House with Traditions 2

House with Traditions (Continued)

Aldborough House. - Eccentric Conduct of Edward, Second Earl. - Building of Stratford House and Aldborough House. - Fate of Aldborough House. - Lady Aldborough. - Holy Paul. - Tyrone House. - Powerscourt House. - The Vicissitudes of Moira House. - Leinster House. - Mornington House. - Kildare Street. - Kildare Street Club. **

Aldborough House**

The history of Aldborough House is interwoven with that of the Stratfords of Merivale, who trace their descent so far back as Alfred the Great, and who claim that one of their ancestors sat in the Parliament of Edward III. as Baron Stratford-upon-Avon, this barony being one of the tithes of Aldborough.

Robert Stratford, a younger branch of the house of Merivale, came to Ireland in 1660 to push his fortunes. He settled in the small town of Baltinglass, in the country of Wicklow, and, as way the way with all English settlers, soon made his way to the front.

Before his death in 1669, he had purchased large estates in Leinster and Munster. His son and heir, Edward Stratford followed his father’s example, adding Great and Little Belan, in the county of Kildare to the family estates.

This Edward Stratford was an ardent supporter of William of Orange, and on the King’s march to Limerick entertained his Majesty at Belan, and contributed 2,000 sheep and 200 oxen towards the support of the army, for which faithful service he was rewarded by a letter of thanks from the King’s hand and the offer of a peerage, which he declined.

In George III.’s reign, however, John, the younger son of Edward Stratford, was created Baron of Baltinglass. This was in 1763. In 1776 he was advanced to the dignity of Viscount Aldborough, of Belan, and in 1777 the further honour was bestowed of making him Earl of Aldborough, of the Palatinate of Upper Ormond. There seems to have been no particular reason for these honours, unless it was that he loyally voted with the Government in the Irish House of Lords, and wrote a pamphlet, too dreary for words, on the true interests and resources of the King of Great Britain and Ireland.

His Lordship did not long survive his literary effort, and dying in 1779, he was succeeded by his eldest son, Edward, second Earl, with whom commences the eccentricities of the Aldborough family.

This nobleman in his youth had a certain air of fashion and a pleasing address, which excused his plainness; and his fine manners, combined with a little knowledge of the classics, gave him considerable influence over his county neighbours. He was of an arrogant, ostentatious turn of mind, quarrelsome and vindictive, seldom on good terms with his brothers, John, Paul, and Benjamin.

On one occasion, after one of the usual quarrels, the Earl conceived the extraordinary notion of making his sister, Lady Harriett Stratford, the receiving officer for the borough of Baltinglass. This would not have excited much, if any, attention in our day, when we have women Poor Law guardians and women canvassers. In the last century, however, such an innovation was looked upon with disgust.

The brothers John and Benjamin Stratford, being more disgusted than any on else, resisted the innovation, and a regular stand-up fight took place in the constituency.

Lady Harriet was supported by a number of female friends, who, despite their sex, were badly hurt by the other side. The whole affair made a terrible uproar, and informations were lodged against the ladies. Benjamin and Paul were, however, triumphant, and retained the post of receiving officers.

Lord Aldborough’s next and most famous quarrel was his difference with Lord Clare, Chancellor of Ireland, concerning an equity case with Mr. Beresford, in which he had been nonsuited in the Court. Chancery; and on his appealing to the House of Lords, Lord Clara confirmed the ruling of the lower Court.

On this the Earl, who, like his father, was fond of his pen, took refuge in a pamphlet, in which he belaboured his enemy soundly. Amongst other forms of abuse, he related the story of a skipper of one of the Dutch canal-boats, who had extorted from his Lordship, when on his travels, much more money than he had a right to.

On landing at Amsterdam, Lord Aldborough determined to appeal, and next morning, at the early hour of nine, he appeared in the court-house. The narrator of the story does not tell us how he managed to express himself in a foreign tongue to the judge, whose large-brimmed hat concealed his face; but before the case was half over he disclosed his identity as that of the skipper, and in a stentorian voice decided against the Earl with full costs, ordering him out of the court. Enraged at such an insult, Lord Aldborough entered an appeal, and waited six days in Amsterdam for it to come off; when lo and behold! on entering the court, he saw the judge who was to try the appeal was again the skipper who had decided the cause in his own favour.

The application of this story to the way in which justice was administered in the Superior Court of Dublin was manifest, and roused the indignation of the Peers, who considered his Lordship had been guilty of a gross breach of privilege. He was summoned before the House of Lords, when the libellous pamphlet was read by Lord Clare. Lord Aldbororough, in a bold and courageous speech, acknowledged it as his composition, and was at once sentenced to spend six months in Newgate Prison, where he kept a sort of regal state, entertaining his friends and committing many extravagances.

The Earl was a prominent figure in the troubles of 1797-98; he would drive about the country in his coach with outriders, assuring every one of his countenance and protection - assurances which were badly received by a certain Major McPherson in command of a regiment stationed near Belan Castle.

