Rutland Square and the localities adjoining it. The houses occupied by the nobility were either sold for a song or remained untenanted and neglected. Most of these are now public offices of one kind or another. Charlemont House remained until some 30 years ago in the possession of the family. The venerable Lady Charlemont, whose beauty was sung by Byron and Moore, lived there in her later years; and during the lifetime of James Molyneux, last Earl of Charlemont, occasional flashes of gaiety lit up the old house, as when Elizabeth Countess of Charlemont appeared as Peg Woffington in Tom Taylor’s comedy of *A Christmas Dinner, *her dress being the exact copy of Pond’s portrait of the actress, which had been in the Charlemont Collection. This was, however, but a lightning before death; the doom of Charlemont House was at hand. It is now over 30 years since the mansion was sold to the Government, who have made of it an office for the collection of stamp duties. Its fine rooms are partitioned off to meet the requirements of official red-tapism. Sic transit gloria mundi.

To Chapter 7. To Picturesque Index. Home.