The Great British Story: Armagh

CHORAL MUSIC

Armagh, or Ard Mhacha, as it was originally known,

was repeatedly a hilltop settlement as far back as 3000 BC.

But of course, it first came to prominence

when St Patrick founded his church here, back in 445 AD,

becoming the ecclesiastical capital of Ireland

which it remains, nearly 1,600 years on.

But in that time, it has been razed and rebuilt several times.

Much has already been said about Armagh and St Patrick,

but what we're interested in today is another,

perhaps not so familiar, part of the Armagh story.

We're concentrating on the mid-18th to 19th century

and the legacy of a man whose vision it was

to transform Armagh into a cosmopolitan university city.

His name was Richard Robinson

and we'll see how much of what happened then

can truly be described as a Great British Story.

For part of my childhood, I was raised in Armagh city.

My mum was from Yorkshire but my dad was from Northern Ireland

and I went to St Malachy's Primary school here until the age of 10.

I had some really great times here, some really fond memories

and I remember always being impressed

by the many fine buildings that were dotted around the city.

And then I used to wonder

why it looks so much grander than so many other towns.

Now, as we're about to find out,

its echoes of the Georgian eloquence of Bath or Dublin

is down in part to one man,

and that is Richard Robinson, the Church of Ireland Primate from 1765.

So, who was he?

Well, I'm keen to uncover the history of the man

who shaped the city I once called home.

And where better to start than here, Armagh's public library

or as it's more commonly known, the Robinson Library?

'Carol Conlon is assistant keeper at the research library,

'which also enjoys museum status.'

-Hello, Carol.

-Hello, Dermot.

-Good to see you.

You know I'm mad to know about Richard Robinson,

and I know you're the person with all the answers.

Simple question first of all - how did he come to be in Armagh?

Richard Robinson was an Englishman who chose to go into the church

and he came over to Ireland. He arrived first in Dublin

and then his career in the church in Ireland took off extremely well

and by the time he was 56,

he became Primate of the established church.

He finds Armagh, the city, in a very poor state.

I mean, it has had such a troubled history,

with many invasions, destructions and so on.

What he chose not to do was follow his immediate predecessors,

which was to turn round and go back to Dublin

or to live possibly in Drogheda.

He felt because it was the ecclesiastical capital

that he should reside in Armagh.

But also, he wanted a university to be established,

a second university on the island of Ireland,

and he chose Armagh to be the one.

He didn't just talk about it, he had buildings established,

this one being one of the first to be used

by all the different departments or faculties

in the life of the University.

He also had the Armagh Observatory built,

which was to be the faculty of science.

And the Royal School he had moved from rather cramped conditions

to a very fine building which it still uses today.

You have very much the style of an Oxford college.

Then the old hospital, called the infirmary in his day.

That was to be the teaching hospital and the faculty of medicine.

Areas like the Commons,

which is still clearly visible to this day,

that had been used for racing, for gambling and so on

and of course, as a good primate he was going to sort that out

and not have that available again.

It was renamed the Mall.

We have it to this day for everybody to use.

The requirement is, it's free access. He required that to remain such.

He also had built the registry, a year after this library,

and that's in a row of lovely 18th-century houses here,

very close to the cathedral.

Number 5 Vicar's Hill looks like any of the dwelling houses

from the outside, very modest looking.

Inside, far from it.

Wonderful building which houses some of the very fine collections

which Robinson donated to the library.

So, Carol, why do you think he did it all?

Do you think there was perhaps an element of vanity about it?

I like to think it was of the time.

It was the 18th century, the Age of Enlightenment,

a great deal going on in European countries and in England

and that he didn't want Ireland to be left out.

He certainly didn't want Armagh to be left out.

Even after his death, other architects, other archbishops,

other people who had the wealth built on what was done.

That's why many of the wonderful buildings we have still

in Armagh either were built in his time or as a direct result.

OK, Carol, thanks for that.

Well, I'm off to feast my eyes on some of those buildings.

The palace was the first building Robinson commissioned.

It was designed by his favoured architect, Thomas Cooley,

and completed in 1770.

A third storey and private chapel were added later.

A 114-foot obelisk in the grounds

is a monument to the Duke of Northumberland,

who helped him become primate.

The palace was inhabited by successive primates until 1975,

when it was sold to Armagh Council, who occupy it today.

Well Paul, this is a modest little place to call home(!)

I suppose Richard Robinson was very comfortable here.

Why did he have it built?

When he came to Armagh, there was already a house provided for him

but it was in a poor state.

He didn't think it was something

of grand enough standing or status for himself.

As you see today, the third storey and also a portico

have since been added to it, about 50 years later.