“Countenance and protection!” repeated the fiery Scot. “As for your protection, my Lord, Major McPherson is always able to protect himself; and as for your countenance, I would not tak’ it for your earldom!”

It was for this nobleman that Adam built the noble residence in Stratford Place, called Stratford House, which, until recently, has been the residence of Sir John Leslie, of Glasslough, and now belongs to his son-in-law.

[It would seem natural to suppose that the whole area of Stratford Place was the property of Lord Aldborough, and that be sold it in building lots. Cosway occupied two houses at different times. No. 3, now the residence of the Hon. Gerald Ponsonby, is a fine specimen of an Adam house.]

This fine house, which fronts Oxford Street, has a solid air of grandeur very imposing, being most Adamesque in style. Inside there are lofty rooms and a noble staircase, with the usual luxuriance of ornamentation and carving which distinguishes all Adam’s houses.

The ceilings, which were painted by Angelica Kauffmann, show the artist at her best. In the Cupid Drawing-room the Paphian boy is painted, as Goethe said, “with the pencil of fascination,” so sportive is his representation in every mood. In the dining-room there is an oval by the same artist-her favourite subject, the nymph Aglaia bound to a tree by the mischievous Cupid. It is now well known that it was looking at this work of Angelica’s that prompted Miss Thackeray to give the reading public her ever popular “Miss Angel.”

Lord Aldborough married twice, his first choice being Barbara Herbert, an heiress, and cousin to Lords Pembroke, Guildford, and Carnarvon. This lady dying in 1787, his Lordship in the following year contracted a second marriage with Elizabeth, only daughter of Sir John Henniker, Baronet, and niece to the Dowager-Duchess of Chandos.

It was for this lady that Aldborough House was built in ‘793 The noble pair had found out that dwelling in the same mansion was not favourable to the continuance of pleasant domestic relation-at least, so the story went.

There is no doubt that her Ladyship had a sharp tongue, which she was at no pains to bridle. It was said of her that, “as steel, the edge of her wit was so keen and polished that the patient was never mangled.” She called her brother-in-law, the Rev. Paul -Stratford, Holy Paul, from the fact of his having shown the utmost resignation when his residence, Mount Niel, one of the oldest of the family seats in the possessidn of the Aldboroughs, was burnt to the ground; it was largely insured, and when the people, who had assembled in hundreds, were doing their utmost to save the furniture, this admirable man would not allow any interference with the designs of Heaven. “Never fly in the face of Heaven, my friends; when the Almighty resolved to burn my house, He most certainly intended to destroy my furniture. I am resigned - the Lord’s will be done.’

Holy Paul did not, however, evince a like resignation to Heaven’s decree when, later on the insurance company absolutely refused to pay any portion of the damage done by the fire.

To return to Aldborough House. The most curious part of the story was that already Lord Aldborough had a large house in Denmark Street, near Lord Belvedere’s. This, however, was entailed; and as his Lordship had no children by either of his wives, all entailed property passed to his next brother.

Lord Aldborough may therefore have desired to leave his widow a suitable residence. Be that as it. may, the house was begun in 1793, from designs by Sir William Chambers, on a very extravagant, fanciful plan, Lord Aldborough changing his mind constantly during the course of the building. It got finished somehow, and must have been very handsome, with its two stone lions and grand courtyard. It stood fronting the street, with sweepstakes, as in Charlemont House (also designed by Chambers), at each side.

Inside it is palatial - the hall large and lofty, the principal staircase magnificent, the reception-rooms large. After that it rambles off in different directions, there being a terrible waste of room in the matter of passages. There were splendid chimney-pieces (one was said to have been made out of one block of lapis-lazuli), and a chandelier of Waterford glass that cost £1,000. Reports were rife as to many other things, for Dublin had argus eyes upon his Lordship’s doings.

It does not appear that any one ever inhabited the house; the Countess absolutely refused to enter it, and after the Earl’s death in 1801 she took herself off to Paris. I am by no means sure she did not establish herself there in his lifetime; anyhow, she rather distinguished herself when the allied armies occupied the French capital in 1814.

The Union destroyed all chance of Aldborough House becoming a family mansion; it remained closed for many years, growing each year more dilapidated. In 1813 it was sold by the then Lord Aldborough for £4,800 (it had cost £40,000) to Professor Van Feniagle de Luxembourg, who had invented a new method of conveying instruction to youthful minds. Aldborough House had to go through many alterations to fit it for its new destination. Wings were added, one for a chapel, the other for a large hall for exhibitions. When these alterations were completed, the last touch was given by changing the name of Aldborough to “The Luxembourg.”

The new undertaking was a success, and continued to be so until the death of the Professor in 1820 gave it its first blow; it languished for another ten years, and finally had to be closed.

Aldborough House remained, one might say, on the rates; it belonged to no one, and was Government property. In 1854*, *when the Crimean War was at its zenith, the old house was converted into a barrack for her Majesty’s troops waiting to embark for the seat of War. It was a daily amusement of the idlers in the neighbourhood to watch the military drill from the top of the high wall round the house.

