Sackville, Henry, Marlborough, Dominick and Henrietta Streets.

SECTION XV

The North City - Sackville, Henry, Marlborough, Dominick and Henrietta Streets

From College Green northwards for nearly half a mile runs the great thoroughfare, which is the backbone of modern Dublin, just as the westward-running line of Dame Street, High Street and Thomas Street was of the old city a century ago. It starts magnificently with the open space of College Green and the classic fronts of the Bank of Ireland and Trinity College, then there is a comparative pause in Westmoreland Street, which is really only a prelude to finer effects.

The road crosses the river by a wide and stately bridge, expands still further into the great breadth of Sackville Street, splendidly set off with the striking sculpture of the O’Connell monument facing the river and, further up, the tall pillar from which Nelson looks seaward over the tops of the houses.

Here again there is a classic portico, that of the General Post Office. At its further end Sackville Street subsides into the gardens of Rutland Square and the quieter, but still not unpleasing, architecture of the Rotunda Hospital and Concert Rooms, beyond which the ground gradually rises and a spire or two begins to raise its upward-pointing finger.

It is a singular fact that Dublin has completely altered its direction within the last century. To use a somewhat technical phrase, a change has taken place in its orientation. Its main trend is north and south, where once it was east and west. This phenomenon is due to the operations of the Wide Streets Commissioners and the building of Carlisle, now O’Connell, Bridge in the eighteenth century. The latter had been necessitated by the removal of the Custom House to its present site, where it was nearly a mile below the lowest bridge then spanning the river.

The Wide Streets Commissioners were a body appointed by the Irish parliament to improve the streets. of Dublin. They acted in a way worthy of their name. They widened and improved Dame Street and College Green, built Westmoreland and D’Olier Streets as avenues to the new bridge, and amplified Sackville Street on its further side. The great street line, which has just been described, was largely their conception.

Off Westmoreland Street to the left is Fleet Street, running later into Temple Bar. These names sound like an echo of London, though Gilbert maintains that the latter received its title from the Temple family, which took its rise in the reign of Elizabeth. Fleet Street, Dublin, is no exception to the rule that such streets must inevitably be judged by the standard of their originals and fail accordingly.

Carlisle Bridge was widened by the Corporation and re-christened, the substitution being the usual one, that of a popular leader for a viceroy. Beyond the north end of the bridge which now bears the name of the Liberator, is the O’Connell Monument, planned on a heroic scale and generally admitted to be Foley’s masterpiece. It is, indeed, a work fit to adorn any capital in Europe. The figure of O’Connell is good, but the seated emblematic female figures at the base, especially the calm-eyed Courage with sword unsheathed, at the south-west angle, are finer still, being characterised by that compound of beauty, dignity and strength, which is the highest triumph of the sculptor’s art.

Sackville Street is called after a Chief Secretary of two centuries ago. This thoroughfare, too, has been renamed to match the monument and the bridge, but the change has not been well received. The older name still holds the field so strongly that it is” possible to live in Dublin for months without knowing that its chief street has any other appellation. Before the erection of Carlisle Bridge, Sackville Street was, of course, quite off the line of traffic. At that time it possessed a mall, or tree-shaded walk, running down its centre from the Rotunda to the site of Nelson’s Pillar.

It was a fashionable suburban district. Even now some of its houses, especially in the quieter northern section, are typical old-fashioned aristocratic mansions.

Here took place one of the abductions for which Ireland was notorious. Eight or nine armed men broke into the house of Lady Netterville between the hours of eleven and twelve at night and forcibly carried away her granddaughter, Catherine Blake. One of the party was recognised, and a reward offered by the government for his arrest. The occurrence throws a light on the inefficiency of the old Dublin watch maintained by the city parishes. The abominable practice of abduction was not stamped out until the authorities sentenced a titled culprit to death, and, while remitting the extreme penalty, actually went so far as to send him to serve his term in a convict settlement with thieves and murderers.

The southern part of Sackville Street was long known as Drogheda Street, since it lay in the centre of the estates of the Earls of Drogheda. Henry, Moore, Earl and Drogheda (Sackville) Streets, all in this vicinity, taken together, make up the name of the original ground landlord, “Henry Moore, Earl of Drogheda.”

