GLENMAROON HOUSE
THE HISTORY:
Built in 1904 for Arthur Guinness, the founder of Guinness, Glenmaroon House cost a whopping £5,000 in construction (around £500,000 today). For how stunning this building built in Tudor Revival appears, it is a surprisingly low sum, but it is also in remote Ireland where demand for houses is especially low.
The house was built to be a ‘party pad’, somewhat akin in nature to Marie Antoinette’s Petit Trianon, though perhaps not quite as glamorous… The pad featured a smoking lounge and indoor pool, both of which were ahead of their time, and was crucially built on the opposite side of the road to Knockmaroon Lodge up a very steep hill, meaning the main entrance is actually at what appears to be the back of the house. Spanning the road between the two houses is a footbridge connecting them to become one very large mansion.
Alas, all good things have to come to an end and Arthur was forced to send his family to Britain for safety during the Irish War of Independence, never to return. A few various members of the Guinness family lived there on-and-off over the years, but an aristocratic family living in a newly founded republic was doomed for troubles. Following Arthur’s death in 1949, the house was transferred to the Irish State as part of inheritance tax and it became the centre piece of a famous court case in 1951 regarding ownership rights.
By the 1950s it had been renovated into a care home by its new owners, the Daughters of Charity, and the chapel and dormitory were subsequently added by them as well.
THE EXPLORE:
Being back at Uni has meant I've had little chance to get out exploring as much, so it makes a great change to get behind the keyboard writing about my experiences breaking the law rather than essays on how to avoid breaking it...
Anybody who’s read the linguistic masterpiece that is the @UrbandonedTeam report on Ringsend Control Room will know in inextricable detail about how painful our 24 hours in Ireland was here, and so for the benefit everyone’s sanity I will avoid going too much further into detail.
With our 24 hour clock in Ireland ticking down with as much haste and expeditiousness as our body clocks were after an artic hours’ sleep on the roof of a defunct power station, we were beginning to lose hope. After genuinely falling asleep for about five minutes in the middle of the day on the grass verge next to a main road, Alistair decided to lead me on a wild goose chase to an old prison which did in fact offer tours but was also in fact closed for the evening. Coming to rest on a cobbled path adjacent to the old prison, we were competing in our heads between staying alive and finding another place to do. Alistair mentioned Glenmaroon as an almost impossible quest from bygone years and it seemed the perfect place that was so unlikely to succeed that we could probably go and lie down a few minutes after getting there, but also so stunning that it had to be worth a look. In typically flippant fashion, I concluded there was simply no choice; we had to go and after several Ubers failed to arrive, I was beginning to believe this was a sign of things to come and our steadfast resilience was wavering.
None the less, our trusty steed eventually arrived in the form of a Toyota Prius and we were soon galloping down the highway towards Heaven’s Gates. Disembarking our stallion, we began hiking up the mountain which stood before us and started seeking an entry point. No matter how many windows or doors appeared ajar, none seemed to shift and we were fleetly running out of hope. Indeed it was not until we pulled the most foolhardy move almost guaranteed to alert the landowner and result in our own personal injury/death that we got inside.
Entering the mansion, it was immediately apparent that it had all been worth it. As our fight home drew ever closer, we decided to be pretty swift with this one, but still managed to explore the whole site. As we finished Glenmaroon and crossed the bridge to Knockmaroon, we realised any worries about running out of time were immaterial; it didn’t even come close to its neighbour in terms of interior design and, while it was a lovely addition to the land, really didn’t add much time to the explore.
NP because this place has been radio-silent for the best part of 5 years since the excellent report from @Exploring with Andy on BCD.
A grand board room upstairs.
Even the tiling in the bathrooms was incredibly opulent.
The main stairwell.
The classic wooden panelling appeared typical of an old English private/grammar school.
The decay in the upper floors was far more significant than the ground floor.
The main entrance hall.
This little corridor, combined with opaque glass lining it round the corner, really reminded me of the old Standish Hospital.
The tunnel running over the road linking Glenmaroon with Knockmaroon.
Main staircase of Knockmaroon.
The conjoined chapel that was built as an extension much later than the original house.