But this excitement passed away, and nothing disturbed the oppressive silence of Aldborough House for forty long years, until two years ago another freak of the authorities turned it into a store for the engineering department of Government Telegraphs.

It was late on a spring evening that my friend and I visited Aldborough House; the light was decaying, and the ghostly stillness of the empty rooms gave us a nervous feeling which neither liked to confess. One could fancy legions of ghosts wandering through these empty rooms, wringing their faded hands over the extinction of their descendants, for the Aldboroughs are extinct. The seven or eight family seats are either sold or gone to decay. Belan is a ruin, so too is Baltinglass; the London mansions are in the hands of strangers.

Despite its situation, which is none of the best, the narrowness of the street spoiling the general effect, there is no more elegant mansion than **

Powerscourt House, in North William Street,**

built in 1771 by Richard Wingfield, Viscount Powers-court. This nobleman, who was called “the French lord,” presumably from the elegance of his manners, had made, like Lord Charlemont, the grand tour, and had returned to his own country with a passion for art which showed itself in the beautiful design of Powerscourt House, the windows of which would not disgrace a Venetian palace.

According to the old historian Camden, the Powerscourts were famous in days of old for their knighthood. They were English by descent, and were imported to Ireland by James 1. One of the family, however, married Cromwell’s daughter Anne, which would account for a certain grim, almost Puritan look in some of the family pictures. The writer remembers seeing some years ago, at the exhibition of national portraits in Dublin, the picture of one Sir Richard Wingfield (in whose favour the old viscountcy was revived), which had all the air of a Cromwellian soldier, with short wiry hair, scarf, and armour.

There are no associations connected with Powerscourt House. The French lord, who had made it his hobby, spending large sums, upon beautifying his fancy, only occupied it for a couple of years, so far justifying the adage concerning wise men building houses. After the Union his successor sold it to the Government for the ridiculous sum of £15,000. It did not long retain the quasi-dignity of a Government office, but passed into the hands of the well-known silk merchants Messrs. Ferrier & Pollock.

A curious legend is said to be connected with the Powerscourt family. In the days when priest-hunting was one of the celebrated -Major Sirr’s pastimes, an unfortunate Catholic priest was hunted from place to place by a party of Soldiers. He at last found himself close to the gates of Powerscourt, the residence of Lord Powerscourt, near Enniskerry; it was a summer’s evening, and his Lordship at the time was entertaining some friends, who were enjoying the air after dinner, when suddenly the hunted priest rushed up the avenue followed by his pursuers. The daughter of one of the ladies present described to the writer the tradition which had descended to her - how the unfortunate priest implored protection (which it was impossible for Lord Powerscourt to give), how he clung to the skirts of the ladies present, and how he was dragged away and killed *on the lawn. *The very spot can still be pointed out, as there the grass, it is said, has never grown, in spite of every effort made to cultivate it.

The present Lord Powerscourt is a man of much artistic knowledge, his judgment in the matter of pictures and sculpture being of considerable value He is likewise of patriotic spirit and an excellent resident landlord. **

Tyrone House, the Residence of the Beresford,**

Tyrone House, in Marlborough Street, now an educational institution, is well worth a visit, being the first stone mansion of the nobility built on the north side of Dublin. It is a good specimen of Cassels’ solid style, but it is by no means his best work. The Venetian window, although inferior to that of Powerscourt, lends a certain grace to the otherwise somewhat cold exterior of Tyrone House. The interior is well designed; there is plenty of space (a marked feature of Cassels’ houses), and there is a grand staircase.

Tyrone House was built in 1740 at the cost of £26,000 by Sir Marcus Beresford, who in 1745 was created Earl of Tyrone (in right of his wife, Baroness le Poer, daughter and heiress. of James, third Earl of Tyrone). In 1789 Lord Tyrone was created Marquis of Waterford.

Tyrone House has, like Charlemont House, its associations. It is intimately connected with John Beresford, who played a leading part in the tangled skein of Irish politics. Originally of English descent, the Beresfords were “planted” in Ireland by James I. They were men of much force of character; and as such natures are prone to be, they were somewhat intolerant.

With all their faults, they were a fine race; and to John Beresford, the Commissioner of Public Works, Dublin owes much gratitude, as he gave his best efforts to improving the commercial interests and beautifying the City itself. That he was frustrated in the execution of many of his plans for the benefit of the City was due to the deplorable condition of the country, torn as it was between the rival parties and creeds. John Beresford’s memory has been charged with many acts of hideous cruelty; it was said that in Marlborough Street, quite close to Tyrone House, he had a riding school, where he had his unfortunate prisoners flogged almost to death.

[His correspondence with James Gandon shows Beresford in a different light; he seems to have been a man of culture and taste. His letters are very charming.]

Time, however, which softens many prejudices, allows us to judge Beresford by a fairer standard than that of those who lived nearer to his time, and later historians have done much to clear his memory from the cruelty attributed to him.

