Hidden Dublin Page 2

  In 1606 the Inn of Court moved across the river to its present location for a short time but due to pressure from Dublin Corporation, which wanted to keep them within the confines of the old city, the courts moved back across the Liffey in 1608 to a new home at Christchurch. By the end of the seventeenth century the courts were in a very dilapidated condition and the architect William Robinson was commissioned to rebuild them. Despite Robinson’s efforts, by 1755 the Four Courts were in ruins again and a decision was taken to build a new structure across the Liffey.

  In order to gain entry to the old Four Courts, visitors had literally to go through ‘Hell’. Christchurch was at one time surrounded by a warren of narrow lanes and alleyways. One of these passages to the west of the cathedral known as ‘Hell’ is said to have taken its name from an underground cellar known by the same name. A large wooden statue of the devil adorned the arched entrance to the alley. An unnamed traveller quoted in John Gilbert’s History of the City of Dublin said of the effigy: ‘ … over the arched entrance there was pointed out to me the very image of the Devil, carved in oak, and not unlike one of those hideous black figures that are still in Thomas Street, hung over tobacconists’ doors.’

  The old courts continued in use up until 1796 and one of the strangest trials ever witnessed took place there in 1795. In April of that year the Reverend William Jackson was tried and convicted of planning a French invasion of Ireland. Rather than wait for the judge, Lord Clonmel (better know to Dubliners as copper-faced Jack), to pass the death sentence on him, Jackson took poison and died standing in the dock before Clonmel could pass judgement on him. His body was left in the dock overnight and an inquest held the following day revealed that he had taken ‘a large quantity of metallic poison’. It later emerged that he had mixed arsenic and aquafortis with his tea.

  Jackson was buried in St Michan’s churchyard and Jonah Barrington in his Personal Sketches says that despite having committed treason and suicide, Jackson had a ‘splendid funeral’ that was attended by several members of parliament.

  Work on the present Four Courts didn’t commence until 1776 when Thomas Cooley began work on the Public Records Office. When Cooley died in 1784 James Gandon took over the project and the building was largely complete by 1802.

  Oliver Bond

  The name’s Bond, not James but Oliver Bond, another ‘forgotten man’ of Dublin’s history who is now chiefly remembered by the street named after him as well as Oliver Bond House, the Dublin Corporation flat complex built in the 1930s.

  Originally from Derry, Bond had a prosperous woollen drapery business in Pill Lane in 1783 and two years later he had moved to a larger building at 13 Bridge Street. Bond joined the United Irishmen in 1791 along with his friend Simon Butler. He was soon fined £500 and served his first stint in Newgate Prison, having been found guilty of sedition.

  The six-month prison term didn’t impose too much strain on Bond and Butler as they were allowed the run of the prison and they could consume as much food and drink as they could get in from the outside. This must have been a fairly substantial amount as they managed to run up a wine bill of £500 during the period of their incarceration.

  On 12 March 1798, fifteen members of the Leinster Directory of the United Irishmen, including Bond, were arrested during a meeting at his house in Bridge Street. They had been betrayed by another United man Thomas Reynolds, who had been sworn into the society by Lord Edward Fitzgerald.

  The men were charged with high treason and taken to Newgate Prison. Bond’s trial took place in July of 1798 and he was found guilty and sentenced to death.

  The judge ordered that Bond be taken to the gallows and ‘hanged by the neck, but not until you are dead, for while you are yet living, your bowels are to be taken out and thrown in your face, and your head is to be cut off, and your head and limbs to be at the King’s disposal, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul’.

  However, twenty minutes before the execution was due to take place, Bond received news from the sheriff that he was to be reprieved. On the morning of 6 September 1798, Bond was found dead in his cell at Newgate in very mysterious circumstances. The next morning, the official explanation for his death was that he had died from apoplexy but few, if any, believed that this was the real reason.

  The evening before, Bond had been in perfect health and was seen playing hand-ball in the prison yard and it was generally believed at the time that he had been murdered by one of the jailers for a reason that has never been established.