Henry Street is a turning opposite the Pillar, and becomes, a little later, Mary Street. Here is the seventeenth century S. Mary’s Church, built when the citizens first began to settle in numbers on the north bank of the Liffey. Externally it is heavy and ugly, but its interior is very pleasant to the eye, set off, as it is, with some fine and characteristic Dublin oak carving. The Ormond family have a vault here, and there is a tablet to the memory of some of that great house near the main doorway. This seems only fitting, for undoubtedly the celebrated duke is the founder of North Dublin, and deserves to be commemorated in the first church built in the quarter which he laid out.

In Marlborough Street, a parallel to Sackville Street, lying more to the east, is Tyrone House, once the home of the great Beresford family, now the office of the National Education Board. The builders of this mansion bore the title of Earls of Tyrone and, subsequently, of Marquises of Waterford. They have always been both able and successful. At one time they were strongly entrenched in almost every government department in Ireland, especially in the Revenue and the Customs.

Naturally they had deadly and bitter enemies. John Beresford is said to have perpetrated great cruelties on prisoners during periods of rebellion. According to the story, suspected persons were mercilessly flogged in a riding-school behind Tyrone House until they either fainted under the pain or consented to give information. The charge may or may not be true. Proof, as well as disproof, would probably be very difficult. Certainly neither side used very humane methods in those days. In later times the Beresford energy took the form of a reckless, daredevil courage, which delighted in breakneck feats, such as riding a horse up the steps of a grandstand or even the staircase of a mansion.

Tyrone House stands amidst the remains of its old gardens. The ancient building is that lying to the right. On the left a modern structure, the Training College, presents an exact replica of its older neighbour. The architect was Castles, who also designed Leinster House. The exterior is somewhat cold and heavy. Internally it must once have been magnificent in a solid and substantial style. The walls are lined throughout with oak wainscoting, which the Board of Works has obscured with paint or wall-paper. The doors are of mahogany, polished to a rich brown. The staircase is perhaps the finest feature. It is of wood, carved with great skill. Standing as it does, not in the entrance hall, but in a special chamber of its own with a three-light Italian window and under a decorated ceiling, it produces a marked effect. The corridors are rendered quaint by the old “coved” roofs, which also appear in the bedrooms.

Tyrone House has its ghost story. In the Red Room, once so called from the colour of its hangings, a lady of the Beresford family is said to have seen the apparition of her brother. They had exchanged a promise to the effect that whichever of them should die first would use every endeavour to appear to the survivor. At the dead of night a form appeared at the lady’s bed-foot and, in solemn tones, declared itself to be the spirit of her brother, who had just then died far away from home. Strong-nerved, like all her family, she did not cower under the clothes, but demanded some visible sign of her visitor’s supernatural nature. At once the hangings round the room flew up in all directions. Still she was sceptical, until the spectre clasped her by the hand, leaving on her skin five indelible marks, which remained there until the day of her death.

In Marlborough Street are also the severely classic Roman Catholic Cathedral and the old Protestant church dedicated to S. Thomas. The latter has a not ungraceful, if somewhat over-elaborated, exterior.

At the head of Sackville Street on the left hand side is the Rotunda, a fine concert hall of circular shape, whose history is curiously connected with that of the adjacent hospital. The first Maternity Institution in Dublin had installed itself in 59 South Great George’s Street, formerly the theatre of Madame Violante. The accommodation was so cramped that it was decided to construct a special building, the present Rotunda Hospital. Dr Mosse, the public benefactor, who had charged himself with the work, soon found the collection of funds increasingly difficult. At last he hit on a happier method of raising money than that continual importunity, which degrades the applicant and wearies the public. He utilized part of his site for gardens, where he gave fetes and musical entertainments, which eventually brought in sufficient profits to pay for the building.

The Rotunda Hospital is designed in an unusually ornate style, considering its purpose. The entrance hall is between twenty and thirty feet Square, and is adorned with massive pillars and a stone pavement set here and there with tiles. The stairs are as elaborate as in any Dublin mansion. There is a private chapel, the most beautiful of its kind in the city. The Italian artist who constructed the ceiling, ventured on effects which challenged comparison with the sculptor. Cherubic heads, alternating here and there with emblematic figures at full length, are a marked feature of the design. The centre and some of the side panels are vacant for a somewhat pathetic reason. The gifted foreign artist was on his way to Ireland to complete his work, when he was drowned at sea, leaving his ceiling thus incomplete. The light comes only from the front, where it filters through a triple stained glass window and falls pleasantly on the old woodwork. Here, too, are the “coved” corridors. The exterior is simple, yet satisfying. A tower rising in the centre prevents the building from having that rectangular, box-like appearance which mars many experiments in the classical taste.