His best friends, however, cannot exculpate him from an abnormal greed for place. The list of offices he held tells its own tale, and accounts for much of his unpopularity. He married Barbara, one of the three lovely Montgomerys, who have been handed down to us by Sir Joshua Reynold’s brush.

[The large picture of the three sisters hangs in the National Gallery, Trafalgar Square. It was painted for Luke Gardiner (first Lord Mountjoy), and presented to the nation by his son, the Earl of Blessington (see “Celebrated Irish Beauties,” by F. A. Gerard).] **

Moira House, now the Mendacity Institution**

If old houses could a tale unfold, what a piteous story could Moira House tell us of its dismal vicissitude: once the resort of the highest, the loveliest, and the wittiest men and women of their generation, now the home of the aged, the poor, and the imbecile – its very stature (I speak of the outward shell) dwarfed to suit the degradation to which it has been reduced.

Our sketch represents Moira House as it was at the beginning of the present century, when the massive stone mansion was surrounded with the most beautiful gardens, and was secluded by the row of large trees which extended along Arran Quay to within a few feet of Bloody Bridge. “Upwards of sixty years ago, says a writer in 1848, “I was, during my early youth, a frequent guest at Moira House, a princely dwelling situated on Ussher’s Quay, which at that time was a fashionable quarter of Dublin.

The family name of the Earls of Moira is Rawdon: they had been faithful adherents of the Stuarts. In 1762 the fourth Baronet of the name was raised to the dignity of an Earl. This nobleman had passed his youth and early prime abroad and in England, where he had moved in the very best company of the *élite *of the Court of George III.

To his last hour he retained the polished manners of that society. Lord Charlemont, who was his intimate friend, used often to say that he was one of the best-bred men of his age. His courtesy, we are told, was always flowing and never wearying, directed to *every one, *but *still measured - *“never losing sight of the humblest as well as the highest of his company, never displaying his rank, and never departing from it.”

To this nobleman were due the interior and very beautiful decorations of Moira House, which were executed by Healy, an eminent Dublin artist. John Wesley, who paid a visit to Moira House in 1775, “was surprised to observe, though not a more grand, yet a far more elegant room than any he had ever seen in England. It was an octagon, about 20 feet square and 15 or 16 high, having one window (the sides of it inlaid throughout with mother-of-pearl) reaching from the top of the room to the bottom, the ceiling, sides, and furniture of the room equally elegant”; and, adds Wesley, with prophetic inspiration, “must *all *this pass away like a diream?”

Moira House was the scene of the most magnificent entertainments and assemblies. It was here that in 1777 Charles Fox was introduced to Henry Grattan, and all contemporary writers mention the grand scale of the hospitalities dispensed by the Earl and Countess.

Lord Moira was fortunate in his wife, who was a daughter of the celebrated Countess of Huntingdon, and was a woman of high intellectual gifts. [Lord Moira had married three times, each time to the daughter of an Earl.] She found pleasure in gathering round her a circle where literary or professional distinction was the first claim to admittance. Lady Moira, after her husband’s death in 1793, continued to reside at Moira House. We find constant mention of her and of her son Francis, second Earl, in the Diaries of Moore and Lady Morgan, Grattan’s Life, and other contemporary books.

The hospitality of Moira House seems to have been on a splendid scale; nor is it Wanting in tragic associations. It Was here, on May 18, 1798, that the beautiful “Pamela,” wife to the unfortunate patriot Lord Edward FitzGerald, was spending the evening, when within a few yards her husband was betrayed into the hands of his pursuers. A fierce conflict took place, in which Captain Ryan lost his life and Lord Edward received a severe wound.

He was taken at first to the Castle, but afterwards removed to Newgate, where he died. While he was at the Castle, the Lord-Lieutenant’ (Cornwallis) sent Mr. Watson, his Private Secretary, to assure him that every attention compatible with his position as State prisoner should be extended to him, and that if he had any confidential communication to send his wife he would in all fidelity and secrecy convey it to hen “Nothing, nothing,” was the reply, “but oh! break it to her tenderly.”

“As soon as Edward’s wound was dressed,” writes Lady Louisa Conolly, “he desired the Private Secretary at the Castle to write for him to Lady Edward and to tell her what had happened. The Secretary carried the note himself. Lady Edward was at Moira House, and a servant of Lady Mount Cashell’s came soon after to forbid anything being said to Lady Edward that night.” The next morning Lady Edward was told, and bore it better than was expected. She remained at Moira House (experiencing from Lady Moira kindness that surpassed “that of common mothers”) until an order from the Privy Council obliged her to leave Ireland.

