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East is East, and West is West, Dun Laoghaire’s magic piers. Part 1.

Another in the current orgy, of seaside-related posts.  I can not help it.  It is summer after all.  And it was A Spectacular day today, blazing with sunshine.  Very un-Irish, although we appreciate it more than anyone else in the world, and the town and country alike always look their beautiful best.

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Yes, sunshine.  Was bathing in the stuff, literally, in my little city-centre garden.   Nursing the effects on too much Saturday night hospitality, at Stinging Fly’s nice birthday bash the previous night in the Clarence Hotel, during Dublin’s Writers Festival.  (Music by Larry Beau and other contemporary greats)    I was happy enough in my garden, until the call of family came, and a Sunday walk with my mother beckoned,  down Dun Laoghaire’s piers.

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I put away the sun lounger and the FT, and hopped in the trusty steed.

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We met here, at this rather excellent garden centre, cramped with beautiful well tended plants and flowers and herbs, and all maner of delicious garden accessories.    Oh all right, My innate sense of personal probity dictates I’dhad better declare an interest here.  Admittedly it is owned by two of my very closest and dearest friends.   But dammit, I make no apologies for saying it’s still surely the best garden centre in the city.

From there we went down the West pier, popular with walkers, but often not as crowded as the East pier.

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Look at the masonry, built to last a thousand years.   And those wonderful rings of concentric circles that surround the sturdy little light house.    It is supposed to be practical, nautical and hardy.  Did they have to make it so beautiful I wonder, or is that just an irresistible human urge?

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The door of the lighthouse has always been green, for Starboard of course,  as opposed to Red = Port.  You can see the red (port) light house on the East pier, in the distance here below.  We shall be walking this pier too soon, in our next post.

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I love every bit of cut stone in this place. Dun Laoghaire is the town I grew up in.  These great, giant granite piers formed the view from my teenaged bedroom.  We had a large, rather ramshackle but lovely old house, set on the gentle hill that rises up from the sea, high above the town centre.  We were exceptionally lucky, in that there was a large football pitch across the road from the house, so it enjoyed uninterrupted views,  down across the town and far out to sea, not just over Dun Laoghaire harbour, but on clear days, out as far as Sandycove on one side,  to the East and South;  and Howth Head the other direction, to the NW.    Well, I say lucky, I’m sure that was the reason my mother bought the place. But we were lucky nonetheless of course.

I don’t think I ever had curtains or blinds,  so the light from at least 5 or 6 different light houses and light markers used to sweep and rake across the walls of the room at night, light from the two at the end of our local piers, to the far more distant Bailey on Howth Head, the Burford bank more directly out East, and the even more remote but powerful Kish light. It has been many years since my mother sold the place, and I hadn’t thought about those nightly beams of light, until very recently.  Life is full and rushing forward, and one always tries look forward anyway, not back.   But I am sure such things leave their own form of imprint.

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map of main Dublin Bat light houses, courtesy of the Sailing in Your Footsteps website.

My cousin Donald Henderson, who just died some weeks ago, worked for the Irish Lights Commission all his life, manning the ships that serviced the light houses.  He was decorated once, for aiding a man who was cut down on deck during a vicious storm, risking his life to save he man.   Rest in Peace Donald.   His father, my great Uncle David Henderson, was a captain in the Irish merchant marine.  He was torpedoed twice in one night once, escorting convoys across the Atlantic during the Second World War.  When i was a nipper my parents used to sail, Fireballs mostly,  out of the SC in Greystones, then later the National, in Dun Laoghaire, as i later did myself in dinghies like Mirrors and Optimists.  After a long absence, I’m doing a bit more sailing again these days.  (Mike, if you are reading this, can we get White Morning down the Med, please?)   Either way, it’s safe to say i like the sea.

Anyway, excuse the rambling digressions.   (That’s probably too much sun for you, and this nice glass of Powers here )   On to the East Pier, more popular, but no less lovely for it.

Even the walk from West to East pier is a pleasure, below we see the Town Hall; and lower, the rather awkward but well-meaning plaza (ghastly word) outside the new ferry terminal.

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This terminal by the way, is currently hosting an exhibition called Endurance, about the famous ship of that name, captained by the great Edwardian-era Ernest Shackleton, which set out just before WWI, an event the crew, stranded at the extreme end of the world, were blissfully unaware of !    Most Irish people know a good bit about this trip.   Tom Creen, the west Kerry man is a re-discovered hero, and  Shakleton was a Kildare man.  Sure, wasn’t his brother suspected –  (rightly or wrongly, I can never remember)  of stealing the Crown Jewels out of Dublin Castle?

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Anyway, the expedition E.S.  led to Antartica, the so-called Trans-Polar expedition, which was meant to transverse the South Pole by foot, sled and dog, but they got trapped, with the ship crushed in the ice and never got anywhere near the Pole.   Yet they turned so-called failure into epic triumph, Shakleton getting all his men back alive after God knows how many years and months and hardships.   I know the story well enough, but mean to go to this exhibition soon before it closes.  For one thing, if the photographs are what I think they are,  they will be amazing, The most famous images of this legendary  1914-1916 voyage  were taken by the expedition photographer,  the brilliant New Zealander,  Frank Hurley.

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Frank Hurley Endurance photos, courtesy Wikipedia.

Anyway, I digress again.  In fact to hell with it, I am going to digress once more, to pay a little visit to this sea-side memorial, commemorating the visit of some vapid royal, in pre-Independence times.  But it is nice.   Look at this…

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Gets even better up close.   Look, for example, at this prancing horse, erm.. motif..

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It even has owls.   Yes, owls.   I could tell you a story about those owls, but I won’t.   But is this memorial a thing of beauty, or unforgivable kitch?    Perhaps we should leave a full and frank discussion of all that, and indeed part II of our tour of the piers, for another day.

In next post’s exciting installment, we shall walk the East pier, home of bandstands, weather stations, Beckett memoria, and much, much more.  (I should have been an advertising copywriter, no?)

In the meanwhile, I leave you with this, almost Byzantine image.   Good night.

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Exciting times… and a new start.

It has been the maddest few weeks of work for a very long time…

For many years now I have run cultural programs for schools and colleges, or led one-off tours for schools and language schools, of history or art history, around the city of Dublin.  Sometimes I take them to the National Museum, or the Natural History Museum  (see my post on this magical place from a few months back)  or to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral here in Dublin, to teach them about Irish History, (more posts on this if you look)

Or – best of all – to the National Gallery to teach students about how to Read a Painting, about the sign language of old art and the symbols of saints and so on;  about how to begin to de-construct a painting, about the older conventions of depiction, and traditional ways that artists and painters built and constructed meaning within their work, through light, gesture, compositional tricks, through allegory, saintly attributes, symbols and iconography.

Now I’m striking out on my own, with my own little start-up business, lunching, no wait, launching a little start up tour business, Dublin Decoded   http://dublindecoded.com/

We will aim to give the art, artefacts of Dublin real depth in terms of understanding the history and meaning, making history and art history more in depth, accessible and alive.

The last few weeks have all been about mastering the new website, designing flyers, working with designers, and learning a million other things.  The site only really went live today.   And now I can not wait.   Please join us if you get the chance, and/or if you know people who might be interested or people who are coming to Dublin, please spread the word.     Thank you.

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Plaques, gargoyles and granite shop fronts.

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Some snaps and details from a recent walking tour (April 13th) with architectural historian & expert in 18th Century Dublin shops, Sarah Foster.  Unfortunately the day was a cold and grey, so forgive the dull light.  Some of these details (like the gargoyle above) Sarah pointed out, in a few other cases I wandered off the route to snap things that just caught my eye.  These pictures are in no particular order, they do not reflect the route of the tour, a tour short in distance but fascinating on history & detail.  It took place, incidentally, right in the centre, from the steps of Royal Exchange, (figure 2, below)

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Then we crossed Dame St to Parliament St.,  just across the road, to view the oldest, surviving shop in Dublin:  Thomas Read & Co; Cutlers. (below)

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This wonderful old place is sadly closed these last 13+ years or more, and part of the old premises were turned into a pub.  Yett the main old shop interior, with its Chippendale style cabinet work and outfitting are all still mercifully intact, (albeit currently inaccessible)

I hope to post about the tour in more detail soon. In the meanwhile, enjoy the pictures.

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From outsides’ old Reads shop we simply went down Dame Street, were we saw this nice gargoyle-  if “nice” is a word one is allowed use about Gargoyles,  (probably a grievous insult in the gargoyle world, sub-culture, where being scary and menacing is all the rage)

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Anyway..  here’s another plaque (see below).  Look carefully, see the ship?  There is an extraordinary story, stories in fact, behind the ship in this plaque, but that’s all for another day.

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Dame Street alas, is increasingly disfigured with plastic signs, junk food, and tourist shops, (& usually clogged with busses & heavy traffic)

Did you know all the exteriors on Dame Street, and indeed on Westmoreland St and D’olier St, used to look like this?  (below)

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This is one, the only small surviving section (this is on D’Olier st)  ButDame Street used to look just the same,  Unfortuneately, nearly all of these old granite classical facades on  have gone.  As far as we know there is just one, single survivor left on Dame Street.   Has it been honoured, lovingly tended, treasured and revered?   Of course not!   This is Dublin.    Sadly it looks like this! (below)

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Lovely, eh?

let’s just have one more look again at the alternative, (below again) by way of comparison.  Admittedly this was an office building, not shops.  It used to be the premises of the Irish Times (newspaper) who had the resources and the wit to pay for the restoration.  They have now moved to nearby Tara St, but they did Dublin a signal service.

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All the heavy traffic & plastic tat im the modern city centre, is pretty grubby & depressing.   It is especially bad on Westmoreland St, and Dame St is getting not much better.  We should have strict laws about the type of signage traders are allowed use, and what materials, as they have in the historic areas of French & Italian cities.   But I won’t hold my breath.

Yet, even now, despite so much destruction, amid all the traffic & plastic tata,  on Dame St, on those occasions when one can look upwards, the street is still full of wonderful architecture, decor & detailing.

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We went down Dame St, as it changes into College Green, in front of ront Gate of Trinity College.  then around the corner of the enormous old Parliament Building here, (detail from Parliament Building below)

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We were now onto Westmoreland St.   I was totally unaware that Henry Aron Baker (collaborator on the Kings Inns, and the pupil of, and de facto successor to, the great James Gandon) was at one point once commissioned by the Bank Of Ireland,  to build an enormous bank headquarters on this spot, occupying, it’s believed, the entire triangle.  This would have been truly spectacular, in both size and style.  But it was not to be.  In 1801, the Act of Union meant the Irish Parliament vacated their home on College Green and moved to London,  at which point the Bank of Ireland moved into the old (and magnificent) Parliament building.   In the end, the plots on the east side of Westmoreland St were developed in smaller, separate lots.

Nonetheless, there are many fine buildings here.  As Sarah pointed out, this was the headquarters of many of Dublin’s insurance firms.  Much like the many bank headquarters around the corner back on Dame Street, such clients tend to invest in high quality, prestige design.  So many of the buildings here, above ghastly street level, are of very high quality.   Since many of the insurance firms hailed from Edinburgh or Glasgow, there is a noticeable preference for the Victorian Revival style, notably in the Scottish Baronial idiom!

WhereWestmoreland St meets the edge of O’Connells St Bridge (southside) we hair-pinned around and went back up the other side of the triangle, up D’Olier St.   That’s where Sarah pointed out the last remaining granite facades.  We also had another look at the back of the marvelous old Gas Company Headquarters  (below)

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all completely bogus and pastiche of course, Victorian revival Tudor (very rare in Dublin, but if you know Liberties shop in London….)  but very good of its kind.  As Dubliners know, the front of this building, back on Westmoreland St, is completely different, a very cool art deco classic (below)

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Since this type of Art Deco is also pretty rare in Dublin, I reckon thats a double score for the gas company)  Here,back again on the mock Tudor sid,. is a 1820s plaque from the old firm,   (below)

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We also took a good look at the amazingly richly decoration of the old D’olier Chambers, that occupies the last plot on the street.  (detail below)

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We finished near old Screen cinema,by Pearse St. Gardaí station. (that’s our police for overseas readers)   The same building goes back to the old days of the Royal Irish Constabulary and the Dublin Metropolitan Police.  Unable to resist here showing you one last pair of  decoration,  familiar to all Dubliners, the terrific carved policemans heads from the exterior of the police station.

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That’s it for now.  Hope you all enjoyed.  Comments & observations welcome as always.   Thank you for reading.     - Arran.

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From the Granite to the Pebbles | Arran’s best 3- harbour walk.

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The last post was an epic, annotated list on the best sights & visits in Dublin.  At the end is appended a few of my favorite coastal walks outside the city.  Today, just a bit more detail on my favorite South side walk, from Dun Laoghaire to the end of Killiney beach, specifically the best route, via Sandycove, the 40 Foot, Bullock Harbour, Dalkey’s Collimore Road and Sorrento Terrace, and ending down on the sand and pebbles of Killiney Beach.

