Praxiteles

A further informaton request by Cork County Councilin relation to works incuuding conservationa nd alterations and some demolition at St Finnbarr’s Church, Bantry, Co. Cork was responded to on 12 November 2008 by the developer, the Parish Priest of Bantry.

It is not quite clear what is intended here but an eye should be kept on the development, especially in view of the zealous interest of the present Chairman of Cork County Council, Cllr. Harrington from Bantry, in heritage and liturgical requirements at the recent Ballincollig conference.

The Planning Register No. is Cork County Council 08/778

A study of the iconographic detail of the versions of the Marriage of Our Lady of Orcagna, Perugino, Raphael and Cobh reveal some interesting influences in the Cobh composition:

1. The Vesture of the High Priest:

– Orcagna (1359)

Mitre
Cope
Morse
Dalmatic
Alb
[feet not visible]

– Perugino (c. 1489)

Mitre
Rationale
Subcintorium
Dalmatic
“Alb” coloured
[feet visible]

– Raphael (1504)

Mitre
Rationale
Cope
Subcntorium
Dalmatic
“Alb” coloured
[feet visible]

– Cobh

Mitre
Rationale
Dalmatic
Alb
[feet not visible]

2. Plane

– Orcagna

All three figures on the same plane

– Perugino

All three figures on the same plane

– Raphael

All three figures on the same plane

– Cobh

The High Priest is raised on three steps, the other two figure on a lower plane

3. Architectural Focal Point

– Orcagna

The panels does not have a fopcal point in the background.

– Perugino

An architectural focal point in the background, generally taken to be the emple of Solomon in a classical revival form.

– Raphael

An architectural focal point in the background generally taken to tbe the Temple fo Solomon in a classical revival form.

– Cobh

An architectural focal point in the background, which is in the gothic idiom and which represents a throne fronted by three steps and flanked by an aracde. The composition is not dissimilar to the actual throne in the sancturay of Cobh cathedral.

4. Disposition of three figures

– Orcagna

High priest in centre; Our Lady on the Right, St. Joseph on the left.

– Perugino

High Priest in the centre, Our Lady on the left, St. Joseph on the Right.

– Raphael

High Priest in the centre, Our Lady on the left, St. Joseph on the right.

– Cobh

High Priest in the centre, Our Lady on the left, St. Joseph on the right.

5. Feet of the three figures

– Orcagna

feet not visible

– Perugino

feet visible

– Raphael

feet visible

– Cobh

feet not visible

6. Subsidiary figures

– Orcagna

2 figures left (men)
2 figures centre (man)
0 figures right

– Perugino

6 figures left (men)
5 figures right (women)
0 figures centre

– Raphael

5 figures left (women)
5 figures right (men)
0 figures centre

– Cobh

5 lfigures left (women)
4 figures right (men)
0 figures centre.

7. Position of hands

– Orcagna

High Priest holds Our Lady’s hand; St Joseph stretches his hand towards her hand.

– Perugino

The High Priest holds Our Lady’s hand and holds St. Joseph’s hand.

– Raphael

The High Priest holds Our Lady’s hand and holds St Joseph’s hand.

– Cobh

Our Lady holds St. Joseph’s hand and the High Priest gestures to them with his left hand and blesses with his right hand..