The Dowager-Countess continued to reside at Moira House until her death in 1808, and in 1826 the fine old mansion was given over to the governors of the Mendicity Institution. This body proceeded to make havoc of its past glories; the upper storey of the edifice was taken off, the magnificent internal decorations removed, the handsome gardens covered with offices, and every measure adopted to render it a fitting receptacle for the most wretched paupers, thus verifying Wesley’s curious presage that the splendour of Moira House was destined to “pass away as a dream.” **

Leinster House**

was commenced in 1743 by Robert, last Earl of Kildare, for a family residence. The Earl exemplified the proverb concerning the fate of those who build houses; for, dying in 1744, he was succeeded by his son James, who was created in 1761** Duke of Leinster. His Grace married Emilia, sister to the Duke of Richmond. She was called “the beautiful Duchess,” [see poem below] **and presented her husband the abnormal number of 17 children, one of whom was the unfortunate Lord Edward FitzGerald.

Such modesty of youth and air*,

*Yet modest as the village fair;

Attracting all, indulging none

Her beauty, like the glorious sun,

Throned eminently bright above,

Impartial warms the world to love.

Leinster House, which was built on the Molesworth Fields, was designed by the German architect Cassels. It is described by Malton as the most stately private mansion in the City. It now forms the centre portion of the very handsome buildings erected by its present owners, the members of the Royal Dublin Society, who have fortunately done their work without injuring the historic old house, which must have been far handsomer when it stood alone in solitary grandeur.

At the time the Earl of Kildare built his house, in what was then called “the unfashionable quarter,” he was reproached by his friends for leaving Thomas Street in the Liberties for the weary waste of Molesworth Fields, and, as before mentioned, he replied, “They will follow me wherever I go,” a prophecy which proved correct.’

[The first Duke was a man conscious of his rank: a little too conscious, some people thought. lie was” remarkable for attractive politeness-what the French call nobility of manner, but which his own countrymen considered ultra-refinement. He was called “the finical Duke.” The Duchess survived him twenty years, dying in 1793.]

At that time Upper Mount Street was not thought of and from the windows of Leinster House an uninterrupted view stretched as far as Dunleary (old Kingstown), where the white sails of the different craft in the harbour could be seen glistening in the sunshine.

On the Merrion Square side the house stood in what was then a spacious walled-in garden, or rather lawn of greensward. On each side were rows of trees and flowering shrubs, with banks of mossy green, between which ran a shady and most delightful walk for a summer’s day, with the rooks cawing in the trees above, and the soft sward underneath the feet. This shady walk was only taken away when the National Gallery and National Museum were built.

The interior of Leinster House is well designed The picture gallery (added by Wyatt, who succeeded Cassels) and drawing-room are fine apartments, with elegant ornamentation. Here are some grand chimney-pieces. A circular secret staircase leading to the roof is so curiously contrived as to baffle most diligent search. With what object this was constructed it is hard now to say.

The Duke, dying in 1773, was succeeded by Duke William Robert, commonly called “loved Kildare. ” He was at one time the popular idol, being the friend of Lord Charlemont, joining him in his schemes for the good of the country - illusory schemes, that were frustrated by the violence of party spirit.

In his younger days the Duke of Leinster was fond of the arts; he and his brother Lord Henry FitzGerald were good amateur actors. Private theatricals were a constant amusement at Carton (the country seat of the Leinster family), being introduced by the first Duke and Duchess. Masquerades were a favourite pastime in Dublin from 1773, and much patronized by Duke William. We find his name constantly recurring at the ridottos given in Fishamble Street.

On March 16, 1779, he appeared as a universal fruit vendor, changing his oranges into shamrocks as day broke (a happy stroke). It became the fashion on masquerade nights for the different masques to parade through the State apartments in the houses of the nobility and leaders of society, which were thrown open for their reception. They were always sumptuously regaled at Leinster House, the Duke receiving his guests at the head of the grand staircase, from which they passed through the reception-rooms.

Except on such gala nights, Leinster House was undoubtedly a gloomy residence, and for that reason it never appears to have taken any hold of the family affections. “Leinster House does not inspire the brightest ideas,” writes Lord Edward FitzGerald to his mother. “By-the-bye, what a melancholy house it is! A poor country housemaid I brought with me cried for two days, and said she thought she was in prison.”

The historic interest of Leinster House rests altogether with Lord Edward. Here met some of his fellow-conspirators, amongst them Reynolds, the Government spy and informer. Here at one time he lay concealed, and on another occasion the house was searched from garret to kitchen by Major Sirr’s police.

Whatever his other faults may have been, Lord Edward possessed the rare gift of winning hearts. His wife, his family, his friends, were all devoted to him, and never seem for one moment to have blamed him for the somewhat selfish manner in which he sacrificed their interests to his political views. The romance which attended both his marriage and his death has cast a halo over his memory which obscures a proper judgment of his manifest imprudence, which had not the excuse of extreme youth, as in Emmet’s case. Lord Edward was 35 at the time of his death, and was the father of three children.

After the Act of Union was passed, Leinster House shared the fate of all the houses in Dublin belonging to the nobility. Duke William dying in 1804, his son and successor, Frederick Augustus, third Duke, sold the ducal mansion to the Royal Dublin Society, in whose keeping it now remains. For many years the Society held their yearly shows in Kildare Place, bands playing, and ladies promenading on the Duke’s Lawn. Since the inauguration of the Society’s new buildings at Ball’s Bri4gc, the Horse Show, etc., has been transferred thither-a manifest improvement.