The institution, however, is not all for show. It has relieved multitudes of the poor at their time of sorest stress. Within its walls have been born close on a quarter of a million infants, an enormous total, equal to the whole present population of the city.

In the Round Room of the Rotunda proper, as distinct from the hospital, the Volunteers met in armed convention in 1783. The formalities of a parliament were adopted. The chairs of the delegates were set in a semicircle around the president, while the gallery was crowded with spectators. The assembly in College Green was almost overawed, when Flood, as spokesman of the Volunteers, came thither to present a bill which embodied the demands of the Convention.

However the legitimate parliament summoned up courage to defy its rival. Many of the citizen soldiers were ripe for an armed revolution, which would probably have meant barricades and street fighting in Dublin, but their leaders took the more prudent course of quietly dismissing the Convention. Irish political movements often break up, when called on to make the momentous choice between constitutionalism and physical force.

Charlemont1.gif (73394 bytes)Behind the Rotunda are the still pleasant gardens, that earned the money to build the hospital long ago. They form the centre of Rutland Square, on the north side of which, standing back some feet, is Charlemont House (pictured is the Venus Library, ceiling and part of the dome), the residence of the Volunteer Earl. It is now the General Register Office. The interior shows signs of a cultured and classical taste.

The Greek columns of the hall, the white stone staircase to the left under a dome-shaped roof pierced with round bull’s-eye windows, the white marble chimneypieces, the ceilings and doorways beautiful with that really elaborate, but outwardly simple effect, which is the highest triumph of design, all help to convey the impression of its builder as a man of fine and delicate feeling in matters of art. He was also a lover of literature, for his house contains three distinct libraries. Of these the finest is the Venus Library, so called from a statue, which formerly stood in a niche there. It is a square room, crowned with a dome and enriched with a well-modelled stucco ceiling, in which are set here and there medallions bearing the heads of the Greek philosophers in high relief. Socrates is remarkable for his goat-like ugliness.

At the north-western corner of Rutland Square is Granby Row, leading northwards until it is crossed by the tramrails of Lower Dorset Street. It is continued as S. Mary’s Place, in which stands S. Mary’s Chapel of Ease, often called the Black Church. It is built of a singularly dark stone, which produces a sombre and funereal effect. After emerging from Granby Row it is well to turn to the left down Lower Dorset Street and its continuation Bolton Street. No. 12 in the former was the birthplace of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, a great dramatist, who inherited all the wit of Congreve without that coldblooded and cold-hearted licentiousness, which is so odious in the Restoration playwrights. The house is marked by a tablet.

This quarter was the first settlement of fashionable Dublin after it began to leave the city proper. Dominick Street, a wide thoroughfare crossing Bolton Street, was the residence of many of the aristocracy. The arms of the former residents are still emblazoned over some of the doorways. The cornices around the tops of the houses are sometimes adorned with mouldering statues. The iron brackets, from which the great lamps hung to illuminate the steps of the entrance, may even yet be seen. But the present population is so poor that the street is becoming daily more and more dilapidated. At No.36 was born Sir William Hamilton, a great Irish mathematical genius, who discovered the system of quaternions. This house, too, is marked by a tablet.

Henrietta Street, a turn to the right of Bolton Street, presents much the same appearance as Dominick Street. It was once called Primate’s Hill from containing the favourite residence of the archbishop. The fair and frail Lady Blessington also lived here. Her death was marked by an extravagant display of mourning that would have been considered ostentatious in the case of a royal princess. For eight days her body lay in state in a chapelle ardente hung with black and gold. The street, which is a short cul-de-sac, was blocked with the carriages of visitors.

The King’s Inns, the large building where students are trained for the Bar, contemptuously turns its back on the departed grandeur of Henrietta Street. To view the front, which is a good example of Dublin architecture, it is necessary to pass through the arch to the wide lawn beyond. This quarter of Dublin has traces of decayed industry, as well as of bygone gentility. In Lurgan Street, near the western end of Bolton Street, is the Linen Hall, founded when Dublin was the centre of that trade and Belfast had not yet arisen on the commercial horizon. It is now the barracks and recruiting depot of the Dublin Fusiliers, whose ultra-modern khaki jackets seem oddly incongruous amid their ancient surroundings. The arched piazzas, where the merchants made their bargains, and the wide openings in the outer walls on the first and second floors, which were evidently intended for the swinging of heavy bales in and out of storage lofts, still remain as marks of its original purpose. The Linen Hall was built in 1726.

To Chapter 16. To Chart Index.