-Inside, a lot of it's still intact. Shall we have a look?

-Yes, indeed.

Well, Paul, who have we got here?

I see, good King George and Queen Charlotte.

Well, they were painted by an artist called Allan Ramsay,

a famous artist from the Georgian era.

I suppose one of the most striking aspects

is if you look closely at the facial part,

you'll notice there is like a box around it?

-Oh, yes.

-And it was only for that part

that Allan Ramsay was responsible.

As for the remaining part, it would have been a lesser artist

who would have completed the painting and of course, King George III

and Queen Charlotte wouldn't have been there for that part either.

-So it's the original body double?

-It's the original body double!

Well, Paul, this is quite a room.

I see a big beam up there. Was it two rooms originally?

Originally it was.

When Robinson was here, on this side, he had his withdrawing room

and then here, he would have had his study or his library.

OK, so he'd sit in this part in his library, he'd look out

those magnificent windows and what would he have seen at that time?

The first thing he probably saw as he looked up to the left

was Gallows Hill, probably something quite unpleasant for himself

and also for his guests.

As a man of the cloth, I think it did upset him

because later on, he had the gallows moved to the gaol.

I mean, Gallows Hill is where public executions and took place

and public executions meant there were big crowds as well?

Big crowds would have been coming up.

The execution would have been almost a family day out.

But as I say, as a man of the cloth, this was pretty gruesome

for someone like him to be witnessing on a fairly regular basis.

He had rather a unusual view about the smell of food?

Originally, the palace kitchens were in the basement

but the odours coming from the kitchens came up into the reception.

Later, the kitchens were moved outside

and they were adjacent to what we call the servants' tunnel.

As they were coming up through the tunnel,

any servant who carried the food had to whistle.

If they weren't whistling,

it was considered they were eating the Archbishop's food!

So he was a greedy man, too!

OK, but he was also a pious man who's got the chapel,

which is worth a look, isn't it?

Absolutely. I think we should go and have a look at it.

Goodness, but this is fantastic! Just look at that ceiling!

Tell me about it.

The building itself was built for Archbishop Robinson

shortly after he became Archbishop, and it took five years to complete.

Those who would have attended

would have either come by special invitation,

or there were those who were working on the palace and the main grounds.

When one came in here, one knew exactly where they were to be seated

according to their status in society.

Just over here you've got the Archbishop's throne,

supported by Corinthian columns.

Above it, a carving of the Archbishop's mitre.

What about the windows? When we were outside,

there seemed to be a lot more glass than is on display on the inside.

It's to do with the Georgian symmetry

and if you go down the outside on the north and the south-facing side,

you'll count, of course, the same number of windows.

But these ones are blocked off

to prevent the cold winds and draughts

coming through in the winter months.

Another of Robinson's buildings is the Royal School.

It originates from 1608, when King James I

commissioned five Royal schools,

mainly to educate the children of Plantation settlers.

Today it sits on College Hill,

having been moved from an earlier site by Robinson,

who had the new school built here in 1774,

where it became known as the Eton of Ireland.

So this was going to be the seat of the University here.

Do you know why that never happened?

Probably for many reasons.

The politics of the time,

Trinity had already been established in 1598, I think,

and it would have drawn away from Trinity.

This, I suppose, would have been the social sciences seat.

The university didn't come off, but we've got the school.

-Well, no better man to show me round. Can I have a look?

-Come on in.

Well, Paul, is this more or less as it was in Robinson's time?

Yes, this is as it was.

In fact, this would have been the boarding area and the schoolhouse,

where the headmaster lived.

These buildings are still used for boarding.

This was a garrison school.

To populate Ireland under the Plantation,

schools of this proportion were built all along the border.

You've got Raphoe and Prior, Dungannon, Pretora and Cavan,

which are all royal schools.

They drew largely, I suppose,

from an Anglican background from all over Ireland

and the children would have had to travel considerable distances to get here, in fact.

And how did they do that? By coach?

They would come up by horse and carriage.

There was one called the Armagh Lark, and it would take 12 hours,

believe it or not, to get up from Dublin.

It would be an exhausting journey and also a dangerous one,

because there were highwaymen,

so the kids would come in bedraggled and exhausted

and it would have been quite a feat for them.

On two occasions, the headmasters were actually barred out.

Kids at the end of Lent would have barred the master out

and then welcomed him in with a Latin phrase

but the boys of Armagh took it a bit more seriously than that.

In 1788, when there was a head called Dr Carpendale,

he banned the Wednesday afternoon holiday,

which was viewed as an ancient right in the school,

and they hacked away the stairs and locked themselves in the dorm,

shipped in food and grog and beer and wine and so on

and they were taking pot-shots at people.

