Ballyfin Demesne
I have a guilty secret about Ireland. I’m still in love with the Celtic Twilight of grand houses, poets and rebels, dreaming Earls and old-fashioned manners. And chintz. I really, really love chintz.
So while I’ve flirted with hip Dublin, with pounding music in mirrored cocktail bars and cool hotels and restaurants owned by pop stars and thrusting new money, I’m drawn to serene Georgian architecture in the capital and beyond. The defiantly highbrow idea of a long weekend of art and culture – the “Inspiring Irish Art Weekend” – was irresistible, especially when I’d be staying at two of Ireland’s finest hotels, both with their own private art collections: the Merrion in Dublin and a ravishingly beautiful country estate just an hour away, Ballyfin in country Laois.
Here’s how it works. We left London on Friday morning and after checking in at the Merrion, plunged straight into a private tour and appraisal of the hotel’s extensive collection of chiefly 19th and 20th century Irish art. This is serious stuff, led by a proper expert from the National Gallery of Ireland, but most surprising was how easily these contemporary works fit into the classical architecture of the hotel where they enhance the bedrooms and public spaces.
The Merrion is 15 years old this year but feels as though it has been here forever. It was created from four 18thcentury Grade I Listed townhouses where Ascendancy toffs lorded it over Georgian Dublin and it keeps the sense of a grand private house with furnishings, antiques, proportions and detailing of a privileged age. “Homes are living things” say the Merrion’s owners, Lochlann and Brenda Quinn, “and we’ve tried to reflect the tastes of typical owners over three centuries, with a mixture of Irish and English furniture, French chandeliers, Italian marble tables and Flemish tapestries.”
A brightly coloured self-portrait by Saurin Elizabeth Leech is translated into lime sponge, orange chiboust and lemon curd jelly
Their collection of paintings and sculpture amassed over years and constantly evolving, is predominantly Irish with 40 different artists from the 18th century to the present day. This is high quality art of intelligence, beauty and political awareness, not simply interior decoration, and includes a wide range of styles from classical and impressionist to abstracts and magic realism.
Romantic Victorian landscapes such as Wreck Ashore by James Francis Danby, or A View of the Dargle by James Arthur O’Connor are complemented by the mystical expressionism of Swans at Eirlough by Patrick Collins in the late 20th century and on the elegant stairwell of the Merrion’s front hall are elegiac murals of classical ruins by one of Ireland’s finest young artists, Michael Mooney. Social portraits of the poor such as The Travellers by Norah McGuinness in 1964 echo The Net Menders almost a century earlier by Mary Webb Robinson but high society glows from the opulent paintings of Sir John Lavery.
Mainie Jellett’s Madonna and Child as patisserie
The best-known names in Irish art are on the walls of the Merrion: Louis le Brocquy with his tortured figures trapped in stark interiors; Jack Yeats, younger brother of the poet W.B.Yeats and regarded by all as Ireland’s greatest painter with his abstract colour and loose, expressive brushwork; and Paul Henry whose paintings of the west of Ireland are suffused with unmistakably proud nationalism.
Cubism and surrealism are well represented with work by Mainie Jellett, William Scott, Mary Swanzy and the Korean-born but Irish-resident Chung Eun-Mo, while photo-realism is found in Roses and Temple by Patrick Hennessy, The Outsider by Patrick Gale, and the extraordinary The Old Fox by John Doherty where it’s hard to believe that this street scene of an old pub in county Donegal is a painting not a photograph.
After this highbrow mental workout, what could be nicer than a comfy chair in the drawing room with a roaring log fire and a witty “art tea” with pastries in the style of paintings you’ve just been admiring. A brightly coloured self-portrait by Saurin Elizabeth Leech is translated into lime sponge, orange chiboust and lemon curd jelly, while John Boyd’s Shut Eye with Acolyte is translated into a teardrop of pistachio and white chocolate mousse. It’s very clever and delicious but don’t get too carried away. Dinner is at Restaurant Patrick Guillbaud, the only holder of two Michelin stars in Ireland and the Merrion’s trump card. There are many fine paintings on the walls and the carpet is inspired by a Mary Swanzy abstract but we were too distracted by the menu and the wine list to pay too much attention. Don’t even attempt to stick to your diet – let the good times roll.
I am completely blown away. This is real glamour, not the clever facsimile of modern luxury hotels and movies
Inevitably, I didn’t feel like breakfast, despite the appeal of a full Irish. The sun was shining, I walked into the enclosed courtyard garden to admire the fine bronze of a running horse made in 1999 by Conor Fallon and Rowan Gillespie’s homage to James Joyce from 2000 which places a statue of the great man among selections of his greatest work, Ulysses.
There was just time for a swift visit to the National Gallery of Ireland for a refresher to yesterday’s course work before heading out of town to Ballyfin in county Laois (pronounced “Leesh”).
It’s a dull drive through undistinguished suburbs and featureless farmland and I looked longingly at signs for the National Stud where the stallion Invincible Spirit stands as champion sire. But we speed past and gradually the landscape changes, rolling towards the broad slopes of the Slieve Bloom mountains and we reach the ancient stone walls bordering the Ballyfin estate.