  Some reports make the claim that a turnkey called Gregg was responsible for Bond’s death, while the finger of suspicion was also pointed at another jailer called Simpson. A letter written by Bond’s neighbour James Davock recounted in R.R. Madden’s Lives of the United Irishmen claimed that Bond had been strangled by Simpson during a riot in the prison.

  Yet another claim published in a newspaper many years after said that Bond had died after one of the warders had struck him on the back of the head with a heavy kettle. Bond was buried in St Michan’s in a grave belonging to his wife’s family.

  If Oliver Bond is one of the forgotten men of Dublin’s history, then surely his wife Eleanor, a daughter of the Church Street iron founder, Henry Jackson, is the forgotten woman. She played an active role in all the activities of the United Irishmen and she kept the woollen business going while her husband was in prison.

  Eleanor played an active role in the recruitment and swearing in of other women to the society. She was also concerned with the welfare of the political prisoners in Kilmainham and at Christmas in 1796 she sent the prisoners a pie that contained newspapers, correspondence and writing materials.

  Following her husband’s death, Eleanor continued to run the family business until 1809 when she emigrated to Baltimore with her four children. She died there in 1843.

  McCready

  The standard work on the origins of our city street names was first printed over 100 years ago and is still the most authoritative reference book. Dublin Street Names Dated and Explained by the Reverend C.T. McCready was first published by Hodges Figgis & Co in 1892. The first edition was limited to a print run of 500 copies, some of which were to be had for half-a-crown while the hardback version sold for three shillings each.

  McCready, a Dubliner himself, was educated at Trinity College and ordained in 1866. He worked as curate in several south inner city parishes, including St Audoen’s and St Ann’s, and he later became a minor canon at St Patrick’s Cathedral.

  McCready’s book contains a wide range of interesting information on the origins of the names of the highways and byways, lanes and alleyways of Dublin. The book was organised under different headings such as: the bridges of Dublin, gates of Dublin, quays of Dublin, streets named after saints and the statues of Dublin. McCready also provides what he called a ‘rough classification’ of the sources of the names of Dublin’s streets, most of which fall under the categories of churches, kings and queens, lords lieutenant, lord mayors, noblemen and owners of property.

  However, most of the interesting Dublin street names are those listed under the categories of occupation, corruptions and physical characteristics.

  One name which could be described as occupational was Love Lane, which was changed in 1733 to Little Cuffe Street and in 1776 to French Street. McCready says that the change occurred ‘on account of previous bad repute’. The area had been one of the main red-light districts in the city.

  Another occupational name that speaks for itself was Washerwoman’s Lane in St Catherine’s parish. Interestingly, six out of the twelve names listed in this section were mentioned as far back as the twelfth century, the earliest being Sutor Street or the Street of the Shoemakers, first mentioned in 1190. The other five are Cook Street, Potter’s Street, Saddler’s Street, Skinner’s Row and the Street of the Taverners (Winetavern Street).

  Several Dublin streets got their names from their physical characteristics; Dirty Lane, now Bridgefoot Street, obviously didn’t get its n
ame because you could eat your dinner off the ground there. The names of Hill Street and High Street need no further explanation. Hind Street (formerly known as the street of the shoemakers) was another name for Behind Street, so called because it was behind Skinner’s Row.

  One very curious name mentioned in the book that we all take for granted today is Dolphin’s Barn. McCready gives no information on the origin of this name but other sources say that it was once known as Dunphy’s Barn. He also mentions a place called Dolphin’s Lane (now Golden Lane) and he speculates that the name could have arisen from a tavern there with a sign of the Dolphin hung outside.

  McCready also lists several taverns that have given their names to some laneways and yards in the city. Blue Boar Alley at the southern end of Werburgh Street was one of these. Boot Lane, now a part of Arran Street, took its name from a place called the Boot Inn, while an establishment called the Blue Hand in Pill Lane gave its name to a lane, a yard and a court.

  The Muglins

  Just to the north of Dalkey Island in Dublin Bay, there are three tiny rocky outcrops called Lamb Island, Clare Rock and Maiden Rock. Close by is another group of rocks known as the Muglins. In 1766, the bodies of two pirates were hung in chains there as a warning to other would-be transgressors of the law.