One pot-shot actually hit the bed head of Dr Carpendale's wife,

so he wrote a letter demanding a truce.

A truce was duly given.

They didn't get the holiday but they weren't flogged.

Tell me about some of the great and the good

who've been to the Royal School.

Well, there'd have been two foreign ministers, Lecky, the historian.

Dr Gillespie, who was Nelson's surgeon,

allegedly advised him not to go to the Battle of Trafalgar.

Tommy Bowe is the latest, I suppose, Irish international.

We also had one guy, William McCrum, who invented the penalty kick.

McCrum's idea came in as rule 13 of the game, so there you go.

Armagh Observatory was another of Robinson's grand buildings

and was intended as the school of science for the proposed university.

It's the only site in the world to have an unbroken record

of climate conditions since it opened in 1789.

This is Market Street, commercial centre of the city,

and site of the once thriving weekly market since medieval times.

Now in 1770, Robinson commissioned a census by William Lodge

and it lists the various establishments and in this area,

we had apothecaries, watchmakers, weavers, innkeepers,

braziers, britches makers and barbers, to name just a few.

Also in this area stood the original sessions or courthouse and jail,

although there is a dispute about where these actually stood.

The popular legend goes that the prison was just down there.

Before Robinson had the new gaol built on the Mall,

people say that this is where it was.

Today it houses a pub called The Hole In The Wall,

apparently a reference to the jail's nickname

because the story goes that at the time, prisoners had to be fed

by their friends and family,

so this is where they'd come to throw food to the starving inmates -

through the aforementioned hole in the wall.

Now is that true?

Well, probably not but the speculation is that it was close by,

but it's probably long since gone.

But hey, this version is more entertaining for the tourists!

When a prisoner was to be executed,

they'd be marched up this street towards the cathedral and then

on to Gallows Hill, which was on the outskirts of the city at the time.

He'd be accompanied by a large group of locals

beating staffs on the ground, making a huge racket.

It really must have been quite a sight.

The executions themselves were a public spectacle.

People would assemble on Gallows Hill with their families

and a picnic for a day out.

The Gallows themselves were decorated with a black iron skull

for dramatic effect.

After the execution was over,

the body would be allowed to hang for several hours

as a warning to others about attempting to break the law.

Robinson had a new jail built on the south end of the Mall in 1780.

Again, designed by Cooley.

Executions originally took place at the front

before being moved within the prison walls later.

It was extended twice to accommodate ever-growing numbers,

particularly during the famine.

It eventually became a women's prison, in use until 1986.

Gabriel, no doubt this is a foreboding place.

Just tell me what life was like for the inmates

when this was first built.

It was a smaller jail but there was probably a very harsh jail.

It started off with nine bays in 1780

and there were four bays for men and four for women.

The women in the prison here in Armagh did washing of clothes

and cleaning of the buildings

and the men did breaking of stones out in the prison yard

and they did whitewashing of the walls.

And if they didn't do their work,

or if they broke the rules in any other way, they were punished.

One of the punishments was a thing called the tread wheel.

It was a big wheel with planks that ran across

and the planks were eight inches apart,

and 16 prisoners would have been lined up in bare feet.

They had to jump up on the planks and they had to do it synchronised.

If you missed your beat you came down with your shins on the planks.

So in most jails, these tread wheels were used

to grind meal or pump water.

In Armagh, it was just pure punishment.

We're standing on what later became known as B Wing,

and it was opened in 1846.

We must remember, that was just at the apex of the famine.

The cell, I suppose, ideally was built for one or two prisoners.

During the famine in 1846-47,

there could have been anything up to 10 prisoners in a cell.

It really would have been a hellhole, would be the best way to describe it.

Famine fever, typhus and cholera, they would have been dirty,

they would have been covered in lice and the disease

would have been transferred one to the other with the lice.

I wouldn't think they had beds.

They were probably lying in their rags on the floor.

So a terrible place, people dying with disease.

33 people died in the year 1847,

died with disease, not with execution.

Definition of crime then was different.

It was a criminal offence to be a debtor, wasn't it?

It was a criminal offence to steal cabbage out of a field, even,

so the slightest of crime, you could've ended up here.

Well, life was understandably hard for lawbreakers

but imagine finding yourself being incarcerated

just for the so-called crime of falling on hard times.

Well, before the welfare state was created,

you could find yourself in such a position

by ending up in the workhouse.

These institutions were designed as a last resort for the destitute

and Armagh's workhouse opened in 1842

on the site of what is now Tower Hill Hospital.