Route:  start at Dun Laoghaire, turn left as you leave the Dart station, and walk down the East Pier.  There are lots of lovely details to enjoy, such as an old weather station, and a old wrought-iron Victorian bandstand, and the many boats bobbing up and down in the harbour, from sleek yachts to tiny dinghys.  The pier is mostly built and faced in wonderful granite, which glows a beautiful warm gold in direct sun.Image

at the end of the pier is a delightful little cluster of buildings: a high protective wall, the lighthouse, old maintenance buildings from the Admiralty or Irish lights commission, and the squat little lighthouse keeper’s cottage.

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I can not tell you how much pleasure i get from this whole… ensemble.  The high granite wall makes it look a bit like a castle on the sea, or a crusader fort or something.  I grew up in Dun Laoghaire, and always wanted to live here.

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Next we return back along the pier, obviously.  (Not much choice really, unless one is an exceptionally strong swimmer)  and then turn left for Sandycove.   Stick to the walking path that runs directly over the sea.

As you walk, you can already see the Martello tower at Sandycove, built during the Napoleonic Wars, but made immortal by James Joyce through his famous opening lines of  Ulysses. –   

“Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.” 

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In this picture above you can see another delightful cluster of buildings, this time at Sandycove.   First the Martello Tower already mentioned, the setting for the quotation from Ulysses above.   The protagonist character in these early sections, is the young Stephen Daedulus,  who was in turn the fictional alter ego of the, real-life young James Joyce.   When a young man, Joyce briefly shared this unusual home with his friend, the poet and surgeon Oliver StJohn Gogarty.  (The tower was no longer in cative use & Gogarty had,I believe, arranged to rent it from the admiralty)   Then just after the tower,  you see a  lovely traditional-style, white house in the middle.   After that comes another white house, this time far more modren, that looks a bit like a white tower or the prow of ship.  This is a small masterpiece called “Geragh”  It was designed by the Irish modernist architect Michael Scott, whose home it also was.

Just beyond all this, the path rises, and beyond that,  (just out of sight in this picture)  this path leads to the famous 40-Foot Bathing place.   Even in my lifetime, it used to be reserved (unofficially, but alas very effectively)  for the exclusive use of men.   But thanks to some brave women who took the plunge (including some in the nip!)  the 40 Foot is now open to everyone.

The curious name by the way does not mean the swimming place is “40 Foot deep”.    It comes instead from a regiment or military company previously based here:  ”the 40th regiment of Foot”    -(Foot of course meaning Infantry).    In the summer  i try to come and swim here at least a few times a month,  often with friends,often with my mum or sister, (in a insane family ritual).  More rarely I’ll swim in winter.  There is a strong local tradition of doing so on Christmas day!  Look again the picture above, with the blue sky but also lots of snow and ice.  This was Christmas time2-3 years back, & my sister & I swam this same day, .    I can not even begin to describe how cold it was.  The air temperature and the sea were bad enough, but what really stays is the feeling, then the numbness of icy concrete under our bare feet.  There was a record breaking cold snap at the time, for weeks at that stage, so the ground temperature was down in deep, deep, minus-figures.  We were lucky not to loose some toes.

After the 40 Foot,  do not double-back, just keep walking along the sea, it’s easy and baring total disorientation, youreally can not  get lost.   Just remember that allowing for local variations we are walking in a general south or south east direction the whole time and so we always want the sea on our left, whether you can see it or not!   From the 40 foot just keep along the sea, and you’ll find that you have to turn right, then left again out onto the “main road”.  (with cars)      Then walk for about 1/2 a mile, nearly 1 Kilometre, but it’s all very nice.  You’lll pass lots of stucco terraces on your left and more tall, handsome, this time redbrick houses on your ight.  Most of both were built in19th century but  in the fine “Georgian” style.

But soon you’ll get to an unusual large white house on your left,  on a cornersite and some of the windows hang out in bay.   The road to the left here slopes steeply twisting down to the sea.  Take this turn, (leave the main road) and follow this road down back to the sea.  Almost straight away as the road turns you’ll see Bullock Harbour right in front of you, with its small piers, fishing cottages, wooden row boats (you can rent these in summer, for mackerel fishing in season)   You may also see the occasional visitor, a fat contented seal, looking out for scraps of thrown-away fish.

Keep following our road, it goes uphill again. past modern appartments and past one or two nice houses, on the left especially.  Walk until you get to a junction and there,  keep straight until you walk into Dalkey Village.

Well done, you’ve made it this far. You may want to stop for a coffee or snack. You could try”Select Stores”   I am not a shareholder,  (promise!)  in fact I don’t even know the owners, I just always enjoy the food.  The humous & falafel wraps with fresh salad are delicious.   The coffees and juices too.

Next, after refreshments,  find the start of Collimore Road, it’s very near, (ask a local)  and walk along it, once again with the sea on your left.  Lots more fantastic houses here, right on the sea, and nice views over to Dalkey Island.   You’ll also find our third harbour here, Collimore harbour, which is my favourite in a way.  (i used to snorkel and even kayak around here a bit)

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lovely picture, by photographer Ian Gremmel, of Coliemore Harbour, (all rights reserved.)  Via de Vere’s art auctioneers site. I am attempting to contact artist for permission. 

Nearby, on the sort of platform or terrace that overlooks the harbour, (the terace is above the harbour, so top left of this picture) you’ll find a pair of heavy duty high-power telescopic binoculars fixed to a steel base.  Most of these devices you have to pay for, by dropping in a coin. But this one is free.  Because, my sister told me recently, it’s a memorial to a man who lived near here.  It was bought and installed here by his friends as a tribute to his memory.  It is a wonderful, generous gesture, a gift to us all.  Low-key, thoughtful, and endlessly useful.  ”The gift that keeps on giving” as a friend of mine likes to say.    Very classy of the man’s friends, and far more imaginative than a statue or a plaque.

Anyway, that ‘s enough digression, (or pontificating).   Just keep walking to the very end of Collimore Road, and you find yourself facing an even more lovely set of of houses.  This is a wonderful place called Sorrento Terrace.  They possibly have the best physical setting of any houses in Dublin.  To see what I mean just turn right and walk a further up the road, now called the Vico Road, with the sea on your left agin far below you now,  then after 5 minutes look back.  (see the picture below)  look back toward Sorrento Terrace.   There. Look at them.   Wouldn’t that be a nice place to live?

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above, Sorrento Terrace, seen from above the Vico Road and/or Killiney beach.  Beyond Sorrento Terrace you can see two island, the larger is dalkey Island, with its ruins and an (another) old Martello Tower.   The identity of the man paragliding is unknown to me, alas.   (Image from Wikipedia.)   

The Vico is the long uphill road  (up-hill in this direction at least)  that runs along the coast here,  above the long sweep of Killiney beach. (below you and to your left)   The road is studded with nice houses.  A favourite passtime of mine when young was debating with friends which we would buy.   On the other side, the wooded slopes of KIlliney Hill rise above you to the right.

So, in other words, from the Vico road you have three or four alternatives.   If you are serious, reasonably fit walker you may now even wish to open up Google maps to consider your options.   First,  you can walk up the whole way to tiny Killiney “village”  (more of a hamlet really, just as shop and a pub) to enter Killiney Hill/Victoria Hill park there, and walk up to the obelisk.   Or you can go straight up the side of the same hill to the obelisk directly from here on the Vico road,  using one of the tiny right-of -way paths or tracks.  (Just look out for the tiny gates, almost hidden in the old green railings. )

Or you can go the other way, down,  downwards to the sand and shingle of Killiney beach.  (In fact you can walk the whole way to Shankill along the beach)

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above,  down on Killiney beach, below the Vico Road, (Sorrento Terrace in the far distance). 

Finally, if you’re feeling tired by now, you have another, last choice.  You can about face,  and simply walk back to Dalkey, turning left at Sorrento Road.  (not via Sorrento Terrace and Colliemore Road, now very much the long way)   Have a pint in one of the nice pubs back in Dalkey.  Finnegan’s pub, on the corner where Sorrento Road meets Dalkey Village, is my own, traditional favourite.  (although the under-35s may prefer the Club or Queens.)    Then later have a bag of chips, from Borza’s fish & chip shop,   (which i always mistakenly call Borgia’s !)   Later you can walk to Dalkey train station and get the last Dart home.    (Just don’t miss the last train, a taxi back to the city will cost you a fortune.)                                       There you go-  a perfect, perfect day out.

That’s it for today.

If you’re ever looking for a coast walk on the other side of the city,  my Northside favourite,  the Howth peninsula, and the best route round it, is covered in a previous post: From Sea to Shining Sea.  You’ll find it by that title in the archives.

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Arran’s Top Dublin Sights & Visits.

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This post is for all visitors and inspired by my students.  They often tell me they find it hard to get good information on the interesting places to see here.  This sounds a bit unlikely at first. With Ireland’s long established tourism, you’d imagine we’re bursting at the seams with reliable, objective lists and maps, of things to do and places to visit, no?

Unfortunately, long-established doesn’t always mean highly- evolved.   On closer inspection, much of the promotional literature aimed at visitors is commercial; advertising in effect, usually single-focus too, as it tries to get people into (often paying into) one particular sight.

In an environment like that: he who shouts the loudest wins.  That’s a recipe for disaster, and for disappointed visitors.   The “Shout-Loudest” principal must also explain why, for many years here recently, the number-one visitor attraction in terms of numbers, has been the Guinness Storehouse. (!)

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I’ve nothing in particular against the Storehouse. I could be scathing on the way it funnels its visitors around in herds, like sheep in a pen. I could describe it as a tasteless celebration of alcohol, a sad stag and hen party cliché, and a trap for the unwary, hapless and exploited tourist.

If one was feeling super-critical, one could even lambast the place as a vulgar jamboree of loud, tactless, in-your-face marketing, masquerading as a giant, fake “museum”.  vBut we won’t.  In fact the Storehouse is a typical 21st century interactive “visitor-experience”.   In that context, it’s well-designed, reasonably interesting, and perfectly valid fare for a couple of hours light entertainment.

It’s also in an absolutely fabulous building, (see above)  and in fairness it even contains a few good nuggets.  Of graphic design for example (via the history of their advertising, which was of an exceptional standard)   Or of Industrial History; and indeed of the social history of this city too.

But is it really, really, the number-one interesting place to visit in Dublin?   Not even close.

No, there are far better ways to spend your time & cash.  Below are my best city sights, especially for lovers of architecture and of history  But first, a few disclaimers…   Firstly, you’ll probably know of at least some of these places already. But since the aim is to compile a quick, one-stop list for all, please bear with that.

Second,  in the same way, any Irish readers, (especially Dublin readers,) who might have accidentally strayed here will find our great institutions, the ones we all grew up with.  There’s little or no “hidden Dublin” in this post.  You’ll have to look elsewhere in this blog for that.

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Third, perhaps obvious, the list is personal.  So, as regular readers know, the focus of this blog is reading history through historic buildings and applied arts.  So choices and recommendations are informed by that.  You won’t find any views on best pubs/pint/steak in-town.  :)

One last, last, final, note.  Students and overseas visitors are often dismayed that many older historic churches and cathedrals here in Dublin charge admission fees.  I can understand that.  Nothing so (seemingly) vulgar happens in France or Italy, for example.

However, please bear in mind that old churches in Dublin are mostly Anglican since the Reformation of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I.  (All churches were Catholic churches prior to the Reformation, obviously)    There are today very few Anglican worshippers left,  to maintain these churches.   Plus they also get no financial help from Government or state.  Now does the admission charge make sense?  You can console yourself with the thoughtyour ticket money will save historic churches.   Also with the thought that,  although the churches and cathedrals do charge;  our wonderful museums do not.  They’re completely free.  (Unlike museums in France or Italy, which charge hefty admission fees.)  So your outlay will all balance out in the end!  (Plus your ticket money will save historic churches.)

Okay, that’s more than enough disclaimers and qualifications. Without further ado, here are Dublin’s most rewarding Sights and Places to Visit…

The Old Parliament on College Green  Just outside the Front Gate of Trinity on College Green, this spectacular 18th century Neo-Classical building with its wonderful colonnade, is now a bank but (until the Act of Union in 1801) was the Irish Parliament, complete with House of Commons and House of Lords.

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The former chamber is now gone but you can still see the House of Lords (open until around 3.30 or 4pm each day). Visit and look for the enormous, obnoxiously triumphalist Boyne and Derry Tapestries. (You can hardly miss them.) They relate 2 scenes from the late 17th century Williamite war, the war that ended hopes for the Stuart dynasty and which sealed Protestant supremacy in Ireland for the next 120 years.  The building as a whole was designed by a succession of superb architects, including Edward Lovittt Pearse, and the incomparable James Gandon.  It is also reckoned to be one of the largest buildings anywhere without windows.  All the interior illumination comes from the skylights above, well out of sight from street level, leaving the façade free for a procession of blind arches and that massive sweep of colonnades.

Christ Church Cathedral and Saint Patrick’s Cathedral are, jointly probably the best places to learn about Irish history.  The medieval Christ Church was founded first, around 1028.  Saint Patrick’s followed, according to interpretation of history and various charters, around 1190-1215. Christ Church cathedral should have been “enough” but, for political reasons too complex to narrate here, St Patrick followed less than one hundred years later and scarcely half a kilometer part.  (You can find the long, full, convoluted story, in the Origins of St Patrick’s post, elsewhere in this blog)  This change of course gave Dublin two cathedrals, a unique and unprecedented development for any city in the world.  Both Cathedrals were heavily restored in the 19th century but both still remain full of ancient historic sights and treasures. To summarize these highlights briefly….