Thanks for reading!
THE HISTORY:
Built in 1904 for Arthur Guinness, the founder of Guinness, Glenmaroon House cost a whopping £5,000 in construction (around £500,000 today). For how stunning this building built in Tudor Revival appears, it is a surprisingly low sum, but it is also in remote Ireland where demand for houses is especially low.
The house was built to be a ‘party pad’, somewhat akin in nature to Marie Antoinette’s Petit Trianon, though perhaps not quite as glamorous… The pad featured a smoking lounge and indoor pool, both of which were ahead of their time, and was crucially built on the opposite side of the road to Knockmaroon Lodge up a very steep hill, meaning the main entrance is actually at what appears to be the back of the house. Spanning the road between the two houses is a footbridge connecting them to become one very large mansion.
Alas, all good things have to come to an end and Arthur was forced to send his family to Britain for safety during the Irish War of Independence, never to return. A few various members of the Guinness family lived there on-and-off over the years, but an aristocratic family living in a newly founded republic was doomed for troubles. Following Arthur’s death in 1949, the house was transferred to the Irish State as part of inheritance tax and it became the centre piece of a famous court case in 1951 regarding ownership rights.
By the 1950s it had been renovated into a care home by its new owners, the Daughters of Charity, and the chapel and dormitory were subsequently added by them as well.
THE EXPLORE:
Being back at Uni has meant I've had little chance to get out exploring as much, so it makes a great change to get behind the keyboard writing about my experiences breaking the law rather than essays on how to avoid breaking it...
Anybody who’s read the linguistic masterpiece that is the @UrbandonedTeam report on Ringsend Control Room will know in inextricable detail about how painful our 24 hours in Ireland was here, and so for the benefit everyone’s sanity I will avoid going too much further into detail.
With our 24 hour clock in Ireland ticking down with as much haste and expeditiousness as our body clocks were after an artic hours’ sleep on the roof of a defunct power station, we were beginning to lose hope. After genuinely falling asleep for about five minutes in the middle of the day on the grass verge next to a main road, Alistair decided to lead me on a wild goose chase to an old prison which did in fact offer tours but was also in fact closed for the evening. Coming to rest on a cobbled path adjacent to the old prison, we were competing in our heads between staying alive and finding another place to do. Alistair mentioned Glenmaroon as an almost impossible quest from bygone years and it seemed the perfect place that was so unlikely to succeed that we could probably go and lie down a few minutes after getting there, but also so stunning that it had to be worth a look. In typically flippant fashion, I concluded there was simply no choice; we had to go and after several Ubers failed to arrive, I was beginning to believe this was a sign of things to come and our steadfast resilience was wavering.
None the less, our trusty steed eventually arrived in the form of a Toyota Prius and we were soon galloping down the highway towards Heaven’s Gates. Disembarking our stallion, we began hiking up the mountain which stood before us and started seeking an entry point. No matter how many windows or doors appeared ajar, none seemed to shift and we were fleetly running out of hope. Indeed it was not until we pulled the most foolhardy move almost guaranteed to alert the landowner and result in our own personal injury/death that we got inside.
Entering the mansion, it was immediately apparent that it had all been worth it. As our fight home drew ever closer, we decided to be pretty swift with this one, but still managed to explore the whole site. As we finished Glenmaroon and crossed the bridge to Knockmaroon, we realised any worries about running out of time were immaterial; it didn’t even come close to its neighbour in terms of interior design and, while it was a lovely addition to the land, really didn’t add much time to the explore.
NP because this place has been radio-silent for the best part of 5 years since the excellent report from @Exploring with Andy on BCD.
A grand board room upstairs.
Even the tiling in the bathrooms was incredibly opulent.
The main stairwell.
The classic wooden panelling appeared typical of an old English private/grammar school.
The decay in the upper floors was far more significant than the ground floor.
The main entrance hall.
This little corridor, combined with opaque glass lining it round the corner, really reminded me of the old Standish Hospital.
The tunnel running over the road linking Glenmaroon with Knockmaroon.
Main staircase of Knockmaroon.
The conjoined chapel that was built as an extension much later than the original house.
Thanks for reading!