Iconology of Raphael’s Marriage of the Virgin: A Study
Art History 400
December 8, 2004
In 1939, Erwin Panofsky proposed the theory of iconology. This theory is concerned with finding the deeper cultural meaning in works of art, as opposed to strictly being concerned with style, or identifying the subject matter only (as in iconography). In other words, looking at the work of art as an expression of the culture in which it was created. Panofsky uses a three-step formula in examining a work of art. He begins by examining, what he calls, the “primary or natural subject matter”. In this category, (also called the “pre-iconographical description”), Panofsky (1962) identifies the forms and objects, and examines any qualities of expression that the work may possess (5). The next step investigates the “secondary or conventional subject matter”. This step identifies the iconography of the work: the narratives and allegories that are depicted (Panofsky 1962:6). Finally, the examination of the “intrinsic meaning or content” is performed, to arrive at an iconological interpretation. Of the third and final step, Panofsky (1962) writes, “It is apprehended by ascertaining those underlying principles which reveal the basic attitude of a nation, a period, a class, a religious or philosophical persuasion – unconsciously qualified by one personality and condensed into one work” (7). This step studies the work of art in terms of deciphering various elements depicted in the work to discover general characteristics about the time and context in which it was created. Context that was brought to fruition in the specific way the artist chose to depict the work. . Panofsky (1962) also calls these elements “symptoms” (8). Though in the finished examination, Panofsky (1962) does state that the three steps to exploring the iconology of a work will merge into one overall process (17). However, for the purposes of clarity, in this essay, I will break down the method into the three individual steps of Panofsky’s theory of iconology to examine Raphael’s Marriage of the Virgin (Figure 1).
I will begin by examining the “pre-iconographical description” of Raphael’s work. In the foreground of the work, a group of figures are depicted. The group is comprised of six women on the left, six men on the right, of whom one is depicted with bare feet, and there is one man dividing them in the center. The central figure holds the right wrists of the two figures closest to him (a man and a woman), and looks down at their hands. The man and woman face each other, also looking down at their hands. As one’s eye travels backwards along the picture plane, there are other figures depicted, ranging from a single person standing on his own to a group made up of five people. The figures are standing on a symmetrical and regularly patterned ground space. In the background, filling up approximately one third of the canvas is a large cylindrical, colonnaded building, resting on an eight-stepped base. Finally, beyond the building is a green landscape, though as it is far away in the distance of the picture plane, it is therefore quite ambiguous.
The pre-iconographical description of the work also includes a description of the expressions on the faces of the figures, and the expressive gestures they make. Overall, the feeling the work conveys is one of calmness, bordering on disinterest. The faces of the main grouping of figures are quite expressionless, in that there is no strong emotion depicted on them. Several of the figures have slightly frowning mouths, but they do not appear to be unhappy. The feeling of disinterest lends itself from the fact that not all the figures are observing the action that is taking place between the three main figures. One is looking out at the viewer, and others are staring into the distance, in various directions. The only suggestion of emotion is coming from the gestures of the man in the foreground on the right hand side. He bends a stick across his knee, in a pose suggestive of anger, however, from what one can observe from the expression on his face, he does not appear to be angry. In the background, the figures depicted are interacting with the members of their respective groups, however the details are not clear enough to glean any information about their emotional state.
The second step of Panofsky’s theory of iconology explores the conventional subject matter of the work. Panofsky (1962) describes this stage as an “iconographical analysis in the narrower sense”; thus meaning that an identification of the figures in the work, and the event, story, or allegory that is represented is attempted (7). In Raphael’s work, the story that is depicted (as given by the title) is that of the marriage of the Virgin Mary to the carpenter Joseph. This event is one that is important to the Christian faith, though the story is not one that is written in the bible. Instead, the discription of the event is found in “The Golden Legend”. Written by Jacobus de Voragine, in the thirteenth century, the book is organised by the important Christian celebrations of the ecclesiastical year that correspond with particular saints and biblical figures. For each day, a discription of the life of a particular saint, or an event of a particular biblical figure is written (De Voragine, 1969:v-viii). Many of the events described in de Voragine’s book, about the biblical figures, are not actually written in the bible: for example, the story of Mary’s childhood and marriage. The marriage is described as follows:
When [Mary] had come to her fourteenth year, the high priest announced to all that the virgins who were reared in the Temple, and who had reached the age of their womanhood, should return to their own, and be given in lawful marriage. The rest obeyed the command, and Mary alone answered that this she could not do, both because her parents had dedicated her to the service of the Lord, and because she herself had vowed her virginity to God…. When the high priest went in to take counsel with God, a voice came forth from the oratory for all to hear, and it said that of all the marriageable men of the house of David who had not yet taken a wife, each should bring a branch and lay it upon the altar, that one of the branches would burst into flower and upon it the Holy Ghost would come to rest in the form of a dove, according to the prophecy of Isaias, and that he to whom this branch belonged would be the one to whom the virgin should be espoused. Joseph was among the men who came…. [and he] placed a branch upon the altar, and straightaway it burst into bloom, and a dove came from Heaven and perched at its summit; whereby it was manifest to all that the Virgin was to become the spouse of Joseph. (de Vorgine, 1969:523-4)
The figures in Raphael’s work are representations of the figures in the story. The central figure can be identified as the high priest who first decreed that the virgin’s should marry, then asked the Lord for an answer to the dilemma presented by Mary, and is witness to the flowers blooming from the end of Joseph’s branch. In the moment in time that the work is depicting, the high priest is presiding over the marriage of Mary and Joseph. The Virgin Mary and Joseph are the two figures in the centre of the composition that are turned towards each other. Mary is depicted wearing garments in colours that are traditionally associated with her: blue and red. Joseph holds his flowering branch in his left hand, and is about to place a ring on Mary’s finger with his other hand. Also depicted, to the right of Joseph, are the suitors whose branches did not flower. One bends it across his knee as if to break it in half (though as previously mentioned, he does not appear to show any emotion of anger on his face). The women to the left of Mary are identified as several of the other virgins in the Temple, though they do not have a direct iconographic attributes to identify who they are (Ferguson, 1959:43).