  In November 1765, a Scottish seaman Captain George Glas, in partnership with a Captain Cochrane, were on their way from the Canary Islands to London aboard The Earl of Sandwich. The ship was laden with a cargo of silk, gold dust, jewels and a large quantity of Spanish dollars. In mid-journey, four of the crew, George Gidley, Andreas Zekerman, Richard St Quintin and Peter McKinlea, an Irishman, took over the ship. Captain Cochrane was beaten to death with an iron bar while Captain Glas was stabbed to death and thrown overboard. Glas’ wife and daughter also perished when they were thrown over the side by McKinlea. The four then set sail for Ireland and as they approached the coast near New Ross they scuttled the ship, killing the last remaining crew in the process, and made off in a longboat stuffed with as much booty as it would hold.

  They landed near Duncannon Fort on 3 December 1765 and buried most of their loot on the beach in a small bay which, since the incident, has been known as Dollar Bay. Stuffing their pockets with as many Spanish dollars as they could carry, the men set off for the village of Fishertown near New Ross. The four spent a few hours there and managed to get so drunk that they were robbed of $1,200.

  The next day they travelled to New Ross where they laundered some of their cash and bought pistols and horses. However, they spent so much money in New Ross that they managed to attract the attention of the authorities who suspected the four of piracy. Suspicion deepened further when the wreck of The Earl of Sandwich was blown ashore soon afterwards.

  Meanwhile, the four pirates decided that it would be prudent to get out of New Ross so they travelled to Dublin, where they took rooms at the Black Bull Tavern in Thomas Street.

  The sheriff of Ross sent an order to the mayor of Dublin to arrest the men and St Quintin and Zekerman were captured and brought to Newgate Gaol. Gidley and McKinlea were arrested later in a coach bound for Cork. When questioned, the four admitted their guilt and revealed the whereabouts of the buried treasure to the authorities.

  The four pirates were tried for robbery and murder on 1 March 1766. They were found guilty of the crimes and all four were sentenced to death. Two days later they were taken by military escort to St Stephen’s Green where they were hanged on the gallows. The bodies were taken back to Newgate Prison and from there they were taken in the black cart (an early version of the meat wagon) to be hung in chains at the Great South Wall below Ringsend. Two of the bodies were put on display at Mackarell’s Wharf and the other two were hung up at the Pigeon House itself.

  Initially, the bodies of the pirates provided a macabre sideshow for strolling Dubliners but after a few week’s interaction with the Ringsend seagulls the attraction began to fade somewhat. Walkers began to complain about the offensive sight and smell of the corpses and on 1 April the newspapers announced that the bodies of McKinlea and Gidley were to be removed to the Muglins near Dalkey Island. A gallows was erected on the Muglins and the two bodies were hung up in a new set of irons ‘said to be the completest ever made in the kingdom’.

  Dame Street

  The name of Dame Street which stretches from Cork Hill to College Green has its origins in the eastern gate of the old city walls of Dublin.

  In medieval times, even before the Anglo-Norman invasion of Ireland, the eastern gate of the walled city of Dublin was known as ‘La porte de Sainte Marie del dam’ and had a statue of the Virgin Mary placed above it. This gate, also known as Dam’s or Dame’s Gate, and the thoroughfare leading to it, were extremely narrow and as the prosperity of the town grew, it became necessary to widen the thoroughfare and the gate by knocking down a portion of the city wall in 1698. Earlier attempts had been made to remove the gate but some residents who had houses adjoining the wall had objected to the proposed demolition.

  This gate was the site of a major confrontation between the occupying Normans and the Vikings, who under the leadership of Asculv Mac Thorkil made an attempt to regain the city in 1171. ‘John the Mad’ an ally of Mac Thorkil’s attacked the gate which was defended by the Norman Miles de Cogan. Giraldus Cambrensis, in his Expugnatio Hibernica, which was written during the 1180s, described the attack on the gate: ‘They were warlike figures, clad in mail in every part of their body after the Danish manner. Some wore long coats of mail, others iron plates skilfully knitted together, and they had round, red shields protected by iron round the edge. These men, whose iron will matched their armour, drew up their ranks and made an attack on the eastern gate.’