This was the largest workhouse in Ulster,

with accommodation for 1,000 inmates.

The regime was extremely repressive to deter people from entering.

Overcrowding and fever were rife during the famine years,

when up to 500 people died.

They were buried anonymously in mass graves on the site.

The attic sleeping quarters remain unchanged,

giving us a glimpse into the miserable living conditions.

Mary, workhouses were designed to be awful places.

You had to be absolutely desperate to end up in one.

Yes, they certainly weren't refuges. They were last resorts.

The conditions in workhouses were to be

worse than the worst conditions outside.

They came about at a time when there was terrible poverty in Ireland

throughout the whole island.

In a sense, they were an English solution to an Irish problem,

because they were built to the same design as workhouses in England

under the poor law there,

but the problem in Ireland was, there was no work for people

and the population had increased.

We're talking about the 1840s.

Now, what happened in Ireland, as we all know in the 1840s,

was the famine and these workhouses must have been turning people away?

People never wanted to go into the workhouses.

There was a terrible stigma attached to the workhouse.

People only entered the workhouse as a last resort.

-The whole family had to go.

-So the family, entire family, turned up.

What happened to them then? What was the process?

They were separated. Men and women were separate

and the children were separated from their parents as well.

Everybody had to work in the workhouse.

-The work was dull and monotonous.

-What kind of stuff did they do?

They spun flax and wool and they picked oakum -

a particularly nasty type of work removing tar from old ropes.

-From the Navy?

-Yes, and broke stones.

Conditions were really dire.

They didn't have beds. They slept on pallets

and the food was just enough to keep people alive.

It was a very strict regime and any deviation was punished.

These are some extracts from the minutes.

"James McLaughlin, burning his shoes,

"to be flogged by schoolmaster when out of hospital."

So obviously, he got burnt and ended up in hospital but nonetheless,

he was still going to be punished.

"Bridget McNamee, disturbing the nursery, to break stones for a week.

"James McKinney, neglecting his work,

"no supper for a week and 24 lashes."

Well how did you get out of the workhouse,

were you allowed to leave?

-You were free to leave at any stage.

-But could you come back then?

In England, you had relief as a right.

Here, it was certainly not a right, it was a concession.

It was at the discretion of the board of guardians.

Created shortly after his death,

this painting from 1810 depicts some of Robinson's legacy,

including the Royal School, the gaol and the newly transformed Mall.

He added a steeple to the cathedral,

which was eventually removed because it was unstable.

He also built a barracks, a new market area

and instigated sewers, wells and the paving of streets.

Tenants who didn't improve their homes

would not have their leases renewed.

Described as a master builder,

it's estimated that Robinson spent up to £40,000 -

a fortune at the time - transforming the city.

After Robinson died in 1794,

his ethos of bettering the city continued, most notably,

through a man called Leonard - or Lenny - Dobbin.

He was a property developer

who bought this poor area of the city round about 1800

and then following Robinson's example, developed it

into this beautiful curved terrace which he called Dobbin Street.

He also developed a new indoor linen market in the area,

which was quite an innovation,

and it seems he took a lot of business away from Market Street,

which was the main trading centre since medieval times.

Dobbin Street was clearly the up-and-coming part of town.

Dobbin became the city's MP in 1833

and had this beautiful Georgian mansion built for himself

by one of Robinson's favourite architects, Francis Johnston.

Today it's sheltered accommodation, called Patrick's Fold,

which is rather appropriate, as it allegedly sits on the site

of the first church established in Armagh by St Patrick

more than 1,500 years ago.

CHORAL MUSIC

And so Armagh continued to develop.

Inspired by Robinson's example, many fine Georgian buildings

appeared throughout the city, particularly around the Mall,

such as the courthouse in 1809 and the County Museum in 1834.

The Mall itself remains a green haven for the public,

as Robinson originally attended.

He's not revered by everyone, but Richard Robinson's arrival

marked a major turning point in Armagh's history.

Arguably its greatest town planner,

no doubt he would have been satisfied with the way it's evolved.

And despite some recent eyesores,

its Georgian splendour still resonates.

He's buried here, in the crypt in St Patrick's Cathedral,

leaving £5,000 in his will for the founding of the university.

Despite the fact that that never happened in the end,

Robinson's legacy in Armagh can truly be described as a Great British Story.

And so we come to the end of our journey.

Armagh's history is so rich that it's difficult to do it justice

in such a short space of time.

But stories telling the history of your place are easy to uncover.

There are people like those I've met in almost every town,

who are passionate about local history

and keen to share it with you.

So get out there and discover the history of your place -

it's over to you.

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