The Little Book of Dublin

For Martin, a brother

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to all Dubliners who went before me, whether native born, of extraction, or by inclination, and to all who will come after me to live in this wonderful, mythical, mad place. Not forgetting Maggie, May, Rita, Alison, Rachel, Josh, Holly, Leo and Luci.

CONTENTS

Title

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Introduction

1. Famous Faces

2. Saints and Sinners

3. Folklore and Customs

4. Strange but True

5. Sports and Games

6. Leisure and Entertainment

7. Crime and Punishment

8. Buildings and Places

9. Transport, Work and Commerce

10. Battles and Wars

11. Natural History

12. Story and Page

Copyright

INTRODUCTION

‘What’s the craic?’ is a question put by Dubliners to elicit information on anything from personal wellbeing to economic prospects, both local and global. It’s up to you how you’d like to respond.

Ptolemy, the Alexandrian geographer, might have wondered what the craic was when he made mention of Dublin as a maritime city in the second century on a map he was fooling with at the time. After that, nothing much happened for about six centuries, until lads from Scandinavia were marauding about the place in their longboats and they too wondered about Dublin Bay. They saw in it a nice sheltered haven for seafarers and a sound strategic site for trade, not to mention the chance to head ashore and stretch their legs for a while.

And so it came to pass that in the ninth century the Norsemen, or Vikings, established a settlement at a deep, dark pool on the Liffey that became known as the Black Pool or Dubh Linn (Dublin). The settlement was somewhere below where Christ Church Cathedral now stands upon the hill above the modern Liffey. Not far from there someone developed a ford across part of the river that is now Church Street Bridge, or Father Matthew Bridge, or whatever you wish to call it yourself. This was known as the hurdle ford, so Dubh Linn became known as Baile Átha Cliath, the town of the hurdle ford, which name it keeps in Irish. Thus Dublin has two names, one for either tongue: great craic, as lost travellers must often have said when wondering where they were.

Ireland was not devoid of people before this; there were lots of clans about the place, and few paid any attention to these new lads. That is until they started to take prisoners and sell them off to their cousins as slaves in other countries and to chase the local maidens. Up to then, the Irish were too busy having differences of opinion among themselves to bother about the invaders and their long boats pulled up on the shore. Just to confuse matters more, as the years passed, the Norsemen married into powerful Irish clans and everyone became cousins.

Nonetheless, the Danes, as they were known as by then, were defeated in the Battle of Clontarf, near Dublin, in 1014 under the leadership of the Irish warrior king, Brian Boru. Some left Ireland after this, while some stayed and nursed their grievances with the wife’s family and said there was no craic left in Dublin anymore.

However, matters grew worse in 1170 with the appearance of the Anglo-Normans, who had invaded through Wexford the previous year and seized control of the town, sending the Norsemen north of the river to set up home at Oxmanstown, near to where the Phoenix Park is now laid out. The Normans settled in and built some nice new walls around Dublin. In the early thirteenth century they built a castle, officially securing Dublin as an English holding.

For seven centuries Dublin was to remain a seat and symbol of British authority until a successful War of Independence in the twentieth century sent the invader home to look for craic in his own country. That war had its beginnings on O’Connell Street in the heart of Dublin, in 1916, when the rebels read a proclamation of independence, and, with their few arms, defied an empire that was already at war in Europe. The ensuing battle wrecked the centre of the city when English artillery was used to dislodge the fighters.

But before that disagreement, eighteenth-century Ireland had seen peace, and improvements in agriculture. Many landlords lived in fine houses in Dublin and the city prospered, not least in the fabric of the city. New residential terraces were laid out and streets were widened to accommodate fine carriages and the commerce of a thriving city of the empire. Georgian houses and squares spread about the city with their fine facades and mews houses to the rear, which doubled as stables and carriage houses and living accommodation for staff.

Not all was wine and roses for the inhabitants of the city, however, for older clay houses were home to people of little substance, or put another way: those who had no arse in their trousers. Streets were narrow and animals wandered the streets as casually as humans; such latitude was reflected in the heavy smells that greeted a visitor, everywhere. Frequent official decrees were issued to take the animals off the streets, if you please, or the bailiffs would be free to seize such livestock as were causing nuisance and could be caught.

Nonetheless, for the wealthy, life was good and, as in modern times, property owners vied with one another to show excess in fashion and accommodation. However, Georgian glory was not to last.

Once the Irish parliament, whose home was on College Green opposite Trinity College, voted itself out of business and joined in a union with Westminster in 1800, the great Georgian houses began to empty of the rich and powerful. In the century that followed, the Georgian terraces of large-roomed houses became sub-divided by exploitative landlords and inexorably turned into slum dwellings. Not such good craic for those families of several generations trying to live with some dignity in a single room. By the mid-twentieth century some old buildings had begun to fall down from neglect, with consequent loss of life to the unfortunates living inside. The city council built housing estates in the suburbs and re-housed the most vulnerable of the city’s needy.