Christ Church  has many wonderful details, including a tomb purporting to be that of Strongbow, the Norman baron who conquered Dublin from the Norse-Irish inhabitants and ushered in the Anglo-Norman conquest (and thus 800 hundreds years of British rule in Ireland.)  The highlight of Christ Church cathedral however are probably the enormous crypts.  Look out there for the life-sized statues of two Stuart Kings, (generally reckoned to be Charles II & James II)   and the famous, mummified “the Cat and the Mouse”- two animals, caught, suspended in space by a freak accident a long ago, and now frozen in time.

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above: model of Christ Church. 

Saint Patrick’s Cathedral  by contrast, has no crypts (the ground here is too marshy)  But it has stood since the 12th century and is a treasure trove of wonderful tombs and memorial sculpture.  Look out for Dean Swift, author of Gulliver’s Travels; the tomb of the Duke of Schomberg, a Dutch field marshal who fought for William III I in the wars mentioned previously above in the House of Lords.   If you come early you can explore the cathedral fully.  If you are here later, then hang around for evensong at 5.30 when the choir sings from the lovely old wooden choir stalls most evenings, under the fabulously romantic banners and coats of arms.  If you would like to do a history tur of the cathedral, using the artefacts as a way of examining Irish history, you could consider coming on one of my new tours.  If you are interested,  please see
http://dublindecoded.com/how-to-read-a-cathedral/

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Saint Audoen’s Church   A modest-looking little church but very ancient,  and full of lovely low-key details.    In fact,  Saint Audoen’s is the oldest continuously-operating parish church in Dublin.  There was an old Celtic-era church here from the 7th century, then the current, Anglo-Norman foundation from 1190.  (Ouen was a bishop and Saint from Normandy.   See my post about this place under “the Portlester Memorial” in archives or “top posts”)  As I say, this looks a modest place, but it is not to be missed by any fan of medieval history.  It has aa ruined chapel, the Portlester memorial and other gorgeous commemorative sculpture.  Best of all perhaps, it also boasts a fine, small but informative museum of the medieval city, very modest and un-flashy and low-key, yet still far preferable, in my humble view to the, admittedly- educational but slightly cack-handed “Dublinia” experience,  also available nearby.

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commemorative sculpture, Saint Audoen’s church. photo credit Con O’Donneghue.

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the Portlester memorial, Saint Audoen’s church. photo credit Con O’Donneghue.

If the two cathedrals, and St Audoen’s Church are the best places to learn about Irish and Dublin History from the medieval & renaissance times to the 17th century, then our next few proposed visits are the best to take up the Irish story a bit later, from the 18th century to Irish independence in the early 20th century.

Kilmanham Gaol.   Almost every Irish political leader, rebel and patriot, from 1789 through to closure after1922 was imprisoned here, from Woolf Tone; Robert Emmet, Daniel O’Connell; Charles Stuart Parnell; to Patrick Pearse; James Connelly and Eamonn de Valera.  For Irish people that is almost the entire pantheon of hers. Many of them were executed here also.  You cannot wander around this shrine to Irish nationhood but must take a tour, but that is no hardship as the tours and guides are excellent, highly informative, with stories tragic and entertaining by turn.  Kilmanham is an absolute “must-do”- for anyone with even a scintilla of interest in Irish history.  For the architecturally or design minded, on the second half of your tour you can also see one of the world’s best examples of a “Panoptigon”- a built architectural expression on the concept of an all-seeing eye: an ideal building for prison guards!

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above:  the later, 19th century, part of Kilmanham Gaol, with the distinctive Panoptigon.  Photograph by Lisa Hafey (all rights reserved).  

Kilmanham Hospital- IMMA:   Formerly a military hospital – modeled on Les Invalides of Paris- for retired and injured Irish soldiers, this complex of buildings boasts a large central quadrangle and spectacular Baroque chapel. It is now the Irish Museum of Modern Art, IMMA for short.  Obviously this trip is a natural morning/afternoon combination with Kilmaham Gaol nearby.   If you are seeking lunch in the interval, the food in the IMMA café is probably better than anywhere else locally.   There are both permanent and temporary/rotating exhibitions of 20th century and contemporary art on display.  Don’t forget to visit the lovely formal gardens, sunken between its old stone walls, and laid out in the manner of the 17th century Enlightenment garden, all lined with neat box hedges.  It is a delight.

Glasnevin Cemetery (picture below) Once again, a terrific place to learn history.  Unusually, this is also one of the few places that I’d wholeheartedly recommend taking the guided tour; they are generally excellent in quality and you’ll hear stories on every aspect of the cemetery from grave robbers and cholera epidemics, to rebels and revolutions.  Many of the great Irish leaders mentioned above are interred here.  Daniel O’Connell’s monument is the most spectacular of all. (See my post on him, and it, in “archives” if you wish).  Again, you really should avail of the tour on offer, there are literally dozens of wonderful stories to hear.

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St Michan’s Church:  Small and unspectacular to look at but stuffed with secrets.  An old organ that may have been used by Handle himself, the coffin of a notorious “Bad Earl”, the remains of the doomed and betrayed 1798 United Irishmen revolutionaries John and Edward Sheares.  Oh, and mummies.  Yes, mummies, like in Egypt.  Mummified bodies, miraculously preserved here in the crypts.  What more could you possibly want?

The National Museum:  (archeology.)  Kildare St. D2.  Many great things to see:  including treasures of Irelands Bronze Age; precious Gold relics; a head with three faces, or the Gigantic dug out canoe!  But make sure you don’t miss the sinister, but incredible “bog bodies” the dead, corpses of murdered or ritually killed men, possibly local chieftains or kings, all preserved in the low level acid of Irish bogs.

The National Gallery (Art) Merion Square and current entrance on Clare St.  both D2. Unfortunately 8o% of the gallery is undergoing restoration at present and so most of it is closed up for building work.   But even in the few rooms still open you can view wonderful paintings by Vermeer, Picasso, Caravaggio, and other masters.  My own personal favorite are the two companion paintings of a man and woman, respectively writing and reading a letter,  by the 17th century Dutch virtuoso Gabriel Metsu.

Incidentally, it is a source of endless sadness to me that the average amount of time spent in front of a painting in major museums (including the Uffizi and the Louvre)   is now between 6 and 8 seconds.  Additionally, many visitors seek the security of reading the little information notices beside the pictures, instead of attempting to “read” the paintings themselves.  So, I decided to do something about it.  I now run about 3 or 4 workshops a month, generally 2 on a Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon, and a further 2 on Thursday evenings, (6-8pm) which provide an introduction on How to Read a Painting. We look at symbols, both religious and classical, including the identifying “attributes” of saints,  and the use of everything from light to landscape to gesture, in the construction of meaning in historic paintings.   If you are interested, please see How to Read a Painting in the National Gallery, Dublin for more information and for schedules.   And if you are in a group, remember you can often book your own tour with me.

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above: painting by Vermeer, National Gallery of Ireland. 

Natural History Museum.   Merion Square.  (Animals, Birds and other natural specimens, pictured below)   This -famously-   is something of a museum “that should be in a museum”,  in other words, largely untouched by modern nonsense and thus  delightfully old-fashioned Victorian in both style and spirit.    See my post on The Natural History Museum Dublin, Dead Zoo for more information and pictures to give a taste of this melancholy but magical place

Or, if you want something special, see instead my little tale of how one of the quieter highlights of the Natural History Museum Dublin,  the wonderful Barrington Bird Collection, was researched & assembled by the 19th century Irish Naturalist,  JM Barrington.

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National Library: Kildare St. D2.   Its almost worth doing some research so you can apply for a readers ticket, so you can sit in the huge reading room, with the smell of old wood and leather books.

The National Museum: at Collins barracks. (D7- northwest city centre, on the Luas Line)  This is an annex of the old national Museum on Kildare St. but at Collins Barracks all the emphasis is on applied art and design like clocks, silver, costume, textiles, furniture  and so on.   It’s well worth a visit to experience the building alone, with its huge marching ground, this was once the biggest purpose built army barrack in the world.

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But the exhibits and exhibitions at Collins Barracks are also great.  There is more than one museum here in fact.  So if you really look around, you’ll find there’s something for everyone.   See just below…

The Military Museum. at Collins barracks.  The story of Ireland’s soldiers, at home and abroad.

The Asgard: at Collins Barracks.  A famous ship in Irelands history, used by a famous novelist to smuggle in guns for the nationalist movement and 1916 Easter Rising.  Also just a beautiful ship with a fascinating history, the room has many good and informative displays.

Back in the city centre….

Trinity College- an oasis of colligate calm right in the heart of Dublin’s busy city centre, studded with fabulous architecture.  There are fine old Universities or beautiful old colleges all on one campus in small towns,; and there are Universities, with beautiful old colleges dispersed around lovely towns and cities (like Oxford and Cambridge) but as a friend of mine noticed once, Trinity is unique: an old university, all on one campus and yet right in the middle of a capital city.  This gives it a very special character indeed.

The University was built on an old Priory, (dissolved by Henry VII) founded in 1594, in the last years of the Reformation-era of Henry’s daughter Elizabeth I. She founded it as an instrument of Anglo-Irish policy, with the express aim of preventing Irish students seeking education in Catholic Spain or France, and thus, of saving their souls for the Reformation and their loyalties for the English crown.  The bitter polarization of the following (17th) century ensured this did not happen; instead Trinity effectively became the University for the Anglo-Irish protestant settler class. Even when I was a child, 55-70 years after independence, it was still perceived as a “Protestant University”! – a perception now of distant memory only.   Although the University dates from 1594, most of the wonderful architecture you will see comes from the 18th century onwards.  Notably….

Front Square with its fine flanking Buildings (the Chapel and Exam Hall)  both by William Chambers (the architect of Buckingham Palace and Summerset House in London, as well as Dublin’s own Charlemont House and Casino at Marino.

The Dining Halls date from the same period.  Don’t tell them I sent you, but be bold: try to try to sneak in here, to see this large, very grand, wood-lined, Harry Potter style dining room, hung with portraits of former Provosts (University Chancellors) and a few kings as well, notably George III and George IV.  (Sure what could be more “Georgian” than that?)

The Long Room/Old Library.  Originally built in the 18th century by Thomas Burgh, who had already made a very splendid building, but then substantially remodeled in the mid-19th century by other designers, two geniuses called Deane & Woodward. Their enormous, barrel- vaulted wooden ceiling has to be seen to be believed:  one of the most beautiful rooms in Europe, perhaps the world- a fantasy space, stuffed full of ancient leather bound books.  In the immortal words of one contemporary, viewing the alterations of the two great architects,-  “what once had merely been superb,  now became sublime.”

Unmissable.

Trinity College Dublin-The Long Room-Old Library

The Museum Building   My other, personal, favourite in Trinity College, this home of the college’s small museum collection, (which were once far more substantial.)  This building also houses parts of the Geography, Geology and Engineering departments.  (My father was once an undergraduate here) But the real treasure is the building itself, again by Deane and Woodward, and often thought to be their masterpiece.  This is a stunning example of Victorian Venetian-style Gothic-Revival architecture, with additional flavours of Moorish, Byzantine and other Eastern influences.    Look out for the ceramic tiles surrounding the glass skylights; the extraordinary Wagnerian staircase in Green Connemara marble; and the two fossilized Giant Irish Elk flanking and guarding the doorway.  If you visit with young people, you should get them to “hunt-out” the carved birds and animals on the stone exterior too.

Also to see in Trinity, two modern classics. Paul Korelec’s Berkley Library. Not everyone likes Brutalism (architecture) including a few people who are hazy about what it means, but this is superb example of the idiom.

The Samuel Beckett theatre is a modern building, in the style of an old Tudor or Jacobean playhouse of Shakespeare’s time.  Named for Trinity Graduate (and one-time unenthusiastic lecturer here), Nobel-laureate Samuel Beckett; author of Endgame and Waiting for Godot.

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above: revelers & performers at Dublin Castle, last Hallo’ween.   

Dublin Castle.  The paying-in bits of the castle- called “the State Rooms “or “State Apartments”- are a bit of waste of time I think. (And of money obviously)   The best parts of Dublin castle are all free, including the small but beautiful Chapel Royal, (the private chapel of the King when he was in Ireland)  the wonderful Chester Beatty Library which is a collection of eastern & oriental art and manuscripts and, just outside the Chester Beatty, the small park or circular lawn that gives Dublin its name, former site of the old Dubh Linn, once a black lake that lay here.  This lawn is great to laze around on, our occasional sunny days. (whenever they arrive!)

Other great Dublin sights, “in brief”. 

Georgian Dublin: a selection. 

Gandon’s Four Courts, on north side of the quays. Not generally open to the public, for obvious reasons, but the exterior view of dome and façade alone are worth an outside visit.

Gandon’s King’s Inns.  can be approached from Henrietta Street, or for the full spectacle of his stunning façade, from Constitution Hill.  The park here is also great on sunny days.  Look out for an old park bench, devoured by a tree!

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Also, when you are at the Kings Inn’s if you like 19th century architecture, you should walk acorss the road to view the amazing façade of the old derelict Broadstone railway station.