Finally, the most important phase of iconology examines the work of art as symptom of the larger socio-cultural context in which it was produced. In the case of Raphael’s Marriage of the Virgin, this work can be seen as a symptom of a trend of the time: that of copying the style and works of one’s master, and improving upon, or adding one’s individual style to that of the master (Stokstad, 2002:33-4). Raphael’s work is an excellent example of this phenomenon. The clear influence of Raphael’s teacher, Pietro Vannucci (better known as Perugino, after the city that he worked from), is embodied in Raphael’s work. This influence is especially apparent when looking at two of Perugino’s works: Christ Giving the Key’s to Saint Peter (figure 2) and Perugino’s own Marriage of the Virgin (figure 3). The first work, Christ Giving the Key’s to Saint Peter, was finished in 1481, twenty-three years before Raphael’s work. However, the influence of Perugino is clear. Both works use the same one-point perspective, with the orthogonals meeting at similar points in the door of the temple. Raphael has also incorporated the use of a grid in the piazza space to emphasise the orthogonals. Frederick Hartt and David G. Wilkins (2003) also note that the spatial layout of the figures is similar (511). Both works have figures painted in a frieze like composition along the foreground of the work. They also both have groups of figures placed further back in the picture plane. The use of colour is likewise similar between the two artists. Hartt and Wilkins (2003) write, “Even the clear, simple colours of the painting -the cloudless blue sky; the strong, deep blues, roses, and yellows of the drapery; the sun-warmed tan of the stone; and the blue-green hills – are derived from Perugino (511). The temple in Raphael’s work also reflects that of Perugino. Both are polyhedral in their basic shape, though the footprint of Perugino’s temple is a Greek cross plan, and Raphael has chosen not to depict the radiating transepts of the Greek cross plan in his work (De Vecchi, 2002:68-9). All the similarities found in these two works can also be found in the two Marriage of the Virgin works by Raphael and Perugino. However, in this case, the two works were produced concurrently, with the final date of Perugino’s work most likely later then Raphael’s (Pope-Hennessy, 1970:85). De Vecchi (2002) notes, “Strong compositional and iconographic similarities between the two paintings suggest that Raphael was enjoined to conform in style and form to the senior artists model” (67). In other words, that Raphael was likely commissioned to paint a work that was similar in style to Perugino.
The similarities and differences between the work by Raphael and the two works by Perugino also are symptoms of other shifts in artistic style between the Quattrocento and the new century, leading into the High Renaissance period. In his book, “Lives of the Artists”, the renaissance writer and first art historian, Vasari first noted the change in style between Raphael and Perugino. He writes that before Raphael’s Marriage of the Virgin, the styles of the two artists were so close, that it was impossible to differentiate between works of the master, and the copies by the student (Vasari, 1965:285). Of later in Raphael’s life, Vasari (1965) writes, “[Raphael] painted a small panel picture of the Marriage of Our Lady which shows very forcefully the way his own style was improving as he surpassed the works of Pietro (Perugino)” (286). Two examples of this change in style by Raphael that also reflect a larger change in style of the time, are those of the architecture, and the spatial organisation of the figures in the foreground of Perugino and Raphael’s works. Spatially, though both artists use a frieze like composition in the placement of their figures, Raphael’s arrangement is moving toward the styles and the use of perspective found in the High Renaissance. Bruno Santi (1991) notes that while Perugino’s composition is still characterised by the horizontal style of the Quattrocento, Raphael’s composition is circular in nature (8). Instead of his figures straight across the front of the picture plane, as if they were all standing on a long line, the feet of Raphael’s figures form a curved line mimicking the rounded shape formed by the temple, and even the upper frame of the work itself. De Vecchi discusses this circular relationship. He writes, “The temple becomes the real focal point, the dominant element that creates the circular space in which the figures themselves are carefully deployed in a gentle curve rather than simply aligned on an single flat plane” (De Vecchi, 2002:67).

