e centre of Merrion Square was a fountain of very
ambitious expense and design, erected to the honor of the duke and
duchess of Rutland, a lord and lady lieutenant. The fountain was only
finished in 1791, but "from a fault in the foundation, or some shameful
negligence in the construction, is already cracked and bulged in several
places; and though intended as a monument to perpetuate the memory of an
illustrious nobleman and his heroic father (the famous Lord Granby), is,
after an existence of only sixteen years, tottering to its fall." Mr.
Whitelaw continues: "Unhappily, _a savage barbarism that seems hostile
to every idea of order or decency, of beauty and elegance, prevails
among but too many of the lower orders_; and hence the decorations of
almost every public fountain have been destroyed or disfigured: the
figure, shamefully mutilated, of the water-nymph in this fountain has
been reduced to a disgusting trunk, and the _alto relievo_ over it shows
equal symptoms of decay, arising partly from violence, and partly,
perhaps, from the perishable nature of the materials." Truly a forcible
picture of art and the appreciation thereof in Ireland!

During the last century some Italians came to Dublin, who left their
mark upon the interior decorations of rich men's houses. Many of the old
houses retain the beautiful mantelpieces designed and executed by these
accomplished artists. A leading house-fitter of Dublin has, however,
bought up a good many, and they are finding their way to London, where
it is to be hoped they may produce a revolution in taste, for London
mantelpieces are, as a rule, hideous. Some of these specimens of art
have been bought by wealthy Irishmen and transferred to their
country-houses. One nobleman, Lord Langford, whose ancestral home was
wrecked in the rebellion of 1798, has lately been restoring it, and
bought up many of the Dublin mantelpieces.

The ornamentation of Belvedere House, in Gardener Row, is particularly
elaborate and in wonderfully good repair.

Irish family history contains few sadder stories than that of the first
countess of Belvedere. Lord Belvedere was a man of fashion who much
frequented St. James's, and indeed owed his elevation, first to a barony
and then to an earldom, to the favor of that highly uninteresting
monarch, George II. Leaving his wife sometimes for long periods at
Gaulston, a vast and dreary residence (since pulled down) in Westmeath,
he betook himself to London,