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Gandon’s Customs House (see my archives, under the title “Power, Beauty and Intrigue)

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The Casio at Marino   by another genius of the age (and Gandon’s mentor) William Chambers.  This “miniature” pleasure palace, built for James Caufield, earl of Charlemont, is a miracle of delightful deception and one of the finest neo-Classical buildings in Europe. A masterpiece, pure and simple.

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Interior of the Casino at Marino. photo credit Con O’Donneghue.

The GPO.   Otherwise known as the General Post office, although no Dubliner would ever call it that. (Any more than we’d put black current in our Guinness, t’is sacrilege)   You can hardly miss the huge columns on O’Connell’s Street, of this fine building with a much storied history, the main site of the Easter 1916 Rising and a shrine for Irish nationalists.

Dublin’s Streets and Squares.   Merion and Fitzwilliam Square on the Southside, Parnell and Mountjoy Square on the North side.

Victoriana: a selection: -

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The Museum Building in Trinity. (See main section on Trinity College, in this post)

The Fruit and Vegetable markets.   Don’t miss the lovely 19th century exterior decorative artwork: (below) terracotta reliefs, portraying the produce on sale inside.

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The University Church.  Barely visible behind its tiny, red-brick entrance on Saint Stephens Green (South) this under-appreciated masterpiece, and a wonderful 19th century fusion of Byzantine, Lombard, Venetian and other elements,  stunningly combined.  

Iveagh Gardens.  Less used than St Stephen’s Green: more peaceful and magical.  Battered old stone statues, a small maze, sundials and peaceful seclusion all await you.

Blessington Bassin:  this little hidden away canal basin water reservoir is like a small lake, with ducks and geese swimming by.  It’s one of the few peaceful places in the North east quadrant of the North(east) city centre.  (The northwest city of course has Phoenix Park)

One more, other great way to explore and really understand the city: – Read, find or download,   “the History of Ireland in One hundred Objects”.       The title is self-explanatory, This is a list of Irelands best, and most historically revealing artifacts, and where to find them.    This was a newspaper series, is now a book.  But you can also find and pick up the same list as an illustrated map in some museums.  For those with smart-phones, it’s even available as a free Ap too.   More than half the objects on the list are right here, in Dublin.  So find the map, or download the free Ap,  and get cracking!

You can use the other posts in this blog as a supplementary source of information, or if you want additional, further suggestions of places or artifacts, or rad the articles for historical, background context.

Good luck, and enjoy it all.   Explore and enjoy Dublin!

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from Sea to shining Sea, a picture walk, on Howth head.

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On of the best walks near Dublin is the circumnavigation of the Howth peninsula.  I love to do the entire 360 circuit, and prefer it anti-clockwise, if you like, as you begin on the south-facing side and so catch more sun.

Just leave the car at and start walking somehwere between the modern church near Sutton cross and Sutton dinghy club and get going.  Sutton Cross incidentally must be one of the few crossroads in Europe where you can go straight forward and be on the sea, turn both left or right and both are by the sea, or even head back where you came, and still be on the sea.  All four directions, sea.  This seemed logically impossible to me for a very long time,  my brain refused to accept it.  But its true.  Anyway,  I digress.

There are a lot of really nice houses to enjoy.   Look at this lovely art deco classic below.

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isn’t that just beautiful?   I dream of living in a house like this!

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There are a surprising amount of palm trees and cordilines all around Dublin, especially on costal Dublin Bay, where, presumably the mild maritime air protects them from frost.   One Irish writer (Hugo Hamilton) even wrote a book called “Dublin, where the Palm Trees grow”.   We like to delude ourselves that we live in California, or the south of France.   You’d be surprised just how often this works.  According to a recent article I read, despite all the recent economic chaos and incompetence, the gloom, stagnation and hardship, Irish people are still indexed as among the happiest in the world.     I credit the palm trees.      And being able to look at houses like these…

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and this nice one below.

As you see below, it is simply a boat house that’s been converted into living space.  It’s very simple;  no fuss or dreaded bling.   With its little stand or beach below, and its car parked outside, I find this ineffably cool.

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If I did have to offer just one suggestion, I think they should plant a palm tree.   Just a thought.   Anyway, that one is near the dinghy club.   Here are some other very nice, more traditional houses nearby,as we continue walking east…

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Here below, are 3 houses I’ve never quite ever made up my mind about.  But I present them nonetheless, for your inspection…

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Or this one…

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In the third house, the one just above,  you can see the little Indian-style flourishes, especially on the verandah, (a word of Hindu language origin incidentally).   I have a pet theory on this house, that it was built by a retired Irish major or general, a stout old soldier from the Indian army, to see out his days, by the sea, siting out on his verandah, dozing in the sun with a blanket on his knees, dreaming of old polo matches, and the durbars and the regimental dances, the night the Viceroys’s daughter waltzed with him.  ah…

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Here above is one of a terrace of nice little cottages.  They were built for tram-workers, or was it retired lighthouse men?  I can’t recall just now, but one of those anyway.

There is a nice surprise at the end of this same terrace of charming but modest dwellings, this (below) is the gable end of the terrace, as the land and lawn slopes downhill, it increases the sense of height.   I love that steep flight of steps at the side of the house too, and the deep yellow door, on the outbuilding beside.    In fact, I love pretty much everything about this house.

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Now the road ends, you go through a metal gate and the dirt track begins, winding a trail just along the sea.      Soon you see this great Martello tower…

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Here it is again from the far side.

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and one more time, looking back behind us, as we walked further east towards the lighthouse…

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There are different routes around  many people like to cut up towards the summit ofHowth head.  But I always like to stick to the track nearest the sea.   There is still a fair bit of up and down.  Here, below, are some great steps, cut into the pinkish-dun Cambrian stone of Howth head.   (If you can make them out in the shadow.  Excuse the lousy exposure.)

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Here are 2 pictures below from the several coves and pebble beaches along the route.  I’ve swum off these coves plenty of times in the past.  Sure I will again in future.  Summer is slowly coming.

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Back up on the track.   Look at the way this wall winds off, away, far into the very far distance, into infinity.  It all has a slight Yellow brick road, or even Great Wall of China feel to it.   Do I exaggerate?  Well, probably.  But you know what i mean.

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At one point in the wall,  is this house below.  It is one of the more isolated on the route.  It reminds me, just a slight bit,  of a cottage near Schull away in distant west Cork, that my mum used to rent off friends, and formany summers where she took me and my sister as kids.   Although in fairness to my mum, we could always walk to the local village.  it just took an hour.

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A lot of the wall by the way is made of local stone, mixed or sometimes rendered I guess with this stuff, made as you see from beach material, sand, pebble and shells.

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Then the landscape and the vegetation changes again, as it does during this walk.  Things become less rugged, more cultivated.   A hint, of hidden gardens starts to reappear. Image

The wall is replaced with this fancy fence.  And we get our first distant glimpse of the famous Bailey lighthouse.

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The cliffs fall away much more steeply now.  Looking down you can see gulls and cormorants perched on the rocks far below.  You often see plenty of seals as well and, more occasionally, a pod of dolphins.   My ultimate dreams, anywhere around the Irish coast, is to see one of those amazing Sunfish.   Either that, or a basking shark.

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Since the last time i did this walk, maybe eight months to a year back, somebody has treated the path in this area to a nice dusting of rather posh, fine gravel.   It used to be a mud bath on rainy days, and this will probably improve the drainage.  It bounces the light nicely too.

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There, alas,  we shall have to leave it.    The walk was completed but, rather annoyingly, the battery on my camera died near this spot !  (sniff)

The walks ends of course at the lovely harbour and historic fishing town of Howth.  But that’ll have to be for another day.   I’ll try and post on that wonderful spot some time soon.

until then, many thanks for reading.

-Arran.

a shorter photo essay- Four Courts to Green St & around.

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This is the companion photo essay to the recent Pearse St post.   http://arranqhenderson.com/2013/02/20/autumn-when-dublin-comes-to-life-a-little-picture-essay-of-pearse-st/    This walk took place on the same Open House weekend.   And our little gathering of arcitectural and social history afficianados were led by the same guide, the excellent Lisa Cassidy.

We started just behind the Four Courts, at Chancellery House, (above), designed by Herbert Simms, commemorated in this plaque,  below. 

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Next we walked to the lovely old city markets.  I have been a fan of these great buildings for many years, and have written articles and even a chapter of my endless Hidden Dublin book about them.  But I usually tend to concentrate on the wonderful decorative scheme on the exterior of the building, with its fantastic terracotta reliefs of fruit and fish.  Image

Lisa drew our attention more to  the interior iron frame of the building. (above and below) 

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Next it was off to the 18th century Green Street Court House.  (below)  This is where the romantic, doomed figure of Robert Emmet was tried.  It was from the dock of the courtroom inside this building that he made his famous speech, so often reproduced and so celebrated by later Irish patriots.

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Emmets fellow United Irishmen, the equally tragic and heroic Sheares brothers, were also condemned in these courts, also receiving the death penalty for treason.  (They were sentenced to the gruesome and cruel fate to be hung, drawn and quartered)  Today, their remains lie interred in the famous crypts of nearby St Michan’s Church.   Due to the astonishing properties of the air in the limestone magnesim cypts, which tends to mummify bodies, it’s even possible their poor corpses are still relatively intact.   I hope to post about St Michan’s someday soon, on some of the many stories associated with this unique Dublin church.

In the meanwhile, let’s take one look at a detail from the Green Street Court House. where everyone from the 1798 United Irishmen to 1990s Republican splinter group Dissidents have been tried.  (the later by the no-jury Special Criminal Court, formed by the Irish state in order to prevent jury intimidation during the tense, critical period following the Good Friday peace accord )   For a place with so much dark and serious history, this sweet little symbol of the guiding hand pictured below, seems like something of a anomaly.

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Next it was on to Smithfield Square.  All Dubliners will know this place well. It is of course the home of an old, historic distillery, now turned into a visitor attraction. (I nearly wrote tourist trap!)  Smithfield is also the home of a famous horse market, that takes place on the first Sunday of every month, a lively and occaionally dangerous affair.   Smithfield is also huge, easily the length of two full football picthes, and almost a wide as one. (I totally failed to get a picture that captures this sense of scale, apologies for that)   This enormous plot of urban land  has also been much modernized in the last 15 years or so, during the boom years, and I think it is fair to say results were mixed, certainly not always happy.

For example, there is an absurd series of vast 20-meter high poles.   Each topped with an enormous gas burner, designed, one can only presume, to create some sort of Triumph of the Will, Nuremberg rally effect.  But the gas burners were lit less and less, as people realsied that they were:  a- an ecological nightmare (duh);   b- incredibly expensive to run (duh)  and finally: c- that people in the adjacent flats might not actually want a huge screaming torch burning right outside their windows (double-duh)   So the big metal poles just stand there now, useless and unused; vain and redundant,  another dismal reminder of the follies, vulgarity and the waste, of those recent, feckless years.

Did I get a picture of the Fascist-style, gas burner poles?  No I did not.   Instead i present a happier Smithfield motif: this rather cool & modernist little services building, below.  Very sexy & Miesian it is too.  I always hope or dream this little building is some sort of projection box.   But apparently it is not.   I have to be told this repeatedly and can still not quite accept it.  It looks like a projection box.  Oh well.     Perhaps they’ll install a projector one day, and use the whole huge square as a giant drive-in movie venue.    Dublin needs a drive-in, in my opinion.    Summer nights…   drifting away…

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Nearby, Lisa drew our attention to this nice old signage.  (below)

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Not to mention this lively graffiti,  (below) 

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At the other, top end of Smithfield Square, stands the well-know Cobblestone pub, synonymous with traditional and live music sessions.   Here is a picture of the eccentric side entrance, (on tiny Red Cow Lane, nowhere near the notorious motorway junction of the same name)  The upstairs rooms in the pub (which this is the entrance to) are always used for live music too, particularly at the weekends.

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Below is a detail of that crazy ramshackle window again,

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I’ve a terrible feeling there is a bench and table, just the other side of this window.   And an even worse feeling i may have sat there myself some drunken nights.  The whole window box looks like it’s about ready to detach from the building and crash down into the street, wiping out anyone just inside.    I won’t be sitting there again.    (yeah, yeah,I know;  easy to say when you’re sober)

Finally from Red Cow Lane, here’s another nice bit of graffiti, (below) presumably from those people who wearGuy Fawkes masks, hack into computers, stage protests at G8 summits and always seem ready to take over the world.                                                               (Wish they’d get on with it, we need all the help we can get)

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We ended our tour by the old Richmond Street Court Houses.  You can tell how much crime and rebellion Ireland had, by the sheer quantity of courts.  (There’s still a backlog of cases, and they recently built another big one)    Anyway, as you may observe, this super building has a slightly Indian appearance, with its green copper Mogul-style domes.

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There is a long-standing tale that this building was indeed intended for India,  but the architects’ plans got mixed up and they were sent here to Dublin instead.    (Presumably there is a corresponding, Irish-looking building, in Calcutta or Madras or somewhere)   I’ve never been able to establish if tis story is really true or just one of those urban myths that are so pleasing we all endlessly repeat them.

Perhaps one day I’ll get a burst of pedantic energy, and check.

Until then,  see you next time.- Arran.

Saint Patricks Tour, 3- a shorter post

Last week we covered the history and foundation of Dublin’s cathedral of Saint Patrick’s, a long, immense, complex web of religious and civil politics, spanning from early “Celtic era” saints, to Viking warriors; from Plantagenet kings to Norman archbishops.   Congratulations to those who managed to follow the story,  in all its machinations, twists and turns!