The prominence of the temples in the two Marriage of the Virgin paintings is also a symptom of the times in which the works were created. As the temple takes up over a third of the space in Raphael’s work, and half of Perugino’s, this is indicative of the huge interest in architecture, especially Classical styles of architecture, during the Renaissance. Hartt and Wilkins (2003) write, “For Italians during the Renaissance, architecture was the leading art. New buildings were erected and old ones remodelled. New city centres were constructed, and ideal cities -destined to remain dreams -reached fulfilment only when described in treatises” (52). This discription is particularly apt to Raphael and Perugino’s works, as none of the ideal spaces depicted were ever actually built. Hartt and Wilkins (2003), note that this is likely because it would have been impractical (due to issues of space), and also impractical in bad weather; for example, there would be nothing to block strong winds in the open piazzas (410). The ideal spaces illustrated in the works are, however, symptoms of a larger interest in architecture at the time, specifically interest in the theories of Leon Battista Alberti’s “Ten Books on Architecture” (De Vecchi, 2002:68). Alberti (1955) writes of an ideal square, giving proportions for the size of the square, and also of the proportions and types of the structures (such as temple’s or triumphal arches) surrounding the square (173-4). The idea of the ideal square is more clearly seen in Perugino’s Christ Giving the Keys to St. Peter, however Alberti’s ideas can also been seen in Raphael’s work. Alberti (1955) gives very exacting information about the proportions and features of a temple, including information about the thickness and style of columns (ionic), and that the temple should be raised on a stepped pedestal (166-8). These features are all included in Raphael’s Marriage of the Virgin. De Vecchi (2002), also notes that Raphael’s temple follows other decrees of Alberti: that of the temple as a polygonal building, that it has a portico around it, and that it should be built wholly in white materials (70). In addition, as an acquaintance of Donato Bramante (who was also influenced by Alberti’s writings), Raphael was familiar with the construction of Bramante’s Tempietto (it appears in the background of another work by Raphael; Stokstad, 2002:701). Indeed, the temple in Raphael’s painting is similar in shape to that of the Tempietto, though there are some notable stylistic differences, such as the use of arches in Raphael’s portico, as opposed to Bramante’s Doric style columns and roof.
The classical styles that Raphael’s temple is done in is also characteristic of the times in which the work was created. The use of Roman arches and Greek columns on Raphael’s temple reflect the huge interest in the Greek and Roman styles during the Renaissance. Marilyn Stokstad (2002) characterises this period as one of “Self confident humanism, admiration of classical art, and a prevailing sense of stability and order” (687). The classicising styles of Raphael’s temple in the Marriage of the Virgin are simply a symptom of the broader trends in art and architecture of the time.
The last issue I wish to discuss is the subject matter of the work as a symptom of larger trends in Renaissance religious culture. At the time this work was created, the cult of the Virgin Mary was extremely popular. The Marion cult existed from the inception of the Christian faith, however, in the beginning, it was only from the sidelines of the religious practise. Elliot Miller and Kenneth R. Samples (1992) write, “When the council of Chalcedon in 451 officially recognised Mary as the mother of God, opportunity was allowed for the cult of the Virgin to infiltrate the mainstream of the church” (20). The popularity of Mary grew. For example, many churches, and even cities, such as the city of Siena in Italy, were dedicated to her (Hartt and Wilkins, 2003:126). Mary was seen as an intercessor for the Christian peoples. She is the bridge between the divine realm and the earthly realm; she was born a human but gave birth to the divine Son of God, and therefore Mary occupies both the realms (Warner, 2000:286). Due to this interest in the cult of the Virgin, pilgrimages to venerate her relics and to pray to her so that she might use her divine influence on behalf of the pilgrim, were also extremely popular. Raphael’s work is a symptom of the overall interest at the time of the Renaissance to undertake these pilgrimages. The work was commissioned for the Città di Castello, for a chapel in the Franciscan church that was dedicated to St. Joseph (De Vecchi, 2002:67). Hartt and Wilkins (2003) also note that it was likely commissioned specifically for an altar dedicated to the wedding ring of the Virgin (511). In this case, the subject matter (which depicts the Virgin’s wedding and indeed, her ring) reflects the trends of pilgrimage and veneration of relics in the Renaissance.
Raphael’s Marriage of the Virgin embodies some of the characteristics of the period in which it was created. These characteristics or “symptoms” are depicted through the eyes of one man: the artist. Panofsky’s three-step process of iconology, made up of a pre-iconographical analysis, an iconographical analysis, and a study of the intrinsic meaning of a work of art, provides a framework for the art historian to attempt to gain greater understanding of artistic periods in a logical and clear manner.

