From the simplest field wall to the largest palatial mansion, buildings of all forms and sizes have been shaped by, and are the results of, history. They are the ultimate expression of our human existence and have been for thousands of years. People made them and used them; events unfolded around them and in them. They are akin to living, breathing documents, as vivid as a hand-written letter or as engaging as an image of something no longer there – if not more so. If those walls could only talk!
Sadly, walls don’t talk, but their very existence has always served as one of the most tangible links to our past. Being able to walk down streets where important events took place, or enter rooms where famous conversations unfolded is the closest many of us will ever come to travelling back in time.
Change, however, is inevitable. Indeed, it is constant. Some of the most interesting buildings that survive today are those that bear witness to the history that has been acted out on them – attacked or defended, neglected or restored, altered or ruined. Many, however, have succumbed to the onslaught of history and survive today only in pictures and memories. These pictures help us to remember both the buildings themselves and the times they witnessed. Their stories also say something about the attitudes of the past (sometimes not all that distant) and may help us recognise the importance of those similar structures that still survive today – some perilously close to being lost themselves.
Probably the most iconic representation of Ireland is the thatched cottage, so suggestive of the simple lives once led by many, and also of the great hospitality for which we are famous.
These homes were the product of basic necessity and local resourcefulness – simple in form, they provided shelter from the elements and were constructed with whatever materials were close at hand. Sometimes this was the very ground on which they stood. Walls were made of compacted clay or “mud” then lime-washed to protect them from melting away in the rain. These generally supported a roof of thatch. Where clay was in short supply, stone was used. Where there was no thatch to be had, sods of grass made do. Vernacular houses of this variety once provided shelter to huge portions of the population, right across the country. Despite the simplicity of their materials, many had survived for centuries. It was only in the twentieth century, with the advent of modern building materials and a growing resentment of the perception of a simple (and by extension backward) life, that many were abandoned and replaced with bungalows of concrete. This iconic image of Ireland is today very much an endangered species.
Ireland’s history is also well-known for its turbulence. War and rebellion seem to be an almost constant feature, raging back and forward across the island, leaving destruction in their wake. The ruins of many a “Big House” litter the landscape today, lingering memorials to former times. During the War of Independence (1919-1921), these large, solid houses suggested the opportunity of makeshift barracks. In anticipation many were pre-emptively burnt out by the IRA, the first being Summerhill in Co Meath, on February4th, 1920. During the Civil War that followed, from 1922-1923, more than twice as many again were destroyed by flames, this time by anti-Treaty soldiers.
The second World War brought more ruin to the island, concentrated on the northern part of the country. Most terrible was the near-destruction of Belfast during the blitz of 1941. Huge swathes of Ireland’s largest industrial city were lost, and with them a massive part of that city’s Victorian character and charm. It still bears the scars today.
In more peaceful and prosperous times, large portions of the island’s built heritage were lost to the forces of passive resentment, apathy and greed.
One of the chief culprits was the Land Commission, formed in 1881 to implement the transfer of land from landlord to tenant under the Land Acts. It continued purchasing land up until 1983, and wasn’t finally disbanded until 1990. Much of this land was in the form of demesne estates, many with a large house at their centre. In many cases the house was sold off without any land to support it and declined or, as in the famous case of Shanbally Castle in Tipperary, was mindlessly demolished, despite offers from potential buyers to purchase it from the State and save it.
The late 1950s, and the decades following, saw the destruction of whole streets of our town and cities, notably in the capital. Buildings that were completely sound, like 2 and 3 Kildare Place, were demolished (in this case by the Government) as an inconvenience more than anything else. The ESB tore down a huge chunk of Lower Fitzwilliam Street to construct their new headquarters, ironically enough again at the centre of controversy as it plans a new building on the site. Following the collapse of two Georgian houses in 1963, the council began an over-zealous policy of demolition that saw hundreds more Georgian houses fall to the wrecking ball. Then there was Hume Street in 1969; and Wood Quay in 1981; not to mention the dozens of churches modernised in the wake of the Second Vatican Council. The list goes on. If history and hindsight show us anything, it is that many of these buildings could have been kept, maintained and reused, rather than being discarded or demolished. If we could turn back time perhaps many would, but we can’t. We can only learn the lessons.
Today places like Aldborough House in Dublin and Carrigglas Manor in Co Longford teeter on the edge of dereliction and ruin, mired in stasis as a result of the recent economic collapse. The photographs in this book are all that remain of many of our lost buildings. Hopefully the same will not be said in 100 years’ time of places like Aldborough and Carrigglas.
Lost Ireland: 1860 - 1960, A Panoramic Sweep of Ireland’s Forgotten Heritage by William Derham is published by Hyde Park Edition