The National Gallery and National Museum occupy the space where once stood the home of the cawing rooks, and in the courtyard of Kildare Street there is the finely designed National Library; it stands on the site of Lord Lanesborough’s former house in Kildare Place.

Mornington House, No. 24, Upper Merrion Street.

Nearly opposite to Leinster House, Merrion Street, we come upon a fine house, to which attaches the supposition, amounting almost to certainty that the great Duke of Wellington was born there. It seems strange that there should exist any doubt, and still stranger that the doubt comes from the person who of all others one would think should know best. The late Duke of Wellington, however, informed Sir Bernard Burke that, although he never remembered hearing his father say where he was born, he had heard that the great Duke’s mother stated that the event took place at Dangan Castle. Moreover, all old memoirs and peerages name Dangan as having been his birthplace.

Sir Bernard Burke before his death went into the subject very thoroughly, and convinced himself before he tried to convince the public that to No. 24, Merrion Street must be accorded the honour of being the hero’s birthplace.

Here lived in 1769 his father, the dilettante Lord Mornington, whose great passion was music. To him was due the formation of the Musical Academy, constituted wholly of amateurs moving “in the highest sphere of society,” professionals and *mercenary *teachers being excluded. The noble founder united in himself the offices of president of the society and leader of the orchestra; the lady patronesses were the Countess of Tyrone, the Countess of Mornington, the Countess of Charleville, and Lady Freke ; the lady vocal performers, the Right Hon. Lady Caroline Russell, Mrs. Monk, Miss Stewart, Miss O’Hara, and Mrs. Plunket the gentlemen vocal performers) Hugh Montgomery Lyons and Thomas Cobb. Lord Mornington was likewise a proficient violinist and a very good amateur composer, while his glee “Here in cool grot” is still occasionally sung. Playing the organ was another of his accomplishments. Mrs. Pendarves tells us there was one set up in the large hall at Dangan, Mr. Wellesley’s (or Wesley’s, as it was called) seat in Meath.

She gives a pleasant account of the place and the company there assembled. “We live magnificently,” she writes, and at the same time without ceremony. There is a charming large hall with an organ and harpsichord, where all the company meet when they have a mind to be together, and where music, dancing, shuttlecock, draughts, and prayers take their turn.”

It was in this atmosphere that the first Lord acquired his musical taste, and it was to his excellence in this accomplishment that he owed his advancement to a peerage. His compositions mightily pleased the musical ear of George III., who was glad to bestow a mark of his favour upon the noble composer. It may be said, however, that this royal favour was less of a blessing than a curse, Mr. Wesley’s fortune not being adequate to keep up the position of an Earl.

Previous to this dignity being conferred upon him, he had resided in Grafton Street, where he had bought a plot of ground, upon which he had intended to build a fine house at the cost of £3,000. This idea he now abandoned, and purchased from Lord Antrim No. 24, Upper Merrion Street, where he resided until his death in 1784.

Here the future hero of Waterloo grew up, passing at Eton for rather a slow boy, too dull for learning and too quiet and moping for football. In 1790, Six years after his father’s death, we find him a member of the House of Commons and aide-de-camp to Lord Camden, the then Lord-Lieutenant; he was leading a very gay life, and spending, we may assume, more money than he could perhaps afford, - for Sir John Gilbert tells us that when young Wellesley left Dublin to enter upon his military career, he left the payment of his many debts to Thomas Dillon, a wealthy woollen draper in Parliament Street.

Meantime Mornington House had passed out of the hands of the family, and had been bought by Robert Lawless, first Lord Cloncurry, whose eldest son and heir, the Hon. Valentine Lawless, shared the dangerous opinions of his friend Lord Edward FitzGerald. He escaped, however, his sad fate, but was imprisoned in the Tower. [His imprisonment cost him the loss of £70,000, which his father left away from him, fearing it would be confiscated.] On his return to Ireland in 1811, he settled down quietly at Lyons, the family seat in Kildare, and occupied himself in writing his personal reminiscences, which are pleasant enough reading, although they are by no means accurate, as when he states “at the time of Lord Edward’s arrest his wife (the well-known Pamela) had taken refuge with *my sisters, *and was at the time *in my father’s house *in. Merrion Street, though without his knowledge;”

On the other hand, there is Lady Louisa Conolly’s letter, as quoted by Sir John Gilbert, stating that Pamela was at Moira House on the evening of her husband’s arrest, and there she remained until obliged by order of the Privy Council to retire to England.

In 1801 Mornington House was let to Lord Castlereagh, and in it, says Lord Cloncurry, “were concocted the plots which ended in overturning the liberties and arresting the prosperity of Ireland, and here also were celebrated with corrupt profusion the nightly orgies of the plotters.”