And a further prototype for Raphael’s version: Perugino’s Giving of the Keys to St. peter in the Sixtine Chapel painted about 1480.

A further influece on the Cobh Cathedral composition of the Marriage of Our Lady: Raphael’s painiting of the same subject of 1504 -currently in the Brera in Milan.

Some notes on the prototypes for the Marriage of Our Lady in the North Transept in Cobh Cathedral:

Andrea d’Orcagna (c.1329-c.1379), the Tabernacolo della Vergine in Or San Michele at Florence, begun c. 1359.

The drawing featured below are taken from A.N. Didron’s Annales Archéologique, vol. 26[1869], pp. 26-46.

From this morning’s New York Times.

Interestingly, Desmond Guinness recounts that he was up against a “philistine state” when he started off with the IGS in late 1950s. However, we should not be too optimistic that the philistine state has improved that much. Praxiteles believes that a very good dose of the philistinism still lurks abour the corridors of several planning authorities with extensive devotion to preservatuion by record. In particular, Cork County Council is a prime example and the Cobh Urban Dictrict Council, entenched soo deeply in its owbn particular brand of philistinism, is even still demolishing Georgian houses!!

November 27, 2008
A 50-Year Battle to Save Old Ireland
By CHRISTOPHER HANN
LEIXLIP, Ireland

WHEN Desmond and Mariga Guinness first lived here in the 1950s, they were unlikely champions of Irish architecture. Mrs. Guinness, the daughter of a German prince, had grown up in Europe and Japan, with no real link to Ireland. And although Mr. Guinness had Irish roots going back more than two centuries, he had been raised and educated in England (Oxford, class of ’54).

But he was a Guinness, descended from the 18th-century brewer who put the family name on the lips of stout drinkers the world over. His father, Bryan Guinness, Lord Moyne, kept a home in Ireland, and by the mid-’50s his mother, Diana, one of the famous Mitford sisters, was living in County Cork with her second husband. And Ireland’s long economic decline had made property far more affordable than in England, making it an attractive alternative for the young couple, who moved across the Irish Sea in 1956.

In the two years they spent searching for a home, driving through the countryside and making regular forays into Dublin from a house they rented in County Kildare, the Guinnesses became familiar with the country’s architecture — particularly its 18th-century buildings, from grand country homes to town houses filled with working-class flats — and found themselves increasingly bothered by its state of decay. And given that they did not have to work for a living (Mr. Guinness lived off family money), they were in a rare position, they realized, to do something about it.

In February 1958 they announced plans to re-establish the Irish Georgian Society, a group that had created a photographic record of Dublin’s best Georgian buildings earlier in the century; this new version, Mr. Guinness wrote in The Irish Times, would “fight for the protection of what is left of Georgian architecture in Ireland.” The following month they began restoring a building of their own, Leixlip Castle, a dilapidated 12th-century fortress on 182 acres west of Dublin, which would be their home and the group’s headquarters.

Now observing its 50th year with a series of celebrations and a lavishly illustrated book, the revived Irish Georgian Society has been credited with restoring dozens of architectural gems across Ireland, from a former union hall for Dublin tailors to the country’s oldest Palladian house. (The society’s early preservation efforts focused on Georgian Dublin, but in later years it expanded its mission to cover noteworthy buildings from any period.) Perhaps more impressively, the group has helped bring about a national change of heart regarding Irish architecture.

“We weren’t the only people concerned, but we had the time and the youth — 50 years ago — and not much to do,” said Mr. Guinness, now 77, as he reclined in the circular sitting room at Leixlip, beside one of the castle’s 20 fireplaces. He still lives here, now with his second wife, Penelope, whom he married three years after his divorce from Mariga in 1981. “You know,” he continued, “we were free. We didn’t have to go to the office every morning.”