However, no amount of boom or bust could keep a good story or song down for long and the Irish Literary Revival of the nineteenth and twentieth century saw many artists come to the fore; mostly in the spoken or transcribed word – the art form most beloved of the Irish. Revival began with a national resurgence of interest in the Irish language and Irish culture, including folklore, sports, music and arts. It was to blossom into a flowering of great writing both for the page and the stage, arising from a strong tradition of oral storytelling, or the craic, as some would have it.

Dublin produced three Nobel Laureates in literature: Yeats, Shaw and Beckett, with James Joyce as a spare, for he was not awarded a prize at all, even though Becket had worked with Joyce for a while. Seamus Heaney, the poet from Derry, another Nobel Laureate, lived by the sea in Sandymount, Dublin Bay in his final years.

The Man Booker literary prize was won by Iris Murdoch from Phibsborough (1978), Roddy Doyle (1993), John Banville (2005) and Anne Enright (2007): all Dubliners. Dublin also produced great playwrights: Seán O’Casey, Brendan Behan, George Bernard Shaw, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, John Millington Synge, Oscar Wilde, William Butler Yeats, Hugh Leonard, Bernard Farrell, Peter Sheridan, Jim Sheridan, Sebastian Barry and many more.

In 2010, it became a UNESCO City of Literature and now has so many festivals that you are never far from the next one. In music, Dublin has hosted the Eurovision song contest, on six occasions. The city also introduced Riverdance to the world, as the 1994 Eurovision Song Contest interval act. The winners that year were Dubliner Paul Harrington and Donegal man Charlie McGettigan, with Rock ’n’ Roll Kids. Lots of craic ensued, as everyone knows.

Dublin saw an influx of new invaders after the EU enlarged itself in 2004, when Ireland held the EU Presidency and all the EU leaders gathered in Farmleigh beside Phoenix Park for the craic. The new invaders were people coming for a better life. Some stayed, some went home again; many others took citizenship and their children now sport Dublin accents. No matter the colour of their skin or their features, for the new Irish all know what the craic is in Dublin. And in Dublin that is all that matters.

Dublin has a seaside to enjoy and a national park – Phoenix Park – that is the biggest walled park in Europe, bigger than Central Park and certainly bigger than any park in London. Dublin has mountains in its southern suburbs and flat farmland to the west and north, not forgetting a pair of canals encircling the city.

On weekend nights, streets in Temple Bar are alive with people searching for craic and wandering from place to place enjoying traditional Dublin food, music and Irish dancing. Or just telling stories. Nightclubs supply a concoction of sounds to satisfy all ears. Dublin has many dedicated gay venues and accommodation in the city centre, located on a strip from Capel Street, north of the river, to George’s Street on the south, via Parliament Street and Temple Bar.

The Globalization and World Cities Research Network ranks Dublin among the top thirty cities in the world. But Dubliners knew that already.

Dublin is at once a modern centre of education, the arts, administration, economy and industry. It is a city where its people know the value of everything and the enjoyment that is to be had in their city of choice. Ptolemy knew that, as did the Vikings and the Normans and all those who came for the craic and stayed for the life that is Dublin.

Enjoy.

Brendan Nolan

www.irishfolktales.com

1

FAMOUS FACES

SWIFT EATING CHILDREN

Jonathan Swift wrote Gulliver’s Travels as a political satire of his time. However, children took it at face value and it has been a classic of children’s literature ever since. Swift, in similar vein, also wrote A Modest Proposal in which he put forward a plan to cannibalise children for profit and as an alternative way of dealing with starvation in Ireland. Suffice it to say, this plan has not been proceeded with, yet.

Swift was born in Hoey’s Court a few weeks before Christmas of 1667. As an adult, Swift moved to England to work as secretary first for Sir William Temple and then the Earl of Berkeley but in 1713 he accepted a position at the Deanery of St Patrick’s. On the eve of his departure for Dublin, Vanessa, who had studied with him and was then aged 23, confessed her love for him. Swift was surprised but it seems unmoved at her declaration for he returned home to Dublin without her.

A few years later, Vanessa and her sister took up residence at Celbridge, near Dublin. By now, Swift was paying attention to Esther Johnston, whom he nicknamed Stella, to whom, some say, he was secretly married in 1716. However, it is also said that he tired of Stella and cast his eyes upon his former student Vanessa instead, which caused disruptions. Vanessa, hearing rumours about Stella, wrote to her to inquire the nature of her claims upon the good dean. Stella showed the letter to Swift, who rode out to Celbridge to see Vanessa. He flung her letter to Stella on the table and walked out of the house without a word, bitter or sweet. Three weeks later, Vanessa died of a broken heart aged 37, which was a bit extreme, some say.

Jonathan Swift was Dean of St Patrick’s Cathedral from 1713 until his death in 1745 at the age of 77, which was very old for that time. The cathedral has in its possession early editions of his writings, a pair of his death masks, though he died only once, and a cast of the good man’s skull.

Swift was troubled by imbalance and noises in his ears in later years. Together with a stroke in 1742, his condition led many to declare him mad. However, 90 years after he died, Swift’s body was exhumed and examined by Oscar Wilde’s father, Sir William Wilde, a prominent physician. He discovered that Swift had a loose bone in his inner ear, and this is what had been at the root of many of the dead man’s problems.

Coincidentally, Swift left money in his will