In reward, an easier post now awaits you.  It’s my intention to bring you, each week, post by post, on a little tour around the cathedral.  Yes, as though we were walking it together, looking at the various sculptures, statues, tombs and memorials.     Along the way we’ll see some marvelous things, and learn a few more stories too.

Our tour proper starts today. Is everybody sitting comfortably?  Then we’ll begin!

Let’s imagine we’ve just walked into the cathedral, through that double porch from the bending lane known as St Patrick’s Close.  Just through the second, inner door, we look first to our right, where the great nave of the cathedral opens up, (below)  its looming vaults soaring overhead.  Between the columns we can catch glimpses,  of tommb, statues and memorials, of arches and stained glass.  Naturally we are eager to see them all.   We shall be travelling that way soon, I promise,  in future posts.   There are scores of treasures to enjoy.

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But today we shall travel in the other direction.  Because before we blunder into these great spaces, and maybe miss something, while we are still by the doorway, we first take a look hard left.   Over there we spy an enormous monument.    Our curiosity piqued, we saunter over to the subject today’s post, the superb, massive multi-layered mid-17th century Boyle memorial, carved in wood.

This vast memorial was commissioned by Richard Boyle, first earl of Cork, to  commemorate himsefl and his second wife Katherine, the mother of his fifteen children.  He and her are depicted on it, along with various other members of their large family.   The figures of the earl and his wife lie in recline at the centre of the memorial, inside the recessed space,  you can just make out his face in the niche below.  The piece has much to tell us about the man who commissioned it, and the turbulent, often violent politics and conflicts  of late 16th and early to mid-17th century Ireland.

The sculptor was Edmond Tingham, whose workshops were in Chapelizzod, on the western reaches of the banks of the Liffey, west past the gates of Phoenix Park, for those who know or have visited Dublin.

In Italy or France, this work would probably be in marble.  But here it is in wood.   The artistry is perhaps not stunning by French or Italian standards, but personally I somehow prefer these works of the Northern Renaissance.

But is the piece even Renaissance?   Well, yes and no.  By date perhaps, yes. And there’s no doubt either that Tingham would have been partially aware of some developments in the great world beyond Irish shores.   But – if you’ve read my Egyptian piece “Ripples of History” – you’ll know the Renaissance came late to Ireland.  So, even though this work dates from the 1600s, it is still carved and conceived in an almost medieval mindset and sensibility.  Ireland in the late Renaissance was a new developing colonial outpost, carved out through guile, grit and blood by ambitious men.  Men like Richard Boyle.

Boyle’s memorial to his wife may lack the sophisticated art, anatomical knowledge and learned polish of continental artworks from the era.  The figures are stout and homely.  It may look clunky, even naïve to some eyes.  But strangely perhaps, I almost prefer such works these days.  One gets jaded with too much sophistication!   Besides, there is plenty of gritty history here.

Nor does the work lack vigour, in its strong composition, its power, vivid colour  sheer bulk and immensity.  Indeed by all accounts it reflects the character of its patron, Richard Boyle, earl of Cork, scion of an old family perhaps but a ruthless self-made man as well, a land-holding magnate, a fighting warrior type, and sire of an immense brood.

I read quite a lot of late 16th and early 17th century history.  But even the most cursory glance at Wikipedia will tell you what an extraordinary man Boyle was and the dangerous and turbulent times he lived thorough and somehow managed to not just survive in, but to prosper.

He was born in Kent in England.  There he attended the local famous school, the King’s school at Canterbury.  Curiously he not only attended this school, at the same time, but later attended the same college (Corpus Christi) at Cambridge University as Christopher Marlowe, the famous playwright, poet, and spy,

Marlowe was author of Tamburlaine; Edward II, and, of course; Doctor Faustus, and a contemporary and literary rival of Shakespeare, who greatly respected him.  (Marlowe was a more educated man, especially in the classics)

However Marlowe met  an early, violent death in very mysterious circumstances.  He was stabbed in 1593, in a pub in Deptford.   At the same time as the Star Chamber, the highest authority in the land, was looking for him.  Marlowe’s early and murky death undoubtedly cleared the stage for Shakespeare, who duly inherited Marlowe’s mantle as England’s pre-eminent dramatist and tragedian.

It was this same shady, ruthless, often bloody world of ambition, politics and intrigue that Richard Boyle now entered and embraced.  If you think modern politics are “cut throat” well, hold on to your seat.  There will be blood.

After Cambridge, Boyle went on study law at London’s Middle Temple.  Then he made his way to Ireland, just one of many Elizabethan-era, “new-English” adventurers to seek his fortune there.    For non-Irish readers, “New English” is our Irish term for this new, protestant generation of Elizabethan and Jacobean English, (in contrast to the Anglo-Norman era, Catholic “old English”)

There would be plenty of politics, intrigue, violence and real-life adventure in Boyle’s career.  He probably married his first wife -Joan Apsley for wealth.  It worked to get him started, gaining him estates, income and valuable connections.    After her death, and in sharp contrast, he almost certainly married his second wife Katherine Fenton, for love, if reports, the size of her memorial here in Saint Patrick’s, or indeed of their vast brood are anything to go by.

Boyle was criticized for the perceived cynicism and opportunism of his first marriage.  In fact, in general Boyle clearly alienated many of his New-English contemporaries in Ireland.   Several highly placed officials did their best to convict him on various charges and he was briefly imprisoned at least once.  Most seriously, he was even accused of colluding with England’s Spanish enemies. In this age of the Armada and religious war, this was an extremely dangerous charge.  If substantiated, it certainly would have seen Boyle beheaded for treason.  Much of Catholic Europe loathed Elizabeth, while Protestant zelots and loyal allies, like her spy master Sir Francis Walsingham,  were equally prepared to do anything to protect her from threat,  or assassination, or England from invasion.

Boyle planned a return to London, to justify himself to the Queen or her representatives and clear his name.   But events in Ireland would intervene first.   Ireland at this time was a pot of simmering ethnic and religious tensions, stoked to boiling point by locals’ land losses to the early plantations, just getting started in earnest, especially of course in Ulster, but also in tracts of Munster, where Boyle’s own estates around Cork and Bandon were a case in point.

A brief digression here about this generation of colonial English and Scots adventurers in Ireland.  You (we) may not like them but their exploits were extraordinary.  From the mostly English plantation-generation in Munster alone, we have Boyle, a bit later Sir William Penn (founder of Pennsylvania) and Sir Walter Raleigh, (the explorer and buccaneer who went to the new world and apparently brought back some odd discoveries from there.    Unfortunately, Raleigh’s new world finds did not catch on.  (Who remembers or has really heard of “tobacco” now?  Or for that matter that forgotten strange ground-growing vegetable reportedly called “the potato”?)     It was Raleigh’s estates, incidentally,  that Boyle bought in County Cork.  He had to build 13 castles to defend the territories.

For students of English literature, the poet Edmund Spenser – author of The Fairie Queen- was in Munster around this same time, as a civil servant in the colonial administrator.  Oh, and Boyle earl of Cork’s own son, Robert Boyle, is recognized as the father of modern Chemistry. Among other feats he is the author of Boyles Law of Gasses.  (It is quite likely, that the small figure of the young child, in the photo above, depicts Robert as a boy.)

The predominantly Presbyterian Scots-Ulster planters in the northeast were equally prolific to their Munster counterparts.  Several ventured further to the New World and by the mid-19th Century, a sizable number of American Presidents (e.g. Andrew Jackson; James Knox Polk; James Buchanan) were of Scots-Ulster decent.     Anyhow,  here ends today’s obligatory digression!

Whatever their later exploits and distinctions,  the circumstances for such planter types Ireland, no matter how ruthless and determined, did not look promising in late 16th and early 17th century.  Local resentments soon turned into open insurrection.  Gaelic rebellion in Munster soon laid waste to Boyle’s estates around Cork.  Without the necessary funds Boyle was temporarily unable to travel to London to clear his name.

A while later however the exact same antagonism and accusations forced him to London, where he returned briefly to legal practice to gain some income.  But at this same period in London, Boyle was touched by the world of very high politics, as he was taken into the services of the earl of Essex.

Essex, the handsome and courtly Robert Devereux, was famously Elizabeth’s favourite (remember Bette Davis and Erol Flynn in the old classic, absurdly rosy,  The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex?)

In real life Essex was a far more complex and probably far darker character.  He had served well in his early military career in the Netherlands.  Now he courted and flattered the elderly queen, for his own ends and ambitions.  She liked his looks and easy charm.  The queen’s favour brought him a far more senior command in the campaign in Ireland, where he would fare far less well.

Meanwhile back in the late 1590s in England, even in London, and even with this powerful new patron, Boyle still seemed surrounded by enemies, including some within the frightening “Star Chamber”  which was to sit in judgment of him, (as they had intended to do with his old school contemporary Marlowe.)

Boyle’s prospects did not look good.  But he escaped this trap when he somehow managed to have the Queen Elizabeth herself present.  He then managed to convince her of his innocence, his loyalty and his worth.

She granted him a commission in Ireland.   Soon he was back, annoying people, throwing his weight around, and heavily involved in the 9-Year War.

The various acts of local resentment and hostility had now turned into a full-scale war.  This, the famous 9-Year War was the last great push of Gaelic Ireland against the English and their hated Plantations.  The leader and figure head in all this was the massive figure of Hugh O’Neil.  Hewas the most powerful Gaelic Lord in Ulster and he  was earl of Tyrone but -far more importantly in the ancient Irish system, he was the O’Neil – (which is a tile in the old Irish system.)   And now O’Neill, having played with the English, was now fiercely resisting them.

O’Neill  (portraits above and below)  had accepted titles and given his submission to Elizabeth in return for guarantee of his lands, under the Tudor system known as “surrender and re-grant”. But O’Neill was not impressed with an English-style title like the earl of Tyrconnell.  He hardly considered himself some ordinary, petty baron.  He came from kings, from the great and ancient Sept of the O’Neills, who had been high Kings of Ireland for time immemorial.

He treated, and was treated as a Prince in the states of Europe.  He did not like these vulgar, nouveau riche newcomers coming in and grabbing land from his neighbours.  His whole people, his entire culture and history, looked to him for leadership.  His distant kinsman and ally the earl of O’Donnell, from the neighbouring Gaelic O’Donnell kingdom in Donnegal, and the Maguires, felt much the same way.   They were soon in open rebellion.  Dangerously, treasonably and very frighteningly from an English perspective, they were also courting an alliance with London’s mortal Spanish enemies,

Specifically they courted the king of Spain, the arch-devout-catholic monarch of Europe, Phillip III of Spain, (above)  a powerful monarch with vast resources as his domains included Spain itself; Austria, the highly developed Netherlands, Philippines as well as the vast resources of gold and silver-rich South America.

Even without Spanish assistance, things in Ireland for the English in the Nine Year War were going from bad to worse.   Hugh O’Neill and his allies already defeated several English armies sent to tame him.  In March 1595,  he made light work of the army of Henry Bagnel, routing it at the Battle of Clonibert in County Monaghan.     Then an enormous Gunpowder explosion ripped apart the centre of Dublin in 1597, destroying the city centre and obliterating scores of people. In August 1598, O’Neill destroyed a second army, killing 2000 English soldiers at the Battle of Yellow Ford.

It was now obvious in London that many more men and resources, and vast amounts of money needed to be thrown into the fight in Ireland if the crown was to Prevail.   At this stage, 1599, Boyle’s patron, the ever-ambitious earl of Essex, talked himself into the job in Ireland, as Lord Luietentant and military commander of crown forces.  But, even equiped with 16-17,000 men, a very large force then,he did not do much better, wasting time and men in expeditions south of Dublin,  instead of marching to in Ulster to confront O’Neill directly .  When Essex did finally attempt to face O’Neill, he had lost so many men to dysentery that was forced into signing a compromise treaty that many in England regarded as a failure or even a humiliation for the crown.   Essex then returned to England, without permission, and was promptly put on trial.   He was partly exonerated but never regained his power and influence at court.  He was also stripped of the trade monopoly (for sweet wine apparently) and thus the income necessary to support his lavish lifestyle.

This humiliation, allied to his relentless ambition, later led Essex to the extreme desperation of trying to to lead what seems to be some sort of badly organized coup.    It quickly spluttered out,  failing miserably.  Essex was tried a second time.   This time their was no reprieve.   He was convicted by a jury of his peers and duly lost his head on the block, the last-ever  person be executed at the Tower of London.

Even more seriously, came the dire news that the Spanish now sent military help to assist O’Neill, and their ships lay at anchor off  Kinsale,  in Co. Cork, by Richard Boyes estates of course.

This was another Armada in its way, and almost as dangerous to England.  The O’Neill and O’Donnell forces now made the long, hard march south to join forces with the Spanish and make common cause with their catholic allies to destroy the English and their colony in Ireland.    But it was a long and difficult march and gave the English time to reach KInsale from Dublin first.  This little map below shows the route taken by the O’Donnell army from Donnegal.