The road winds through parkland until the house appears, settled comfortably into the landscape with ancient trees and a sheltered lake. It looks grand but austere but, once inside, wow! The interiors are spectacular. I am completely blown away. This is real glamour, not the clever facsimile of modern luxury hotels and movies. Ballyfin is not just a hotel: this is an artwork in its own right. But where to start? How does even the most sophisticated visitor make sense of all this grandeur?
Ballyfin Demesne
Fortunately there’s someone to put it all into context. William Laffan, a cheerful Irish historian and art connoisseur, is on hand throughout our stay with countless insights, anecdotes and a wicked sense of humour. He has an enviable indepth knowledge of the hundreds of paintings and artefacts which decorate the rooms and over the next 24 hours, he brings alive the 200-year history of the house and the ambitious nine year restoration project that in 2011 culminated in this astonishing 15-bedroom hotel.
It is hard believe that just a few years ago, this whole building was virtually ruined. The great families had gone and for most of the 20th century, a catholic boys’ school occupied the site where the young Duke of Wellington once played with his brothers and the socially ambitious Coote family spent lavishly to enhance their status as the premier baronetcy of Ireland. In 2001, when the Patrician Brothers closed the school, Ballyfin was one of the most endangered houses in Ireland. The ceilings were sagging or collapsed and the stonework was discoloured and broken. The 600-acre parkland, known by its old name, the Demesne, was reverting to wilderness. It looked like the end of the road.
But on our first afternoon, William Laffan shows us through a series of dazzling rooms of such eye-popping Regency bling that makes Downton Abbey look like a YMCA. And yet everything is in such astonishing good taste with the highest levels of craftsmanship. There isn’t the faintest trace of vulgarity. The mood is a welcoming country house where you can feel totally at home. It’s a masterpiece of sympathetic restoration.
I have simply never slept in such an enchanting and, dare one say it, sexy bedroom
The entrance hall has a Roman mosaic floor, antique cases and ancestral portraits along with the antlers of a long-extinct Irish elk, but there are wellies and walking boots by the fireplace. The Whispering Room, once a breakfast room with richly decorated domed ceiling and marble fireplace, is now a laid-back hotel reception. We walked through to the Saloon at the heart of the house, a magnificent hall with complex parquet floors and a high ceiling supported by dark green scagliola columns imitating verde antico. The bold, richly carved ceiling is recognized as one of the greatest achievements of Irish decorative plasterwork. Doors open into the Rotunda, its circular walls lined with columns leading up to a coffered top-lit dome. The decoration is sumptuous and yet this space is little more than a link, an ante-room to the Library with its comfortable sofas, open fires, books and games. Hidden behind a bookcase is a mirrored doorway that opens, like magic, into the fragile iron cage of the conservatory which in turn looks out onto the Pleasure Grounds where an antique deity lounges in the waters of the cascade. More breathtaking rooms include the State Dining Room and the Gold Drawing Room decorated in Louis Quinze style with a dramatic chandelier and opulent carpets, silk-hung walls and gilded boiseries.
I am genuinely faint with happiness. It’s so beautiful and it’s all ours because with only 15 rooms, Ballyfin never seems cramped or crowded.
And there’s more to come. The bedrooms are stuff that dreams are made of and I have simply never slept in such an enchanting and, dare one say it, sexy bedroom as the Westmeath Room. The carved French bed with a domed canopy and creamy silk drapes occupies the centre of the room surrounded by fine antique furniture and paintings – real not reproduction. Above the marble fireplace is a flirtatious portrait of Lady Westmeath, the most notorious divorcee of her time after shameless goings on in a carriage. She looks, and sounds, terrific fun.
All the other rooms are full of beauty and character but I am reluctant to leave mine until William takes us on a tour of the demesne with its grotto, gardens, lake and high tower with panoramic views over the countryside. There’s no time for the pool, or gym or beauty treatments – but they seem indecently modern amongst all this historic glory.
The Old Fox by photorealist painter John Doherty
Over dinner we finally learn about the fairy godparents who brought Ballyfin back to life: an American couple with a fortune made in some arcane technology and a passion for art and restoration. They are clearly the Medicis of their age and I am in awe of their dedication – and bank balance. We raise a glass (or two) to Fred and Kay Krehbiel and their partner in the project, Jim Reynolds, one of Ireland’s leading landscape gardeners. It’s nine years well spent.
As with the Quinns who own the Merrion in Dublin, Ballyfin has all the charm and resonance of a private ownership, well away from the dead hand of corporatism. This clever partnership to provide arty weekends at the two hotels is a cracking idea. Clearly it’s not for everyone but as Ireland recovers from recession, and the Celtic Tiger stretches and flexes after five tricky years, I feel the country is coming back to life with renewed confidence. Thoughtful, elegant highbrow travel suits the new mood. It certainly suited me. C
“Inspiring Irish Art” weekends are scheduled for 4th-6th April, 2014 and 11th-13th April, 2014