After the Union, Mornington House, which had been bought in 1791 by Lord Cloncurry for £8,000, remained for many years untenanted. Later on it passed into the hands of the Ecclesiastical Commission, and is now the office of the Irish Land Commission.

There is no such absolute monarch as fashion; and no sooner had the Earl of Kildare elected to make the south side of the City his place of residence, than, as he had predicted, his example was quickly followed. Molesworth Fields, the property of Lord Molesworth, was soon laid out in plots for building. Kildare Street, called in honour of the Earl, might have been christened the Lords’ Walk, so peopled was it by nobility. The Earls of Arran, Portarlington, Desart, and Onslow; Viscounts Doneraile, Harberton, Kingsland, and Gort; Lords Inchiquin, Rossmore, Louth, Muskerry, and Trimlestown; Messrs. Husseyburgh and Hely Hutchinson, made a brilliant circle, of which James, first Duke of Leinster, and his beautiful Duchess, daughter of the Duke of Richmond, were the centre.

At the bottom of Kildare Street, or rather at the corner of Nassau Street, stands the Kildare Street Club, founded in 1782 in consequence of Daly’s having dared to blackball Mr. Barton Conynham. It was built upon the site of two houses belonging to the Cavendishes, one of which was left by Sir Henry Cavendish for the purpose; the other was purchased from his heir. The original club was burned down in 1859, and rebuilt in 1861. Kildare Street is a very conservative and influential club, where Mr. Gladstone is heartily denounced, and at the present moment Mr. Balfour does not come off too well.

Mr. Moore calls the Kildare Street Club the oyster bed, where all the sons of the landed gentry fall as a matter of course. This description more fitly applies to the Sackville Street Club. Sackville Street is, however, not so potential as it was. Mr. Moore likewise talks of the larva-like stupidity of the members. This is a decided libel: whatever their other shortcomings may be, Irishmen are rarely stupid, and a great deal of wit distinguishes the members of Kildare and Sackville Street Clubs.

You will see few stupid faces if you glance at the famous bow-window, the terror of the *débutante *(the verdict of Kildare Street being all-important), where towards five o’clock the members congregate, and discuss last night’s ball and the fair dancers.

It is said that from this window (but of course it is a calumny) all the gossip of Dublin emanates. But who would believe this of grave country gentlemen? It is whispered (but again I only repeat, and do not credit) that many of the nicknames which fit their wearers so wonderfully are manufactured in Kildare Street.

There is one house in Kildare Street, small and insignificant, about which hangs the halo of genius, for here lived some 40 years ago Sydney Lady Morgan and her amiable husband Sir Charles. Here for many years she held a salon, where all those who were best known for their gifts, social, literary, or artistic, were wont to gather round the clever and brilliant hostess.

In one of her letters Lady Morgan gives and amusing account of how in the early days of her marriage she would throw up the window of No. 35, and call to those passing to come in and make merry, and soon she would have a goodly gathering. This was something like Miss Berry putting the lamp in her window to show she would receive, and her room being crowded with guests. Society has grown so completely out of shape nowadays that such impromptus are no longer possible, supposing that people are simple enough to take pleasure in the flow of wit without the flow of champagne.

Another house of interest is that of Sir Dixon Burrowes, of Giltown, Kildare, who in 1774 occupied a house in Kildare Street. Moore, then a boy of ten years old, took part in some theatricals given there, and at which Mrs. Le Fanu (or Le Fanue, as it was then written) was the principal performer. This lady was the daughter of Mrs. Sheridan, the mother of the well-known Richard Brinsley Sheridan.

Returning up Kildare Street, we come to Molesworth Street, which lies exactly opposite Leinster House. There is much of the quietude of old age about Molesworth Street. The Molesworth estate belonged to Robert, first Viscount Molesworth, whose home had been at Molesworth Court, Fishamble Street. It was his daughter who married the Earl of Belvedere, and was by her husband’s orders kept in solitary confinement for 18 years.

In Molesworth Street lived the Earl of Rosse, who wanted to marry the Duchess of Albemarle. She, being of weak intellect, determined to marry no one but a sovereign prince. Lord Montagu, who was determined to secure her fortune, pretended that he was the Emperor of China and actually married her under that title. To the day of her death the Duchess believed she was Empress, and was always served as a sovereign on bended knee.

She had an escape of Lord Rosse, who bore the most dissipated reputation. He was likewise much given to practical joking. When he was dying, he could not refrain from his amusement, and at his last moment played a trick upon the Earl of Kildare, a man of great piety.

He had received an earnest appeal from Dean Madden, Vicar of St. Anne’s Church in Dawson Street, imploring him before it was too late to repent of his many sins, and urging upon him the sinfulness of his past life.

Lord Rosse, although he had hardly a breath to draw, managed to get the letter into a fresh cover, and had it addressed and sent by his footman to the Earl of Kildare’s house in Thomas Street. The surprise of the virtuous but rather finical Earl was only equalled by his indignation, and his wife, who was also indignant, persuaded him to complain to the Archbishop, Dr. Hoadley, of the Dean’s impertinence.