The English, with the new commander Mountjoy,  rushed south to meet this joint menace.  They reached the south before the Gaelic army from Uslter and besieged the town of Kinsale, which the Spanish forces had occupied and done their best to fortify.   When the Gaelic armies arrived, muddy and exhausted, the two sides clashed at the battle of Kinsale.  With the O’Neills and their allies far from their Ulster territory and powerbase, the English managed to prevail, and the besieged Spanish survivors surrendered.

I have read that Boyle himself able to deliver the news to Elizabeth.  If so, it would have been breathless news to deliver,   This was a pivotal moment in British and Irish history and there was no doubting who was now in the ascendancy.   The colony and protestant interest in Ireland was preserved for the foreseeable future.  In sharp contrast, Gaelic Ireland was spent force.   O’Neill, and O’Donnell, did hang on a while longer. But now they could not even adequately defend their own territory, as the English rampaged through Ulster.  The Irish Nine Year war was all but over.    Within a few years the great Ulster earls, increasingly hemmed in and under ever-greater pressure,  were forced to give up,   They with their close kin and  retainers all set sail, for exile in Spain, an event known as the Flight of the earls.

There would be one more, last final heave for the remanents of aristocratic, Gaelic, catholic Ireland later, towards the end of the 17th century, called the Williamite-Jacobite war.  But I’ll tell you all about that some other day, later on our tour of the cathedral.

With the lands around Cork, Kinsale and Bandon safe, the Plantations accelerating, his Cork estates finally secured, and the Gaelic menace seen off,  that seems to end the first, eventful chapter of Richard Boyle’s life.   But there was plenty more drama and conflict to come.

Elizabeth, “the virgin queen” died soon after the battle of Kinsale.   She childless of course so she was succeeded by the first Stuart monarch James I of England (also James VI of Scotland)  James continued the policy of Plantation.  Tough old Richard Boyle outlived both Elizabeth and James.  James was succeeded by his son, Charles I.  ( Portrayed in the image below, painted by the Flemish master, Sir Anthony Van Dyck).

here begins another belligerent chapter in old Richard Boyle’s pugnacious career.

Boyles political struggles would continue under this new realm, the third monarch he had lived under.   Life was not really about to get any quieter.

The earl must have had a high notion of himself.  Bizarrely this huge wooden memorial to himself and his wife himself and his wife used to stand directly behind the altar!

It was moved to this current location on the insistence of the earl’s arch political enemy from this later stage of colourful career.  This was Thomas Wentworth, earl of Stafford (1593-1641).

Wentworth/Stafford was King Charles’ Viceroy in Ireland, a determined, ambitious and driven man.  Stafford and the archbishop of Dublin Laud both despised the earl of Cork.  Both were delighted to have his memorial moved from behind the altar to a less glamourous location near the door.   Obviously this was a symbolic gesture, meant to humiliate the earl, but there were far higher stakes at play.

Stafford was determined to force through reforms in Ireland.  He was harsh and unpopular in Ireland but he served Charles loyally and well, doubling customs duty, getting rid of piracy and raising an army .

Feeling secure in his position, he was not afraid to trample on local sensibilities either.  The earl of Cork was just one of many powerful enemies he made, both in Ireland and back in London, where the restive Puritans and parliamentarians also cordially loathed him.  Boyle, predictably, was instrumental in his bloody downfall, testifying at his trial when Wentworth was finally abasnodoned by his royal master and impeached in front of a vengeful parliamentarian.

The Boyle family incidentally, never forgave the Cathedral for allowing of their memorial to be moved.  I’ve even read that even over a hundred years later, they refused to help pay for any restoration work, unless it was restored to its original position!   It never has been moved.

But Stafford fared far worse.  Having flown very high as Viceroy and as favourite and key advisor to Charles, he was later cynically, cravenly abandoned.  After much heart ache and brest beating, Charles sacrificed his loyal Viceroy.   Wentworth was tried and impeached by the Parliamentarians.  He was beheaded in 1641.

Charles’ cynical sense of self-preservation and expediency did not save him in the long run.  England was slipping ever closer to civil war.   Charles lost the war.  He himself was tried and impeached, and famously lost his royal head, in that extraordinary, unthinkable act, of regicide, at Whitehall, in January 1649.

Boyle had died a few years earlier, in 1643.   At the time, he had even gone to England, having temporarily lost his lands,  in the Irish Rebellion of 1641, one of many upheavals in this most bloody and endlessly complex era of Irish history, and all tied up with the equally complex series of bitter rolling inter-related conflicts in England, Ireland and Scotland.

But Richard Boyle, that dynast, that vulgar political pugilist and opportunist, that grabber of lands and favour, sometimes called “the first colonial millionaire” and “archetypal adventurer”  would have pleased to learn of events after his death.

He  claimed to have founded the town of Bandon, a blatant lie,  but he did import the iron works there and import and establish also the colony of settlers there over from England.  To this day there is a protestant community in pockets of Cork, and most notanbly in Bandon.  The church of Ireland (Anglican) Bandon grammar school is still thriving,  founded 1641 by the earl of Cork.

40 years after the Battle of Kinsale, when Ireland had seemed pacified or at least subdued, trouble erupted again, with the bloody Irish rebellion in 1641.  Bitter fighting would continue over the next 12 years, and perhaps a third of the population would perish in that period- a story we shall tell in the next post.    But Boyle would have pleased by one thing at least.  As the initial stages of the local part of the rebellion was put down, with the vigorous actions of his sons, they regained the family’s Munster estates within a few short years.

The family have this vast wooden behemoth to the memory of their kin here in the cathedral.  In a place where Archbishops, Field Marshalls and Dukes are all interred, it is still the largest memorial in Saint Patrick’s.

Rumour says they still won’t contribute to its upkeep!

Oh, if you have read the piece above, please leave a comment below.   Thank you.

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The Origins of Saint Patricks cathedral.

Health Warning:  This post is intended as a history resource and contains a Lot of information.   You’ve been warned !

Important Note 2:  Note on photography, maps, and image credits.  all photographs in this article are by the author, unless otherwise noted.  I’m not precious about it but if you wish to use an image please contact me and if I provide permission naturally I’d like to get a basic acknowledgement and credit.   Photographs not by the author are marked with the name of their photographer, or in the case of images from the net and/or where the photographer is unknown, marked either  ”photo uncredited” and/or “photographer unknown”.   (some older images maps and traditional works like engravings it is almost imposible to race the name of artist, or the name has even been lost)     Obviously this site is not for commericial use so most of us are happy to share images.   But if you are or if you know  the artist or photographer responisble for an imgage please contact me via comments and I shall be delighted to amend and provide credit and acknowledgement.  (Obviously if I am asked by a photographer to take an image down I’ll do so)     Once again, please inform me if you wish to use or share my own images, and always provide a credit.    Phew, that’s done!    now for some history…  Read on… 

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A couple of weeks back I wrote my little introduction and promised to follow up with more.  Well…    here goes.   I hope you are all ready for some history !    This is a very long post,  it is intended as a resource for people who really want to know some of the complex history behind early and medieval Dublin.   For others you may wish to break up your trip, to  pay several short visits, or none!

We’ll start with  the very origins of the tiny church from the early Celtic era,   Then, we’ll pick up the story again later,  nearly 600 hundred years later,  following theNorman invasion, as a new chapter opens, culminating in that tiny church becoming the great cathedral it is today.

What follows are three excerpts from my book explaining the complex events that followed,  and the even more complex religious and political background to those events.

Part one:  Saint Patrick,  and monastic Ireland.  460s etc..

Part two: early Anglo-Norman Dublin. 1171- onwards-followed by…  The story of the two cathedrals.

Story one: Patrick’s Well.

History: An introduction to Dublin- foundation, Vikings and Normans,

Part One:  Patrick’s Well.

Sometime around the 460s, as Saint Patrick made his famous progress through Ireland, he stopped in the Poddle valley.  This valley is near the area of what would – around four hundred years later- become the Viking city of Dyflin.      Today this former small trading and slaving post is a large port and capital city.     We know it as Dublin.

Back in the time of St Patrick of course, there was no Dublin city.  But there was a ford across the river Liffey. In Irish this was the Átha Cliath- the hurdle ford, hurdles being the woven rushes on the ford.

Since people travelling down the coast needed to cross the Liffey at some point this ford was an important staging post, so almost certainly there was a settlement here.   This was the Baile Átha Cliath, the town of the Hurdle Ford.  It is still one of the Irish names for the capital today, visible on Dublin Busses.

Away to the south of the river Liffey, in the area of the smaller Poddle River, (today underground) was another small but separate cluster of settlement.  Here stood a tiny, early Christian church.  This was one of four Celtic churches in the area, variously founded perhaps by Patrick himself, or by the existing handful of Christians who preceded him.

This particular church was sited on a type of island formed by the two branches of the Poddle River.  The little island church  had a holy well.  Tradition accounts tell us that Patrick used water from this well to baptize new converts, founding or at least increasing the tiny Christian community here.  In other words, the small Celtic era church of Saint Patrick’s pre-dates the city of Dublin itself.

Eventually the saint proceeded on his way northwards towards Armagh.    At some stage later, we don’t know exactly when- the holy well was covered with a carved stone cover, a wellhead in short.

Just over a hundred years ago, a stone wellhead was found at the exact same site.  Confusingly, the Celtic style carvings were dated- by stylistic analysis- later than Patrick, to between 800-1100.   This date means it may not have been the first wellhead.  On the other hand it probably is the same stone.  Since stone is durable, the original probably survived from Patrick’s time but was only carved later, as the cult of Saint Patrick grew.    Either way, remember this artifact, sometime after 800 AD, was moved and misplaced.   It would remain hidden, forgotten, buried,  for many hundreds of years.

Saint Patrick’s tiny, ancient 5th century church would, much later  (in the 12th century)  become a mighty medieval cathedral. (We shall tell you the bizarre story how & why this in a while)   This cathedral  was hugely restored in the 19th century Victorian period, and additional work continued into the early 20th century.   During this work, in 1901, the ancient carved wellhead that marked Patrick’s ancient baptism site was uncovered; revealed for the first time in perhaps a thousand years.

Above:  Two views of the well head, that in my view, almost certainly covered the holy well used for baptism and conversions by Patrick himself in the Poddle valley in the 5th century.  In the background of the second picture you can see a glimpse of some of the lovely memorial sculptures along the North wall of the cathedral.  

Early History continued:  The Origins and foundation of Dublin City.

Dublin only became a city long after Saint Patrick.

It was foreigners rather than the Gaelic Irish who founded Dublin as a city.  From around 781,  or some three hundred years after Patrick’s progress, the Vikings or Norse started to appear around the coasts and rivers of Ireland.

The first Vikings came from Norway, later ones from Denmark.   They came at first as marauders, as raiders of monasteries and takers of slaves.

          

Traditional images of Norse/Vikings. Artists unknown. 

It appears the first Norse settlement along the Liffey may have been at Islandbridge, where some spectacular Viking artifacts like armour, jewels and weapons were discovered in the 19th century.   There may have been another large settlement some 70 K North of Dublin also, although this did not thrive in the long run and ultimately perished.

Later the Norse settled down, in both senses of that phrase.

A  wonderful artist’s impression of an embryonic or small settlement elsewhere  back in the Vikings’ native Scandinavia. (panting by an unknown Swedish artist)  But, with the addition of the much larger river Liffey, this is probably very similar to how the tiny Norse trading post of Dyflin looked like for the first few years.    For what it looked like later, see a picture a few paragraphs below. 

The Norse now evolved and to some extent, changed their way and pattern of life.  Although there was still a strong warrior culture, indeed perhaps even a warrior caste,  many Norse becamesettled  tradespeople- craftsmen and merchants.  There had been hardly any large-scale urban settlement in Ireland prior to their arrival.  But the Norse now changed that, founding not only Dublin but Cork, Limerick and Waterford too, all ports, on rivers, all cities built on trade.

A very useful map by The Ireland Story, with a link to their excellent website http://www.irelandstory.com.    Note that the four current provinces of Ireland, Ulster, Munster, Leinster and Connaught, are joined by a fifth.  If you look carefully at the khaki shaded area in the north and middle, you’ll see it is in fact divided in two, the central part being  is the fifth traditional province of ancient Ireland, Meath.      Note also the brighter green areas, the small but thriving ports founded by the Norse.  

As the Norse changed their way of life, their Liffey base moved too, relocating eastward from Islandbridge to a new, much longer lasting settlement, located around what is now the South west of modern central Dublin.  Viking Dublin was in the areas we now know as Christ Church, Temple Bar, the Civic Buildings and Dublin Castle.   Many artifacts have been found here also, but they are of a different type to the Islandbridge hoard.  Instead of armour and weapons we have evidence of trade and manufacture, metalwork and bone-work, especially combs, of food and drinks and coins and toys.  All the evidence, in other words, of a thriving working, trading city.

Look at this fantastic artist’s impression by artist, educationalist & historian Iain Barber (thank you Iain)  - of Norse Dublin at its zenith.  Note the defensive stockade and, in particular-  the ships at anchor in Dubh Linn,  the former lake at the confluence of the Poodle joining the larger Liffey.   As you see, most of the houses are still of timber.  Only a few, very wealthy people had stone houses. This is of course Iain’s interpretation, based on much reading and research.    My own, (admittedly secondary) researches to-date suggest there may have been a fort-like structure, and large meeting hall or halls, at the S.E corner, the corner nearest you in this picture, occupying toughly the site where Dublin Castle stands today. .  

