The old phrase "if the walls could talk" rarely is more apt than for Aras an Uachtarain. Through its doors have walked John F. Kennedy, Queen Victoria, Princess Grace, Bill Clinton, John Charles McQuaid, George V . . . Its history touches everything from the IRA to the White House, Bill Clinton to Princess Diana - quite a history for a building that was once on the brink of demolition. Aras an Uachtarain started life as the home of Phoenix Park ranger Nathaniel Clements. But in the late 18th century it was bought, extended and turned into a new residence for the lord lieutenant or viceroy, who had until then lived in Dublin Castle. Extra rooms were added for distinguished visitors; the ballroom, where ambassadors now meet the President, was added on for Queen Victoria while a whole new residential wing - where our President now lives - was added in 1911 for the last visit by a reigning British monarch, King George V, when he came with Queen Mary to open the College of Science, now Government Buildings in Merrion Street. In its day, the ever-growing Phoenix Park Lodge made quite an impression on young Irish architect James Hoban, so much so that he may have used the lodge's new portico, facing on to the main road in the Phoenix Park, as a model when designing a much larger portico for the White House. With a portico like their own at the Aras, and with the White House's interior modelled by Hoban on the first and second floors of Leinster House, it is no wonder visiting US presidents such as Clinton feel so at home in Ireland! But towards the end of the 19th century, its future looked in doubt. British politicians debated abolishing the lord lieutenancy because power had long since gone to the chief secretary, who sat in cabinet. Even its role as a royal residence was in doubt; Prince Edward, (the future King Edward VII) proposed that the royal family establish a Balmoral-type residence in Ireland, at Killeen Castle in Co Meath. But instead, he bought Sandringham; the lord lieutenancy survived. Until 1922, that is, when the Treaty created the office of governor-general of the Irish Free State. With a civil war to deal with, what to do with the empty Lodge in the Park was the least on W.T. Cosgrave's mind. All were agreed, however, that no way was the governor-general to be installed there. That would bring back too many memories of the old days of British rule in Ireland. Instead, when it was ready, the governor-general was to be installed in the empty former Chief Secretary's Lodge, across the road.
It took the IRA to change those plans. With death threats being made against the new governor-general, Tim Healy, the government had to move him to somewhere safe quickly. The Vice-regal Lodge was safe and empty, so that was where he was sent, temporarily. But as with so much else in Ireland, "temporary" has a habit of becoming permanent. Five years later the second governor-general, James MacNeill, resided in the lodge, "temporarily". He was still there when, after a row with Eamon de Valera (now back from the wilderness into government) an unlikely alliance of de Valera and King George V together talked him into resigning in 1932. Once again, the lodge's future was in serious danger. De Valera new man in the governor-generalship, Domhnall O Buachalla, lived elsewhere. For five years the building was like the Mary Celeste, empty and forlorn, its furniture, carpets, even light fittings taken away bit by bit to be used elsewhere. Only the portraits of past kings and queens, and a list Ireland's Great War dead, were left. The death sentence was passed in January 1938. Dev decided the new "president of Ireland" would not live at the lodge. Instead, it was to be demolished and a presidential bungalow built in the grounds. But where was the president to live in the meantime? First, de Valera proposed the 4old Chief Secretary's Lodge, where the US ambassador also "temporarily" lived. No, the Office of Public Works said. It has gone beyond its "useful life!" What about St Anne's in Raheny then, de Valera suggested. The retired bishop living there told de Valera to get lost: he wasn't moving. OK, then what about a large house in Castleknock, de Valera pleaded as it got dangerously close to the inaugurating of the first president, Douglas Hyde, who obviously needed somewhere to live. "Too small!" the OPW replied, having inspected it. With no alternatives, de Valera was forced to let Hyde move into the lodge, renamed Aras an Uachtarain, temporarily. So temporarily, in fact, that initially most of the house was locked away from Hyde.
He could use the study, office, drawing room and dining room, but the ballroom and the rest of the place was under lock and key. But then Hitler invaded Poland. Ireland declared the Emergency and with it, any thoughts of demolishing the Aras and building a presidential bungalow on the site died. Eventually, work began on restoring and refurnishing the house. Hyde's chief aide, Michael McDunphy, cribbed about the place being too small for a president but was told to shut up and make do. During the term of the second President, Sean T. O Ceallaigh, (1945-1959), a serious renovation began, creating the now famous corridor containing busts of past presidents, along with the rather odd-looking, tiled spiral staircase. The royal portraits and list of Ireland's Great War dead disappeared to be replaced by pictures of Pearse and Connolly. Only under President Childers (1973-74) were its past royal connections recognised; plaques in the grounds commemorating royal visitors were restored - as former Northern Prime Minister, Terence O'Neill, noted on a visit. And so it had a new lease of life; the place where wheelchair-bound stroke sufferer Douglas Hyde lived while some tittered about dubious rumours claiming he had become senile and sex-mad; where Sean T. O Ceallaigh got his knuckles rapped for triggering off a row between Stalin and Pope Pius XII; where de Valera in 1969 talked Kevin Boland out of resigning from government over the North; where Erskine Childers nearly got drowned and arrested semi-naked in a single afternoon; where Cearbhall O Dalaigh resigned over the "thundering disgrace" outburst in 1976; where Paddy Hillery had to call a press conference to deny he had a mistress in 1979; and where he was placed under seige by mysterious phone callers in 1982; where Mary Robinson, with a "tombstone smile", appointed Harry Whelehan as president of the High Court in 1994.
Yes, indeed, if those walls of the Aras, or the lodge, whatever you call it, could talk, there would be a bestseller in the making.