The Bishop sent for the Dean, who, when he saw the letter, at once acknowledged it, and persisted in declaring he had done his duty in exhorting a sinner to repentance. The Bishop, who knew, if the Dean continued to make these unjust accusations against such a powerful nobleman as Lord Kildare, he would be a ruined man, advised the recalcitrant clergyman to applogize before it was too late. “Apologize!” repeated the Dean “how can I? The man is dead.” “What, Lord Kildare dead! Impossible!” “No, but Lord Rosse —” The imbroglio was soon set right; the only person who suffered was the footman.

Kerry House in Molesworth Street is associated with a very interesting character-John Foster, last Speaker of the Irish House of Commons. He was the son of Anthony Foster, of Dunleer, Louth, who in 1768 purchased Kerry House from the first Earl of Kerry, who married Anne, only daughter of Sir William Petty. John Foster was a man much respected by all parties; he was firm and calm, by no means eloquent, but possessed an extraordinary power of reasoning which never failed of effect.

He voted against the Union; and when it passed by a majority of three, he threw down his insignia of office and left the House. In 1821 he was created Baron Oriel, of Collon, county Louth. His only son, who was created Baron Ferrard, married Viscountess Massereene in her own right, and assumed the name of Skeffington: he was the grandfather of the present peer

There is a picture of Lord Oriel in the Royal Dublin Society House. He wears his robes as Speaker; it is from a painting by C. G. Stuart. Lord Oriel’s house has now been incorporated with two other houses, which form Nos. 33, 34, 35, part of Buswell’s family hotel. The Speaker’s room is shown to visitors.

Another inhabitant of Molesworth Street was Doctor Van Lewin, father of Letitia Pilkington, celebrated for her friendship with Swift. **

The Royal Irish Academy of Music, Westland Row**

This beautiful old house was built in 1771 by Nicholas Tench, Esq., who in that year purchased a lot or piece of ground in Westland back gardens1 then in the possession of William Clements, Vice-Provost of Trinity College. The name of the architect who built the house is not known. From the date it would probably be Ensor, who was busy in Merrion Square hard by.

There is a good entrance hall and staircase, and in the reception-rooms there are fine ceilings, with stucco ornamentations by the Italian artists then in Dublin. The small medallions let into the. ceiling are said to be by Boucher, but the date do not correspond; they are probably the work of Valdré or Marinari, most likely the latter.

The chimney-piece, which is here reproduced, is a beautiful design, somewhat ecclesiastical in its form; it is ornamented by small medallions let into the over-mantle and sides; these medallions are the work of Angelica Kauffmann, who was in Dublin in 1771, the year in which Mr. Tench purchased the ground; she carried away with her numerous orders, as well as portraits half begun-these were finished in her London studio.

It might be that she had some hand in the ceiling decoration ; they are not, however, in her style, whereas no one conversant with her work can be in doubt as to the chimney-piece.

The story of an old house always bears with it the same feature - constant change of owner. No. 36, Westland Row passed from Nicholas Tench to Cadwaller Wray, from him to Thomas Disney, then to the family of Aylmer, from whom it came into the possession of its present owners, the trustees of the Royal Irish Academy of Music. This was in 1871, 100 years to the year since Nicholas Tench had taken over the lot to build himself a house.

Long before the London Academy of Music had come into existence there existed in Dublin 150 years ago a society called the Irish Academy of Music, which had been called into existence by the dilettante nobleman Lord Mornington. This society was exclusively amateur, and ceased, as many other institutions did, with the Act of Union; it revived however, in another form, the one now existent, which had its first home in Stephen’s Green, on the west side, No. 18, and which was instituted chiefly by amateurs, for the excellent purpose of instructing, at a comparatively small cost, those who wished to make music their profession.

Some 30 years ago amateur performances were annually given to aid the funds of the Academy. They resembled in character the performances given in Rome by the Societa Filarmonicae, the feature of which was the rows of fairest Roman ladies of the first quality and beauty, charmingly dressed, giving some work of Rossini’s or Donizetti’s. In Dublin precisely the same sort of entertainment took place annually. The violet eyes and oval faces equalled the beauty displayed at the Filarmonicae, and the music, we are assured, was of the best. In this way was recited *Ernani, Sonnambula, Trovatore, Norma, *etc. These pleasant concerts have long since been given up, probably because the standard of musical excellence is higher than in the Sixties.

Since its removal to Westland Row, the Royal Irish Academy of Music has done in the 26 years of its life exceptionally good work, turning out musicians who have made a home for themselves in all parts of the world.

The Irish are a musical race, and strangers visiting Dublin would do well to visit the Academy of Music, when they cannot fail to be struck with the great delicacy and purity of tone in the voices and the sympathetic touch of instrumentalists.

The Academy is under the most competent direction, and the interest taken in it by Sir Francis Brady, Mr. Macdonell, and others leaves nothing undone for the advancement of the pupils, many of whom have attained to a high standard of proficiency.

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