What about the rest of Ireland?

Let’s leave the Norse for a moment an look around the rest of Ireland, which was still by far the majority of the territory, still of course very Gaelic, and very different.  By the this stage, as you know, thanks to the exertions of Patrick and others, Gaelic Ireland had long been a Christian land, with a vigorous monastic tradition.

Norse Power in Decline.

the Vikings, in contrast were still pagans.  Although they assimilated to some extent, forming marriages and alliances, learning Irish language and customs and indeed becoming players in the politics of Ireland, the Vikings were slow to change religion, and they did not convert until much later.  For centuries they continued to honour their own Norse Gods like Thor and Odin.

However, by the eleventh century Norse power was on the wane.  Famously, they took a hammering at the battle of Clontarf in 1014, from the great Irish high king or Ard Ri Brian Boru.

Engraving of Brian Boru Traditional. 

This setback prompted a change of heart, because in 1028 the Dublin Norse finally relented.  In that year local Irish bishop Donat, -Dúnán in Irish- converted and baptized the Viking king of Dublin- a ruler with the wonderful name of Sitric Silkenbeard.

Above:   an image of Sitric, minted onto this old, Viking-era, Dublin coin. 

Dúnán and Sitric then made the long pilgrimage to Rome together.  There they met the Pope.   On their return they founded Dublin’s first, and of course only cathedral- Christ Church.

The founding of Christ Church cathedral.

Christ Church is scarcely one quarter of a mile away from Patrick’s little island church on the Poddle.  It stood, and it still stands, on the dryer, frankly better, stretch of high ground that was once called the Brow of Hazels, overlooking the larger river Liffey.   Well drained and close by the city, it was a sensible place to build a Cathedral, far better than the lower, marshy ground around the Poddle.

At first, like nearly all Norse Dublin, Christ Church was made of timber.  Alas, we have no recorded image.  But since the Vikings were master shipbuilders, perhaps it resembled something like a giant, upturned Longboat.  I like to imagine the wooden ceiling like the great barrel vault of the famous Long Room, although this may be fanciful.  In any case, the Christ Church was born.  A hundred and fifty years later it would be re-built in stone. Some would argue the Cathedral was rebuilt twice, once by Normans and once by Victorians,  but more about that later. The real point is, by around 1038, Dublin had its cathedral.

Since one Cathedral is enough for everyother city in the world, that should now be the end of the story.  However, like all good Dublin tales, this one has a twist !

if you are not already exhausted,  Read on…

The story of The Two cathedrals, part 1.

Background.  There are two bits of background we have to know to understand the twist. First of all, in 1163,  the Irish archbishop of Dublin Laurence O’Toole made Christ Church cathedral a Priory Order.  This essentially meant Christ Church became a sort of Abbey or Monastery, ruled by Augustan cannons, and the cathedral was its church.  This may not sound very revolutionary or even very political. But the significance will shortly become clear.

Secondly, and far more dramatically, Ireland was invaded.    And here begins the start  of the blog world longest ever digression.  Please skip down to …. “The story of The Two cathedrals, part 2.” if you just want the cathedral part of the story and not all the political, Gaelic, Norman, Continental, church and political background!

Norman Conquest.

In 1169 a small advanced party of Norman warriors landed in the Southeast of the country.    There they rendezvoused with some troops loyal to a local deposed king; the infamous Dermot MacMurrough.

Background to the invasion>  As every Irish school child knows Dermot MacMurrough, (Diarmid or Diramit Mac Muchadha in Irish) was king of Leinster.  A few years before the Normans however, Dermot made enemies of another ruler, Tiernan O’Rourke, king of Brefni, by the age-old method of stealing Tiernan’s wife.  Dermot then went one better, alienating the Ard Ri (the high-king) Rory O’Connor.

Rory and Tiernan had enough.  They combined to oust Dermot from Leinster.  Dermot lost his lands but was lucky to narrowly escape with his life.  But he was a tough, crafty and determined type, and not content to skulk about in exile.

Desperate to regain his possessions,  Dermot now went off to seek the help of the great Norman king Henry II.  Henry was a remarkable man, father of two english kings, the husband of the equally extraordinary and strong willed Elenor of Aquitaine, and the one of the most powerful men in Europe.

        

Above, traditional images of the remarkable Henry II, and his equally remarkable wife, Elenor of Aquitaine. 

As Duke of Normandy, Count of Anjou and Duke of Aquitaine, as well as the king of England Henry was immensely rich and powerful.    In fact, his lands in France alone were, bizarrely, even bigger than the king of France itself.   So, well I won’t bang on about, you get the general idea,  Henry really was a very powerful man.

A map of  showing the extent of Henry’s lands and realm in Europe, including his kingdom in England, his de facto control of Wales and his vast estates in France, where he was once a count and a Duke two times over.   From an Irish perspective this map is curious, as it shows his writ as extending right to the Shannon.  Depending on your interpretation, this is either too modest or far too optimistic.  To see what i mean read on.  

Beside this vast Angevin empire, Henry’s Norman warriors, with their chain mail and cavalry horses were the best of the time, famed for martial prowess.

Now all this of course, is exactly the kind of help a bitter & determined Irish king-in-exile tends to seek out, in times of need.      Accordingly Dermot was traipsing across England looking for Henry.   But, at first,  to no avail.     Henry was culturally far more French than English, and seemed to prefer the former country.  So, after his fruitless trek across Britain, Dermot eventually found Henry at his fabled court in Aquitaine, in Southwest France. (Henry’s famed son Richard the Lion-Heart incidentally, was later much the same, living in France rather than England,  when not on crusade)

There at Henry’s court, Dermot told his sorry tale.  He made his petition for aid.   And, of course, he offered Henry his own feudal-style submission in return.

You can be sure Henry listened with great interest.  Because, by extraordinary coincidence, it is generally believed that Henry had a letter from the Pope, giving him permission to conquer Ireland.

Even if this document-known as “Laudibiliter”- really existed,  (it is has not survived but many historians believe in it)  Henry had never acted on it in the past.   Perhaps he preferred to keep it as a “card in reserve”.

Even now however,  even as this golden opportunity presented itself, Henry didn’t in fact give Dermot any money, or any soldiers.   But he did give Dermot something else.  This was a kind of letter.  This document gave Dermot his royal blessing and his permission, for Dermot to recruit from among Henry’s Norman subjects.

Dermot may initially have disappointed.  History does not record.   But clutching this valuable letter, Dermot now went back to England.   He tried to recruit some Norman knights in the city of Bristol but had no luck there.   Then he went to Wales.  There at last,  on the Marches of Wales, he found a hard-up earl.  He was called Richard de Clare, the 2nd earl of Pembroke,  -  but better known to Irish history,  as Strongbow.

Strongbow.

Again Dermot told his tale and he now proposed a bargain. If Strongbow helped recover Dermot’s throne, Dermot promised him vast tracts of land; his daughter’s hand in marriage, and even promised to make Strongbow his own heir, as ruler of Leinster.

It is not given to many men to have a tilt a being king.  But that, effectively,  was what Dermot now offered Strongbow.  The Welsh-Norman Lord was not particularly well-off.  Nor was he in favour with his own king. Strongbow had backed Henry’s rival in the civil war for England (Stephen)  Although he had kept his small estates in Wales, Henry had not really forgiven him. Strongbow knew he could expect little in the way of favour, patronage or advancement from his powerful overlord.    So, with little other prospect for glory or advancement,  Strongbow soon made up his mind, to have a crack at this adventure in Ireland.  He said Yes.

So, the arrivals in the southeast in 1169 were of course the small vanguard of Strongbow’s Norman invasion force.  Although initially successful, they were badly outnumbered.  They were in fact lucky to survive the winter.  (They even hid in a forest for several months.)     But in April the following year,  they were reinforced, when Strongbow arrived with more knights, archers and men-at-arms.   This combined larger force first attacked and defeated Wexford.  Then they captured the much larger seaport of Waterford.

In this defeated city of Waterford Strongbow wed Dermot’s daughter Aoife.  In line with their agreement this marriage put Strongbow in succession to inherit Dermot’s kingdom, an event  immortalized in the enormous, and highly romanticized 19th century painting by Daniel MacLeish.

The artist depicts the smoldering ruins of Waterford,   In fact Waterford was a Hiberno-Norse town, there were no Gaelic warriors there.  But the wedding-in-a-defeated-city setpiece was just too good, too ladden with potent nationalist imagery, for MacLeish to resist. 

In the centre, Strongbow stands impassively in front a row of massed Norman knights. Dermot looks on as a bishop performs the ceremony.  His daughter, the bride Aoife bows demurely, thinking who knows what private thoughts? 

Masters-Collection-at-the-National-Gallery-of-Ireland1-e1310432378341

Defeated Gaelic warriors lie supine in defeat or death; an Irish woman laments; while a Celtic harper grimly stares into space. 

 

With Waterford defeated, and Strongbow now in succession, the Normans now marched on the big prize, also previously part of Dermot’s possessions- Dublin.

The Normans attack Dublin !

Guided by Dermot, and cleverly taking the hill passes through the Dublin and Wicklow Mountains, they evaded a much larger army marshaled by Dermot’s enemies Rory and Tiernan. By this route, to the surprise and dismay of the Hiberno-Norse city of Dublin, the mounted, mail-clad aliens arrived at the city walls, in September 1170.

Dublin’s archbishop of the time was Laurence O’Toole. Laurence was also brother-in-law to Dermot MacMurrough.   He came to the gates and attempted to facilitate a peaceful settlement between Norse and Norman- (neither people often noted for their gentle, placid nature).   But as negotiations dragged on some Norman knights lost patience. They broke into the city and started to attack.

Some Norse ran for the boats to escape by sea, planning to return and re-capture the city.  Others stayed and fought.  With the die now cast, the other Normans joined the attack.  The remaining defenders were forced into their stockade stronghold.  It became their last redoubt.    Overwhelmed now, the Dublin Vikings were as the Welsh Norman chronicler Gerald of Wales, or Geraldus Cambrensis coldly put it, the Norsemen were: “slaughtered in their citadel”.  (it is this mention of citadel, incidentally,  that makes me and others wonder about a fortress on the approximate site of Dublin castle, but anyway..)

Image of early medieval warfare by artist Cecil Duoghty.

The Normans had taken Dublin.

But perhaps more surprisingly, against all the odds, despite two counter-attacks in the next six months, one each by much larger Viking then Gaelic armies, the Normans would hold the city.

In that period King Henry calmly waited to see if Strongbow and his little band would survive the year.  It was frankly,  a matter of complete and utter indifference to him.   But when they did survive however, the king decided he better come over to Dublin to show who was in charge. He arrived the following winter of 1170-71.

Stage II of the Norman Conquest.

Strongbow was Henry’s vassal, so the earl quickly rushed off to meet Henry to make his submission and loyalty clear.  It was especially important for Strongbow to do this, because Henry did not like him and Strongbow knew it.  The king was certainly not going to allow a group of his minor barons to carve out an independent kingdom right on his doorstep.

There was another reason.  Aside from being one of the most powerful men in Europe in general terms, the king was carrying an very big stick.  Henry was leading at the head of the largest army ever seen in Ireland.  They were also wielding the best armour available at that time.  This was the medieval equivalent of having a nuclear bomb pointed at you.

Most Gaelic kings and chiefs took one look at Henry’s army and quickly reached the same conclusion as Strongbow. They took one look at Henry’s vast, and vastly superior army- the medieval equivalent of an atomic bomb- and decided to submit.

But Henry was clever, and had come prepared for this too.  He had a second army, one of lawyers and clerics.  He also carried tons of vellum paper and sealing wax, precisely for documents like treaties and sworn oaths of loyalty.

One by one the Gaelic Lords submitted.  Even the high king Rory O’Connor came around to this way of thinking.  In 1175 he went over to England to make peace with Henry, in the Treaty of Windsor.  In feudal terms, this treaty meant Rory recognized Henry as overlord, and owed him “fealty”  (allegiance) and tribute (of cow hides).   In return Rory kept all his lands outside the Dublin-Meath “Pale”.  Additionally the Irish outside the Pale were allowed maintain their customs and freedoms intact.

In the end neither Henry nor Rory kept their side of the deal.  Rory did not pay the stipulated tribute, and Henry -distracted by war in France- would or could not stop Norman barons carving out additional small territories in Munster.

Nonetheless, something very important had happened.  As far as all future kings of England were concerned, Ireland was now a crown possession.   In mainland Europe, to the feudal mind, sworn oaths of loyalty were sacred.  Local Gaelic kings lived in a distinct culture and they did not suffer from this European medieval mindset.  They took a far more liberal view of the new arrangement.   To them the agreement was convenient, but largely symbolic.  In any case, outside the Dublin area it made little practical difference.  Soon the Gaels acted as they always had.

As always Dublin was different to the rest of Ireland, as it had been under the Norse, and as it would remain for hundreds of years.

Nonetheless medieval kings of England legally at least, now had, some new territory.  They called their new possession the ‘Lordship of Ireland”.  Henry made his second son, John the Lord of Ireland, when John was only 12 years old.

This was the same Prince John of Robin Hood fame.  In contrast to his legendary older sibling, the crusader Richard Lion-Heart, history has not been kind to John.

Early Anglo-Norman Dublin.