Free or not, Mr. Guinness and his followers faced a tall order. Saving old buildings was hardly a priority in Ireland in 1958. The year before, more than 50,000 Irish citizens emigrated and 78,000 were unemployed. There were few, amid the grinding poverty, able to maintain a 200-year-old mansion. Many Irish people also reviled the lavish Georgian buildings for their association with the British occupation. “May the crows roost in its rafters,” one farmer is said to have remarked about the large house on his family’s land.

Meanwhile, the Irish government had neither the money nor much inclination to support preservation. Some officials openly assailed the Irish Georgian Society as elitist, a charge that endures to a lesser degree today. In 1966 the Lord Mayor of Dublin dismissed the society’s efforts, saying ordinary citizens had “little sympathy with the sentimental nonsense of persons who had never experienced bad housing conditions.”

Mr. Guinness was equally dismissive in return. “We were confronting a philistine state,” he said, a point that was driven home to him one day in 1957 when he saw workers systematically dismantling a pair of 18th-century houses on Kildare Place in Dublin. The city, which owned the houses, planned to demolish them in favor of new construction.

“People on the roof slinging slates down from perfectly good, beautiful buildings, with red-brick facades and good interiors,” recalled Mr. Guinness, indignation still evident in his voice. “And now they’d be worth millions.”

Mr. and Mrs. Guinness envisioned their group as a guardian of the nation’s architectural heritage, never mind that neither had formal training in architecture, Irish or otherwise. With 16 volunteers — Trinity College professors and students, friends who owned country houses and some whom Mr. Guinness called “ordinary civilized people” — they set out to spread their preservation ethos.

“They did start a quest, a sort of mission, when Irish 18th-century buildings were completely unfashionable,” said Desmond FitzGerald, the Knight of Glin, an early convert to the Guinness cause and, since 1991, president of the Irish Georgian Society.

The Guinnesses led members of the society on regular scouting missions to view buildings at risk. They lobbied local and national authorities, reminding policy makers that Irish craftsmen had constructed these buildings. They held cricket matches and galas and lectures to raise money, and Mr. Guinness, and later Mr. FitzGerald, began traveling to the United States to lecture on Irish architecture and design.

Two projects in particular helped galvanize public support for the society’s work. The first was Mountjoy Square, a cluster of town houses in north-central Dublin that dated to 1791. By the early 1960s, many of them had been abandoned, and a developer was buying them up with plans to replace them with a large office development. In 1964, the Guinnesses intervened, buying a single decrepit property, 50 Mountjoy Square, that stood in the middle of the proposed construction. The standoff got plenty of attention in the Irish press, and two years later a court hearing resulted in the developer’s backing out of the project.

The following year Mr. Guinness wielded his checkbook again, buying what many considered the most important house in Ireland for $259,000. The house, Castletown, in County Kildare, was the country’s largest Palladian house and the only one designed by the Italian architect Alessandro Galilei. It was built starting in the 1720s for William Conolly, the speaker of the Irish House of Commons, and had been in the Conolly family for nearly 250 years.

But by 1967 Castletown had been abandoned for two years. A housing development had recently sprouted next door, and an auction of its possessions, accumulated over two centuries, had left it virtually empty. Preservationists worried that it could succumb to the whims of a short-sighted developer. To buy it, Mr. Guinness borrowed against a trust he would come into in a few years.

Led by the Guinnesses — who, for aristocrats, were unabashedly bohemian and did not shy from taking a paintbrush in hand or climbing a ladder to remove moldy wallpaper — an army of volunteers descended on Castletown. Donors supplied period furnishings to fill its vast rooms, and that summer, Castletown opened its doors for visitors. Jacqueline Kennedy made a surprise visit and was given a well-publicized tour. Today, Castletown is owned by the Irish government and remains open to the public.

“When you think that that house was nearly lost to dereliction,” Mr. FitzGerald said.

Mr. FitzGerald, now 71, studied art history at Harvard and has written about Irish art, furniture and architecture. He also knows a few things about restoring old houses. Glin Castle, his home in County Limerick, has been in his family for 700 years. He inherited it when he was just 12, after the death of his father in 1949. At that point, according to Mr. FitzGerald, the family had no money and the house was in disrepair. His stepfather, a Canadian businessman, saved it, he said.