  The ‘riding of the franchises’ of the city always commenced by riding out through this gate and a description of the procession written in 1488 says: ‘They proceeded well horsed, armed and in good array, taking their way out of Dame’s-gate, turning on their left hand to the Strand …’

  At the eastern end of Dame Street, the boundary with College Green (then Hoggen Green) was marked by Hogges Gate which later came to be known as the Blind-Gate. This was removed in the early 1660s as it was in imminent danger of collapse.

  At that time the banks of the Liffey were not walled in and there was a small harbour in close proximity to the gate. In 1534, the archbishop of Dublin, John Allen, boarded a boat at this harbour in an attempt to escape the clutches of ‘Silken Thomas’ Fitzgerald. However his boat was blown back onto the shore at Clontarf and he was murdered at Artane Castle.

  Throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Dame Street was home to a thriving newspaper and book publishing trade. Not surprisingly Dame Street was also well supplied with taverns and ‘groggeries’ such as the Half Moon Ale House, the Robin Hood and the Still, which was famous for its whiskey. However, all of these establishments paled in comparison with Patrick Daly’s chocolate house which stood at 2 and 3 Dame Street. Daly’s was one of the best-known clubs in Ireland at the time and it was mainly frequented by members of the upper classes. It was particularly noted as a gambling joint and it was said that half the landed estates in Ireland had changed hands there during its time. The club was also one of the watering holes favoured by the bucks and rakes of the city and it wouldn’t have been unusual to see some of the patrons being thrown through the windows. Duelling with pistol and sword was a commonplace occurrence at the club and there were even tales of club members using the statue of St Andrew in St Andrew’s Church for target practice!

  Provost Prison

  The last letters ever written by Theobald Wolfe Tone in November 1798 contained the address ‘Provost Prison, Dublin Barracks’. Dublin Barracks, or the Royal Barracks, is now Collins Barracks and the old Provost Prison has long since been demolished.

  Tone was taken prisoner at Lough Swilly, County Donegal, on 12 October 1798 and upon his arrival in Dublin he was taken to the Royal Barracks where he was incarcerated in the Provost’s Prison wh
ich was, at that time, under the supervision of the infamous Major Sandys. Sandys combined with the Dublin Town majors, Swan and Sirr, to create an unholy trinity which conducted a reign of terror on the citizens of Dublin during and after the 1798 rebellion.

  On the day of his trial, Tone was brought from the Provost’s Prison dressed in a French officer’s uniform consisting of ‘a large cocked hat, with broad gold lace and the tricoloured cockade; a blue uniform coat, with gold embroidered collar, and two large gold epaulets, blue pantaloons, with goldlaced garters at the knees; and short boots bound at the tops with gold lace’. After Tone was sentenced to be executed in front of the ‘new prison’ he was taken back to his cell where he was discovered on the following Monday with his throat cut.

  The old Provost Prison, originally built as a coal yard and then used as a bake-house, was sited at Drury Lane in the barracks, just off Palatine Square, and it was described as containing two ‘black holes’ that could accommodate approximately five prisoners each, and two large cells that were said to be twenty feet wide and twenty-eight feet long. These cells usually held anything up to twenty prisoners each, but more could be accommodated in times of crisis such as in 1798.

  In June 1800 a daring escape was undertaken from the Provost Prison by forty-six prisoners who were suspected of having links with the United Irishmen. The prisoners escaped by digging a tunnel from one of the ‘black holes’ in the Provost, under the perimeter wall of the barracks and out onto Arbour Hill. Some of the prisoners were foiled by the deputy provost marshal, William Blair, who had been out buying meat for the prison at the time. Giving evidence to a court of inquiry set up to investigate the escape he recounted seeing prisoners emerging from a hole close to the barrack master’s stores and fleeing into the fields at the back of Arbour Hill. Blair managed to prevent the other prisoners from escaping by throwing iron pots of meat down into the hole and blocking it up.