John was of course much too young for this Irish mission.  In political or diplomatic terms his trip was a complete fiasco.  He was most interested in hunting dogs and in teasing Gaelic chieftains, by pulling at their long beards.  However John did make some contributions.  He brought over with him some settler lords whose descendants would be central to the history of Ireland, notably the Butler and Fitzgerald families.

The young prince also made some important commands.   In particular he ordered the building of several major castles, including at Limerick, and of course, of Dublin castle.  Dublin Castle would be the centre of British power in Ireland for the next eight hundred years, right up to the 1921 foundation of the Free State.  The Normans, who were superb engineers and architects,  also began to replace the Viking wooden buildings and wooden stockade defenses with stone buildings, stone churches and high stone ramparts. Dublin became a walled city.

Prince John a medieval depiction here later in life as King John of England.  Visited Ireland, and Dublin twice, unusually for an english crown prince or monarch of that time (although he was not heir to the throne on his first visit, he was Viceroy and Lord of Ireland

Following the Anglo-Norman conquest, for over three hundred years, English control in Ireland was ruled from Dublin castle.  Yet that rule was in reality restricted to that small area around Dublin, Kildare and Meath called the Pale.  Dublin was now an island, a small, isolated and colony, constantly under threat.   This threat was graphically illustrated when a several hundred townsmen went out to play a game (of what appears to hurling )in 1200.  That day they were ambushed and slaughtered by Gaelic soldiers, under the command of the Wicklow O’Toole family

There were other tiny pockets of Anglo-Norman landholding in Ireland, mostly in Munster, ruled by Anglo-Norman barons who claimed allegiance to the crown.  But these families gradually assimilated to Irish ways.  They were in any case isolated and thus almost entirely independent.   In the remainder of the Ireland, the vast majority of the country, traditional Gaelic rule, law, customs and language continued unchanged.  Nevertheless, the point remains, the kings of England were not going to forget whose country they believed this was.  So, by treaty and oaths of loyalty, the Angevin/Plantagent monarchs of England were at least Irelands rulers de jure, of the entire island, while in reality, on the ground outside the Pale and the small Norman pockets of landholding elsewhere, Gaelic kings remained  as de facto rulers of the land.  This incidentally is what I meant about that earlier map of Henry’s realms being either too modest, or far too optimistic.

But, before this little digression we were speaking of churches and cathedrals.  So now we must go back a few short years.   As you will remember,  just a few years before the Norman Conquest,  the archbishop of Dublin Laurence O’Toole changed Christ Church Cathedral to a Priory order.  You will also recall the Cathedral was then made of wood.

After the conquest, the victorious Strongbow ordered Christ Church to be rebuilt in stone, in an act of thanksgiving, for his miraculous triumph over the Vikings.

Laurence O’Toole stayed in place as Archbishop all this time, riding the waves of this momentous change  (and- no doubt- very pleased about his nice new stone cathedral)    Laurence eventually retired.  Only at that stage did the first Anglo-Norman arrive, to take up the vacant seat of Archbishop.   The senior cleric chosen by King Henry II to perform this powerful but sensitive job was a personal friend of his, the clergyman, judge and diplomat John Comyn.

(Here ends the political background, and world longest-ever digression !)  Back to…

The story of The Two cathedrals, part 2. … 

You will recall that the last Gaelic bishop of Dublin, Lawrence O’Toole,  had made Christ Church a Priory oreder in 1163, only eight years before the Normans arrived!    It badly cramped the new Anglo-Norman archbishops style.   He could not even live there !    Now, even “ordinary” bishops are generally based in Cathedrals of course.  So an Archbishop certainly expects a cathedral.  However, John Comyn now found that the situation at Christ Church did not suit him.  Not one bit.   Oh no.

Firstly, the City Provosts, the municipal government, had a say in Christ Church.  Archbishop Comyn could hardly tell them to butt out. Neither he nor Henry wanted to antagonize the townspeople of Dublin,  a city they hoped to build into a successful, mercantile centre, of busy guilds and loyal, prosperous citizens.

But even worse was the situation with the Priory cannons, put in place by Comyn’s predecessor Laurence.  Comyn could not remove these cannons any more than he could kick out the Provosts.  Because at this time Comyn’s boss Henry was particularly keen to avoid angering the church, after he had first squabbled with then alienated his old and former friend,  and the Archbishop of Canterbury,  Thomas á Beckett.  They had clashed violently over state or crown rights and prerogatives,  versus the rights and prerogatives of the church.  It had not ended well.

Henry disputing with Thomas á Beckett.  This dispute did not end well. 

The two men were forceful and powerful characters, and neither was prepaered to yeild.   The whole row went very badly wrong when Henry cursed Beckett in the company of some of his knights and they took his words as a demnd to to slay the clergy man.

Not only was the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas á Beckett murdered and hacked to pieces, . but significantly this crime was done when the sanctity of a cathedral, Canterbury cathedral, was violated.  Much of Europe blamed King Henry for this shocking, outrageous crime.    The Pope in Rome was keeping a very close eye on him.    Henry came, was, very close to being excommunicated, a disaster for any medieval monarch.     The king was now on his very best behavior.   He was furiously building and endowing monasteries everywhere in atonement.  These included one great monastery in the west of central Dublin, now sadly disappeared. This was Saint Thomas’ – which of course gives us the name Thomas Street.

In short, think about this now from a Dublin perspective.  Clearly the king could not sanction booting out the cannons of Christ Church cathedral.  In fact Henry endowed the Priory there, the Priory of the Holy Trinity,  with more power and more land, making the Priors, like the monks of Saint Mary’s and in his own Saint Thomas’- wealthy and powerful landowners.

John Comyn’s Dilema.  

So the cannons and friars of Christ Church were not going anywhere.  Comyn quickly realized he could not base himself in the cathedral if he wanted to act with real independence.  Yet, and yet, he needed a free hand to implement his reforms.    You can see that there are wheels within wheels here, political and religious factors locally and internationally all played a part.  Internationally,  with Rome now in a dominent position,  reform of the once great, highly distinctive and highly independent Celtic, Irish church was considered crucial by lots of important people- by the crown and by the church in England,  and indeed the church and Pope in Rome.

In fact, it is more than that.  Many historians contend that Henry’s permission for the conquest of Ireland, (in that document called Laudabilter from Pope Adrian IV) was made specifically in order to enact reform.   In other words, reform was the cog of Henry’s quid pro quo with Rome.  Quite possibly, it was now also the only thing between him and excommunication.  Reform in short, was considered both urgent and vital.

Pope Adrian (or Hadrian) IV, the Pope back in 1155,  when Henry was given his blessing to invade Ireland, but over 15 years before Dermot’s petition andStrongbow’s ambition, presented Henry with the opportunity for easy and (for him) bloodless conquest, and a whole new Kingdom to add to his collection.   

Now however, all these competing and contradictory factors made a uniquely delicate situation for John Comyn.   A series of contradictory demands made a very serious dilemma for him.  He could not rule the cathedral-Priory,  yet he needed real control.  How could he make the necessary reforms?  Where could he base himself and compete as a political player, and opperate from a position of real strength?

John Comyn’s Solution.  

But the archbishop was a clever man.  With a diplomat’s eye for the lateral move, he found the answer.   In 1191 Comyn simply established a new seat.

His location was significant.  Aware of the rich resonance of the past, Comyn chose the site of Saint Patrick’s ancient little island church, by the River Poddle.                                                                          But the archbishop wasn’t going to perform mass in a tiny old ruin.    Oh no.   In keeping with his lofty status and authority, he built an impressive new church.  It was designed in the style of architecture invented by the Normans, the Romanesque.  For good measure , Comyn also constructed himself a splendid new Archbishop’s palace.  He named it Saint Sepulchre.

Sepulchre is one of the most sacred names in Christendom.  Because the original Sepulchre church, in Jerusalem, is on the very site of the crucifixion and burial of Jesus Christ himself.    Incidentally it is also the name of an Abbey in Cambrai, in Normandy. So again, Comyn’s choice of names was both powerfully symbolic and at the same time, very Norman.  We see other Norman names in Dublin foundations like Saint Audoen’s.  (Corrupted from the church’s original name Saint Ouen- the patron Saint of Normandy)

John Comyn’s Mighty Colligate Church.  

Finally, to really remind everyone who the archbishop was, Comyn raised his splendid new institution to the status of a Colligate Church.  This meant Saint Patrick’s had one body of clergy for worship and another dedicated to education and scholarship.  As this college developed it became one of the first universities in Ireland. *

(Saint Patrick’s has a unique relationship with education ever since. Archbishop Talbot founded a choral school there in 1431 that has operated almost continuously ever since, making it the oldest school extant in Ireland.   much later, in the 17th century, St Patrick’s would gain the wonderful Marsh’s Library- built by Archbishop Narcissis Marsh.  Once again, this is the earliest public library, not merely in Ireland but in Europe.)

The gated entrance to Marsh’s Library on Saint Patrick’s Close. 

Comyn’s Colligate Church becomes a…  

At a distance of over 800 years,  is not entirely 100% clear when Dublin’s new Anglo-Norman archbishops went the extra inch and made St Patrick’s into a full cathedral, but if it wasn’t Comyn himself, it was certainly his successor Henri de Londres,    (or simple “Henry of London”  if you’re not a French-speaking Norman.)      Like Comyn, Archbishop Henri was clearly vexed about the Christ Church issue.    At first he, Henri,  worked out his frustration with a lot of construction.          He even re-built Comyn’s church again, even bigger!   But certainly by 1213 if not before,  Henri lost or had lost patience.   Something radical, indeed unthinkable happened,  something Dubliners now take almost for granted.   Henri elevated St Patrick’s church to a full Cathedral.

Dublin now had a bizarre distinction.  It became the first and only city in Christendom with two cathedrals.   Yes,  Not Rome, not Jerusalem nor Constantinople.  Nope,  Dublin!    To give you an idea of just how odd this is,   even now, eight hundred years later, a second cathedral of the same faith remains unique.

As you’d expect this unprecedented situation caused much confusion.   There were long disputes between Christ Church and Saint Patrick’s, mostly over who had which precedents, rights and privileges.  Who would enthrone each new archbishop?   Where would he rest after death?  Who would make religious rulings over the capital?

Some of these disputes, if not the rivalry, were resolved in 1300 by a Papal decree called the Pacis Composito.   But you can be sure there is an element of rivalry to this very day, even if everyone is too polite to talk about it !

and that’s the end of the story of the 2 Cathedrals. ..

The End.

Thank you for reading

(and very well done if you got this far ! )

In a sense Saint Patrick’s cathedral is Ireland, encapsulated, its best and its worst.       Go and see it when you can, and marvel at its many wonders.

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Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, my favourite place in the world.

As an architecture and history obsessive, I often discuss with my students their favorite Dublin visits and “sights”.   The great medieval Cathedral of Saint Patrick’s came up in class conversation the other day.         I was a little mystified, not to say horrified,  when one of my students shrugged her shoulders, and said it was “so-so” !    I blinked a few times and drew breath.  Then calmly,  invited her comments and reservations.

As she spoke,  I found I had to conceal my feelings.    I realized, thinking about it afterwards especially,  that I was secretly furious.  Yes, livid.   The way you are when somebody criticizes a good friend or member of your family.  Yes; your family and old friends may drive you mad.  But you’ll be dammed if you’re going to tolerate some upstart, blow-in make their caual asides and ill-informed, half-witted observations.    As I smiled calmly and professionally, (and I had better point out I genuinely like and respect this student)  rage and indignation swirled around inside.  But Saint Patrick’s is not a person.   It is a building.

What is wrong with me?   Have things really gone this far?   Is it possible I’m in love with this saggy, damp old place ?

Well, yes, okay, I am.   and let me show you why….

I find the cathedral warm. It breathes goodness and tolerance;  yet it is also imposing and mysterious and magnificent.   Nor is there anywhere better in which to to learn about Dublin and Irish history.  This is designated our National Cathedral, founded on a site where St Patrick himself –  the most famous of our patron saints-  had a tiny Celtic era church, well over a thousand years ago,  all the way back around  640 AD.    The Anglo-Normans got hold of the site in the 12th & 13th century  and rebuilt it,  on a very different, and massive scale.   Even now, this is the largest church in Ireland.

I submit it is also the best.    (And there are some ancient, historically rich and wonderful churches in Ireland, so that is in the face of some serious competition)

Saint Patrick’s is so full of history, of the memories of great and not-so-great people, and of giants like Jonathan Swift.   It is full of artworks, of skill, energy,  craft and  beauty.

It’s full of treasures and stories and mysteries.  And then more stories.

I used to write a magazine or newspaper column called Hidden Dublin.    For the last 3-4 years I’ve been updating and extending the material for a book of the same name.    So many of these stories and details come from this place.  It is full of them, a treasure-book of narrative, saturated in moral, artistic history.  Civil and military and religious politics.  Wars and death and heroism and irony, both funny and sad.    Indeed, Saint Patrick’s is so venerable it has even contributed words and phrases to the English language.  - “to chance your arm“;  - “to wallop the opposition” – and via the great Swift himself: “Lilliput” and  ”Lilliputian“;  and  - “a bunch of yahoos

Over the next few days and weeks, I’d like to show you some of my favourite things i the Cathedral, and to tell you some of the stories behind them.

I hope you’ll join me then.