Today Mr. FitzGerald and his wife, Olda, live in a wing of Glin Castle, which they operate as a 15-room hotel. (They have a second home in Dublin.) His own experience, he believes, underscores the importance of preservation to Ireland. “I think we need the historic houses if we’re going to set ourselves up in the grand shop of tourism that the rest of Europe takes part in,” he said.

Under his leadership, the Irish Georgian Society operates on an annual budget of less than $1 million, raised from private donors. Based in Dublin, it keeps an office on Manhattan’s Upper East Side; 600 of its roughly 3,000 members live in the United States and provide two-thirds of its funding.

The group now publishes an annual scholarly journal, gives scholarships to Irish students of architecture and preservation, conducts trips abroad to historic sites and funds grants for restoration projects, like the recent repair of a conical roof at the 15th-century Barmeath Castle in County Louth.

This year the society organized a series of fund-raising events for its golden anniversary, to pay for restoring the “eating parlor” at Headfort, an 18th-century estate in County Meath, in its original colors — what Mr. FitzGerald called “a very intricate and complicated paint job.” The parlor, a high-ceilinged room with ornate plasterwork, is part of a suite of six rooms designed in the neoclassical style by the renowned Scottish architect Robert Adam. They are the only rooms he designed in Ireland that are known to exist.

LEIXLIP CASTLE has its own place in Irish Georgian Society lore. For many years it served as the organization’s de facto clubhouse, the scene of picnics and parties and a magnet for glitterati. (Mr. Guinness remembers Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithfull visiting in the 1960s and walking off into the grass just as lunch was being served. “I suppose they got bored with our conversation,” he said.)

Over the years, the Guinnesses have outfitted their home with objects largely reaped from native soil. The library’s gilt mirror, which Mr. Guinness bought at the Castletown auction in 1966, was made by John and Francis Booker, premiere mirror makers of mid-18th century Dublin. Mr. Guinness bought the dining room sideboard at a 1973 auction at nearby Malahide Castle. The 1740s Kilkenny marble chimneypiece in the front hall came from Ardgillan Castle in County Dublin. Mr. Guinness acquired it around 1960 by swapping the Victorian fireplace that had been in the front hall.

“I try to collect Irish furniture and pictures,” Mr. Guinness said. “And you used to be able to buy it very cheaply. Now people have discovered it.”

He has only himself to blame. Mr. Guinness, who has written extensively about Irish architecture and design, received an award in 2006 from Queen Sofia of Spain on behalf of Europa Nostra, a pan-European cultural heritage group, which cited his “fifty years of unrelenting voluntary efforts” on behalf of Ireland’s architectural heritage. The following month the Irish government provided about $645,000 in start-up funds for the Irish Heritage Trust, an independent charity designed to take ownership of historic properties.

Kevin Baird, the executive director, said the trust is just the sort of government-sanctioned body for which the Irish Georgian Society had long lobbied. “The Georgians deserve huge praise,” Mr. Baird said. “They were swimming against the tide for so long, and they were instrumental in turning that tide.”

That the tide had truly turned became evident last month, when the society published a book by Robert O’Byrne, an Irish journalist, documenting its history. The foreword, which described the society as “a fine example of the extraordinary lasting effect that a small but committed organisation can have,” was written by Mary McAleese, the president of Ireland.

At present, some brave hearts are scouring the Cork dump to see what may or may not have been dumped there.

In accord with the statement in the financial returns for 2007recording a shift from restoration to conservation, some work has begun with the restoration of the strap work on the north door of the west facade. In the past few weeks, the strawork has been removed and is apparently being repaired by Twiggs of Lismore. It remains to be seen what this company can do with the strapwork. It appears that the original plan was to dismount the door completely but even the faint hearted Cobh Urban District Council balked at that idea after all, what would the Cobh UDC do if they could not put the door back uo and were left with the very likely prospect of a gaping hole in the west facade for rather a long time.

However, the real difficulty will come with the strapwaork of the main portal door. The door itself is a complicated structure and the strppwork is not merely decorative. Long years of neglect has seen the decay of much of the metal work and the continual refusal to paint it has caused weathering problems. However, the great Cacciotti, Cork County Council Architect, is on the job and we are all waiting to see how he manages this particular hot potatoe.

Rumour has it that a clean upoperation has begun on Cobh Cathedral with truck loads of rubbish being carted off to the Cork dump. More on this development shortly.

Some interesting ecclesiastical titles for anyone condsidering stocking-fillers:

http://www.spirebooks.com/index.html